Category: News

So Senator John Kerry has launched the f-bomb:

“I voted for what I thought was best for the country. Did I expect Howard Dean to go off to the left and say, ‘I’m against everything’? Sure. Did I expect George Bush to f – – – it up as badly as he did? I don’t think anybody did,” Kerry told the youth-oriented magazine.

Oooh. He’s young, hip, and aggrieved, and has used this word undoubtedly only after his advisors told him it was okay. Some people might disagree with the leader of the free world using the f-word, but I got no problem with it; I’m from the North Side, wherein the f-word was a part of my vocabulary in the third grade and in frequent rotation therein (much to the disgust of Danny H, my sophisticated fourth grade friend).

No, what bothers me is that Kerry deploys it against a sitting president. I expect that’s how he would be as a president, too, a stretch just inside the limit of my vast and fertile imagination. He’d save his wrath for internal opponents, and people who disagreed with his policies. Not against external threats or the pompous politicos and despots who would like to lay low our very civilization.

So if a leader’s going to display controlled psychopathy with the f-word, I’d rather he use it in appropriate places. In the imperative tense, such as to the United Nations, to Little Kim, to Jack Chirac. Or as an alternate pronunciation for the unvoiced labiodental fricative in the names of Arafat or Kofi. These uses of the f-word I could support.

But for JFK the lesser, I would offer the word in its imperative reflexive, but he prompts me to a North Side Stream of Cussingness, which is a stream of common swear words, grouped and repeated, not in a particularly clever fashion, but with feeling.

Neil Steinberg, in his Friday column, examines how nations review their own histories and concludes that the United States owes no apology for dropping the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the end of World War II.

He begins:

There is a museum in Tokyo dedicated to Japan’s ample history of warfare. But if you visit the plainly named Military Museum, you will find no reference to the grotesque medical experiments the Japanese army conducted in World War II or the sex slaves it kidnapped. The Rape of Nanking, when rampaging Japanese troops raped and murdered hundreds of thousands of Chinese, is airbrushed into the “Nanking Incident” and the facts are said to be uncertain. Civilian deaths aren’t mentioned at all until the Americans begin firebombing Tokyo in 1944.

This is par for the course. In Japanese textbooks the relentless quest of military domination that so marked that nation’s conduct in the 20th century gently morphs into a brave struggle for independence against a hostile world.

Nor is the museum a relic of the equivocating past. It opened just last year. “The museum’s jingoism begins in the very first room,” wrote Howard French in the New York Times. “There, a saber adorned with gold braid, an ancient relic from the Imperial Palace guard, hangs, dramatically lit, above a block of text glorifying 2,600 years of independence, secured by valiant warriors against unnamed invaders.”

Click the link and consume the entire column.

Drudge links to a story that Cracks in Earth’s Defenses Let Space Storms In.

Time to start a pool: what industry will the environmentalists target for this one?

The obvious answer, all, is not allowed, since that represents kind of a metaopponent for environmentalists. No fair choosing civilization, either.

I was going to fisk Robert Cohen’s latest column, but it’s too time consuming to refute this bad Santa’s columns for no pay. However, I do want to snark about this bit:

The use of George W. Bush as a role model for a Democratic presidential aspirant is both novel and troubling. Bush, after all, is Mr. Secrecy. His White House — actually, it’s ours — is virtually hermetically sealed. We still do not know who Vice President Cheney consulted in drawing up the administration’s leave-no-energy-company-behind energy bill, and there is the little matter of our still not knowing why the administration went to war to rid Saddam Hussein of weapons he did not have. It is — shhh — a secret.

My snarkage:

• Leave-no-energy-company-behind energy bill? Come on, Dicky, this administration left their oil buddies at Enron behind, didn’t they? Oh, never mind. I cannot talk sense into you. I better just call you Dicky again to elevate this conversation to its proper depth.
• not knowing why the administration went to war to rid Saddam Hussein of weapons he did not have? Come on, that’s so cliché, and a lying cliché at that. Are you (a) really that simplistic in your analysis of foreign policy, or (b) dumbing it down because you think your readers are that simplistic about foreign policy? Which is worse?

  Actually, I’d like to point out that “administration” and “weapons” still have more than one syllable. Just in case you think the American public disagrees with you and yours because they just don’t understand! You can still make it dumberer for them.

I keep asking myself why I bother to try to read things with which I disagree since they make me so angry. Life’s too short. I should stick to pulp fiction.

In his latest six-columns-for-the-price-of-one, which would also seem to be six-columns-with-the-forethought-of-one, Richard Roeper of the Chicago Sun-Times spends a little time between the asterisks to ding Bush for not attending soldier funerals:

In the meantime, our current president Punk’d the world with his stealth visit to Baghdad last week — proving that even in this day and age, it’s possible for POTUS to make a safe, quick visit to almost any event in the world.

Sure would like to see President Bush try a similar mission and show up at a memorial service for one of those American soldiers who keep getting killed in Iraq, even though the war is over.

Hey, Rick. You pick one. The single soldier to be so honored. The one who’s more important than the others.

Pretty easy for a newspaper columnist, wot?

Virginia Postrel, commenting on David Brooks’ recent New York Times column (registration required), asks and then answers her own question:

The column, which deserves reading in full, leaves unanswered a rather important question: What’s the point of Republican political power? Nothing more than job security for a different clique?

Well, yes.

Oh, yeah, secure your gear. Office creepers aren’t something from a horror movie crossed with Dilbert. They’re thieves who prowl office buildings, often during work hours, who hoover up unsecured wallets, purses, and electronics. I have warned you time and again.

(Link seen on Techdirt.)

A non-story: Bush mispronounces Nevada in first presidential visit. But thanks for trying, guys.

Let’s face it, most Americans pronounce their place names incorrectly. I live in a suburb of St. Louis. Since the canonized Louis was French, we should pronounce it St. Louie. And who knows how one should authentically pronounce Missouri. Residents get into fist fights over it yet, but generations-long blood feuds over long I versus schwa are petering out.

Back to the point: Nevada, from el Español, should be pronounced nayVAHdah. Not:

To properly pronounce Nevada, the middle syllable should rhyme with gamble.

(Does anyone beat the reporter about the head and shoulders for the whole middle syllable should rhyme thing? Rhyme means all syllables sound similar but for initial consonants. Don’t you damn kid free versers start up with me.)

So Bush’s pronunciation was a little closer to the original than the current bastardization favored by both native Nevada residents. In two hundred years, after the next great vowel shift, Bush will read like Shakespeare reads to us, no matter how stoopid his critics try to make him sound. You know what the real twist of the box cutter is? People will read Bush’s speeches in 200 years. No one will read his opponents’ press releases.

Even James Earl Jones and all the All-Star sales pitching in the world won’t help when you come up with business decisions like this: Verizon will charge double expected fees over new rules.

Punish previous customers’ disloyalty by destroying goodwill among current customers. Buy that man an MBA!

Richard Roeper, accused of living in the Midwest by one of his coastal friends, invents the Middle Coast to refute that fatal accusation:

Not long ago, I was at dinner with a group of entertainment industry professionals, including a Los Angeles native and resident. Nice woman. After talking movies, we got into the “Where do you live?” and “Where did you grow up?” stuff — and when she learned I had spent practically my whole life in the Chicago area, she talked about how much she loves our great city. We have the Cubs (does anyone from out of town ever say the White Sox?), the architecture, the food, the lake, the blues, the shopping, the Oprah, etc., etc.

Not to mention the wonderful people of Chicago — the “down-to-earth” types with “good solid values,” as we’re often labeled.

And then this nice woman used the term that almost always makes me cringe. The label is favored by East and West Coast types who use it like a pat on the head to tell us how quaint we are, how charming we are — and what rubes we are.

“I just love that whole Midwestern thing,” she said.

I can’t precisely recall the specific wording of what she said next, but there were a few more “down-to-earth” references, and something about how we’re so much more “real” than Los Angelenos and New Yorkers, and how it’s so refreshing that we’re not embarrassed about our love for Wal-Mart and Celine Dion and Krispy Kreme.

Then, she mentioned that her husband attended school in the Midwest, and he has family in the Midwest, and she knows a lot of other people from the Midwest, including her college roommate who was from the Midwest — and at that point I had to cut her off and explain something.

Chicago ain’t the Midwest.

He pushes one of my buttons and then keeps pushing it to make the elevator come faster.

Dude, just move to LA so you can hang out with your movie sophisticates or move to New York so you can hang out with your Esquire cosmopolitans.

Is it Friday yet? When’s the next Neil Steinberg column due?

It’s not Vietnam….it’s Somalia!

The frenzy recalled the October 1993 scene in Somalia, when locals dragged the bodies of Marines killed in fighting with warlords through the streets.

Perhaps they just need to change the pitch of their klaxon to get it through to the tone deaf American citizens that Americans. Are. Dying. in a war zone.

We know. But we’re resolute.

I hope.

(Link seen on Drudge Report, a little-known news aggregator. Click through, he can use the exposure.)

Update: No, on second though, tell us it’s just like Somalia. Which was a debacle because the United States cut and ran too early. That should stiffen our upper lips.

At the Volokh Conspiracy, David Bernstein calls this mantra aummed from the mouth of a London attorney the “quote of the day”:

You will never change the hearts and minds of terrorists by bombing them.

I disagree. I prefer Bernsteins rejoinder:

That’s OK, I’ll settle for their death. I don’t think we changed the hearts and minds of too many Nazis during World War II, either.

Here are some things to which I have meant to bring to your attention, but haven’t:

• Man tries to buy $7,000,000 in lottery tickets.
  This guy tries to buy seven million lottery tickets, which would give him a one in two chance of winning the $38,000,000 jackpot. Lottery officials decline. Not because it’s against the rules, but because it’s against the “spirit” of the lottery. That’s right, they arbitrarily change the rules on the fly to suit their own agenda. Keep that in mind if you ever win; take the cash. Just because the lottery promises to pay out that money over twenty or thirty years, does not mean they will. The minute the state legislature needs it to give poor children LeBron sneakers, your winnings are seized. (Link seen on Fark.)

• There’s too much extraneous crap overlaid on television.
  Gail Pennington of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch agrees. Hey, Fox Sports Net, covering a quarter of the screen with an advertisement for Master and Commander while the Blues are breaking up ice does not endear me to you. I am not going to watch your “extreme” sports show or your fantasy football program. I want to watch the damn hockey game.

• Regulation by punchline.
  Radley Balko joins the party late in recognizing that reductio ad absurdum helps those who sue or legistlate brainstorm for fresh outrages. Recognizing a slippery slope doesn’t mean you’re not sliding down it.

• FBI can’t use your OnStar against you….yet.
  A court has ruled that the FBI cannot just take your vehicular remote assistance product off the hook and listen to what you’re saying in your car. Yet.

  Of course, you all know I would never buy a product where a radio signal can open your car doors or that the FBI could track your stolen vehicle. I don’t even have a cell phone where a signal could take it off hook, either. You think I am mad? Listen to how carefully I planned it out! (Link seen on Tech Dirt.)

• Rigorous debate in comments is good.
  I don’t have comments because I don’t like trolls. So check this link out. It’s a story about how Australian Prime Minister shared an elevator with some footy fans. But the trolls are all on John Howard for his politics, and the owner of the blog responds appropriately.

There, now the bloggable notes are out of my inbox. I can now start answering some six month old e-mail.

There it is.

Hey, Salam? Fuck you. I know you’re the famous giggly blogger who gave us all a riveting view of the inner circle before the war, and thus know more about the situation than I do. Granted. But there’s a picture on the front page of my local paper today: third Minnesotan killed in Iraq. He died doing what you never had the stones to do: pick up a rifle and face the Ba’athists. You owe him.

Man, do I understand the urge. Sometimes there’s nothing more you can say to some of the incoherence than to answer in strict terms that you assume your opponents can understand, and to let them know that there words are not only wrong, but also risable and subject to consequences.

Perhaps I am being too harsh, but I get a little riled when a Hollywooder loves the Midwest, like when director of The Day After Nicholas Meyer says:

“I have an enormous soft spot for the Midwest and the hospitality, the generosity and the openness of a lot of the people who live there,” says Meyer, a graduate of the University of Iowa.

Smeg off. There, you feel more at home, pinhead?

Maybe I am just a tad sensitive whenever a coastal type talks about Midwesterners. Typically, though, they like to ruffle their fingers through our hair and tell us we’re good kids.

I am surprised that that one Bears fan hasn’t written about this Fox news story:

The U.S. Army declared medic Spec. Simone Holcomb AWOL for refusing to return to her duties in Iraq because of a family emergency, threatening her with a dishonorable discharge or even a court martial.

Holcomb, whose husband is also in the military as a tank commander, had to rush home to care for their seven children. Her mother-in-law had been taking care of the family, but had to leave Colorado suddenly when her father-in-law fell ill with cancer.

But the Army wasn’t too sympathetic, slapping Holcomb with the AWOL label and later deactivating her and reassigning her to the Colorado National Guard (search). She is considering taking legal action to be reinstated as a full-time soldier.

Let’s see, she went absent without leave, and she’s upset for being disciplined for going AWOL? And now she’s going to sue to get back into the army? Goodness gracious, that’s improper.

I understand she had extenuating circumstances, but she broke the rules.

And if she does try some nutbar legal maneuver, heaven forfend if some civilian court gets its dominion over the military. Forget liquor and guns. I will have to change my investment strategy to burkas and guns to prepare for the eventual destruction of our way of life.