Bam
Mood:  cool
You know, when the ancient Iranian city of Bam was levelled by that earthquake last week, it was a great catastrophe, both human and archaeological. The President had the same basic reaction, although he also (properly) saw it as an entree to some dialogue and to a tactical adjustment in our thawing relationship with the Iranian theocracy. Yes, we'll help ---and how about remembering that when the time comes for you to remember everything?

But what are the Iranians doing? Bitching about how slowly the international community is in coming to their aid. Oh, and absolutely refusing help from the evil Jews and the Zionist state. What a bunch of stupid fucks. The level of paranoia and conspiracism in the mind of the average towelhead makes the worst access-channelling freak-job I'll ever meet here look like a paid announcer for the Milk (and Cookies) Marketing Board.

Teheran's not on a major faultline, is it?

Unacceptable
Mood:  irritated
Now Playing: "Use Me Up" by Bill Withers
Okay. It's three or so in the morning in early January and I am actually sweating (well, my forehead's moist). The humidity and heat are absolutely the same as it would be in May. I refuse to turn on that goddamned AC because that would confirm my acquiescence in this fucking hothouse situation! Gggrrrrr....

Have I Mentioned Lately That Wesley Clark Is a Moron?
Mood:  incredulous
The only thing worse than Clark himself is his average supporter, who probably couldn't rub two facts about the man together. I, myself, have a stronger claim to being called a Democrat and I'm practically half a fascist for Christ's sake! What is his appeal? What Democrat could say anything about Clark as a Democrat? It's pathetic, stalking horse horseshit.

See Emily Play
Mood:  happy
My very favorite pure poet (Shakespeare being primarily a dramatist) is Emily Dickinson. She is the most distilled articulator of our language, in my opinion, and it was this succinctness and concentratedness that I always wished to emulate in my own time of poetic expression.

But Emily's "succinctness" was also manifested in the rarity of her personal extroversion, which is to say that she is known to have only been photographed once. Any follower of hers is familiar with her iconically famous daguerreotype image, which, in its singularity, only fed the enigma of her personality.

However, and I don't know why I didn't know about this before, there's an excellent article out by Philip Gura about his rediscovery of a second photograph of Emily Dickinson back in 2000. It's a fascinating story and has beautifully clear images for you to decide the question of authenticity for yourself.

In the words of Jack Torrance, "Go check it out!"

Futbol
Mood:  a-ok
I can't remember which heartless right-wing website I read this at, but there may be something to the idea that Khaddafi decided to cooperate with the Great Fascist Hegemon over WMDs now because he wishes to improve Libya's chances at hosting the World Cup next time out. Isn't that great? One of his sons is a player, I think, with an Italian club and, with soccer being so wildly beloved in the [imperial provinces and former capitals], Khaddafi may just be angling for mainstream respectability. I love it. As much as I ever thought major league baseball would help mend fences with our Cubano friends, this is a hundred times bigger. The World Cup in Africa is a huge idea. And in a country that was once a pariah and rogue? It would be an incredibly positive example to the whole Arab world.

Welcoming the Libyans to the world stage through the auspices of soccer ---and with Uncle Sam's imprimatur. What a hoot! Let's have it, baby.

But no fuckin' Brits in Tripoli, eh? Heh, heh.

Shell
Mood:  cheeky
One of my oldest and best friends and I stopped talking about a year and a half or so ago over some extreme political disagreements which, inevitably, became personal ones. Just as inevitably, because we share many mutual friends and acquaintances, we ran into each other last night at the home of a couple we know. I had promised the lady of the house beforehand that I would be civil and I was. However, I had no sense of just how graceless my old friend could be in the face of my presence. Not in any overt way, but it was plain to anyone who knew us before the war and before the Great Satan ascended his throne that he (my former friend) was studiously avoiding me. Not even his much better half was so tactless.

One of this former friend's final declarations to me was, essentially, that he had no intentions of speaking to me again so long as Bush remains President. This condition of our moratorium raises an interesting point. That is, this man is just the type who would take pleasure in Bush's death. He would probably break his silence to me just to celebrate this particular president's demise. This is the degree to which the pathological hatred of George W. Bush extends, and I am sure that anyone reading these words knows (or is) just such a hater.

Of course, one of the reasons it was so easy for me to abandon that old friendship was that my friend was reduced to using me as a crash test dummy for his own shrill and impotent ravings. It was irrelevant to his purposes what I actually believed or said; the important thing was that he had, in that special presumption of intellectual discourse, a convenient foil. Yet, these are not times for [nuance], so I rejected my assigned role and here I am.

Two thousand and four is going to be a long and frustrating year for the anti-Bush crowd. Eleven months of watching that dumbass Texan get over on the Dumbocrats before sticking it in and twisting it? Hmmm. Sounds like a winner to me.

Just Chillin'
Mood:  happy
Nothing much to tell. Last week was all about my friend's wedding in Houston, which was a very great success. Also, my mother's in town, which can be fun so long as she remembers that I can, in fact, walk and chew gum simultaneously. Oh, and I now have a cell phone, with which I am excessively impressed. Lots of good food, some great Xmas loot (including a big container of my older brother's excellent dog shit cookies), and not much to bother about job-wise (it's on auto-pilot, baby).

Now all I can hope for is a Philadelphia loss tonight and a Dallas win manana. Let's see.

Merry Christmas
Mood:  happy
Now Playing: "Good King Winceslas"
Good morning. Merry Christmas. No matter how far from my native faith I evolve, I will always love this time of the year and what it means to my loved ones. Be glad you are alive. Rejoice in your blessings. And stay in touch.

The Verdict Is In
Mood:  cheeky
These people defending Michael Jackson make me sick. Don't they get it yet? As Norm MacDonald once said when it was reported that Jackson was having portraits of a young Shirley Temple delivered to his hospital suite during one of his bleachings: "Don't be confused, folks. Michael Jackson is a homosexual pedophile."

Frozen Yogurt Machine-in-Chief
Now Playing: "Beautiful World" by Devo
Did y'all see Diane Sawyer's interview with the Bushes last night? The First Lady, as ever, was charming. Her husband, as ever, was not charming. Which is one of the reasons people dislike or hate him: he doesn't blow smoke up their asses or play misty for them, like the liar who preceded him. But is Bush's artlessness justification for such a violent rejection of him by the liberal elites? I would imagine that what you witness today in their reaction to him is very similar to what Lyndon Johnson went through after JFK died. Whatever his real merits were, Kennedy could charm the pants off of a heterosexual drill sergeant; Johnson, on the other hand, was a boor. Inasmuch as Johnson had a public sense of humor, it was usually based on crude or broad standards.

I don't necessarily want a leader who stands there and charms the press or the world, but Diane Sawyer sure does. She wants him to be a frozen yogurt machine that she can play on for some smooth and creamy quippery. But that's not what Bush is there for. He's got some big and very serious issues to deal with and I'm not about to castigate him for not being the great wit that Clinton was supposed to be.

Funny don't pay the bills, jerky.

A Perfect Observation
Mood:  suave
Several weeks ago, there was an attractive spokeswoman from an animal shelter in Williamson County on one of the local morning news programs answering viewers' e-mail, as asked by the anchor. One woman had written in to complain about how awful it was that she (the spokeswoman) had advocated getting all of these animals fixed when they, too, have a right to live and breed freely, just as Nature intended.

The spokeswoman, while playfully wrestling with a dog in her lap, patiently explained that dogs and cats are NOT "natural" animals. They are the creation of human beings and the choices of human beings in the procreative cycle of these domestic pets is central to their existence (e.g., variety breeding, etc.).

It's a truly excellent point. You don't find sharpeis or fluffy white Persians walking around in the deep woods, hunting. So, there, beeatch.

Merde in France
If you haven't checked out the greatest blog ever (Merde in France) be sure to use the link under my favorites on your left.

Merde in France is everything a blog should be. It is consistently and brilliantly angry. And it has one enemy, always in its sights.

Exterminate the Loyalists
Mood:  on fire
Now Playing: Some Wagner (real loud to scare the gooks)
The news of these dead-enders committing violence against a free Iraq is pissing me off. I guess you can call them loyalists, but what are they being loyal to? A dictatorial regime where incredible brutality was used to keep people in line. And this is something these brain-damaged sacks of shit want to perpetuate?

I see the footage of these ugly, unwashed young men, hopping around, yelling slogans and being the vermin they are. Do they think of the Ba'athists like young negroes think of Crips and Bloods? Is that what this is? Gangism?

These turds need to snap to: Uncle Sam ain't going anywhere. We're there to mop you fuckers up and wring you out into the sewer. Don't doubt it. You think we're going to expend the lives and treasure we already have just to watch it frittered away because you're too brain-damaged to recognize what your society is becoming? Y'all are some dumb bastards. Uncle Sam has a long history of committing genocidally-proprotioned mop-up jobs for the good of the world and progress, generally. Don't wait around to find out the hard way. Drop your guns and get down on your knees.

Facing West.

Bar Clark
How can Dumbocrats (like Madonna!) support the candidacy of Wesley Clark? The guy's a phoney! He has almost no natural ties to the party and, yet, when he announced his candidacy, he instantly became the runner-up in any poll of Democratic contenders. What sort of fickle, shit-for-brains nonsense is that? Is it because he's a military man and that that will somehow show up or undercut George W. Bush? I mean, their reasoning (if you can call it that) is utterly retarded.

Every time I hear Clark pronounce upon some important question, the noise coming out of his skull are the gears of his hypocrisy and self-contradiction grinding him to a halt. He cannot speak without undermining himself, but who knows what these dumbasses are hearing? It's pathetic.

Lead Pipes
The Dow-Jones is over 10K (good for pension portfolios, see). Old folks got some help paying for their drug habits. And now we got Saddam in Qatar or some such place with a light bulb in his face and a pack of barking dogs on his ass about thangs and stuff. How is Bush supposed to lose his job? He's a shoo-in, but we're still going to have to watch a lot of TV ads and other awkward stumpings. The Dumbocrats know they're going to lose, which is why they want a guy with some "principle" to vote for so that they can live with themselves.

But where is the disgust for Gore with how he snubbed Lieberman? Just think about that, lefties! You all want to "avenge" 2000, but you have no problem with your Great Cheated Heroes falling out with each other? Gore thought that Lieberman was Presidential three years ago and now prefers Dean? Why? Is he running for Dean's Secretary of State? Is he trying to throw a monkey wrench in the Clinton machine?

Jonah Goldberg said the other day that Gore's endorsement of Dean and the positions that Gore is now espousing are damned near dishonorable. I agree absolutely. Gore is a fucking chump trying to find some resonance with the crackpottiest left-wing losers you can find in the Democratic Party. He's completely buttfucking his own legacy --and for what? So that MoveOn.org will keep inviting him to their klaverns? What a joke.

Premonitory, Admonitory
Mood:  celebratory
The entry prior to this one is about as close to a premonition as I've come in a while, for just a few hours later, I would learn that Saddam was captured. Which is to say, at the very most, something must have been in the air.

Everyone is happy that Saddam is in our custody, but the ramifications of the story about him and Abu Nidal and Atta and, ultimately, bin Laden, are apparently not yet fully appreciated. If that link is substantiated, then every anti-war asshole who ever rebuked this Administration is going to have to apologize for their ignorance and blindness. You bet, pardner: it's that serious.

Speaking of human garbage, there's lots of reports from the Sunni cities where everybody's still queer for Saddam that he is believed to still be free. That's right. There's hundreds of thousands of asshole Iraqis who are so brainwashed and ignorant that they can't accept the reality of their situation. And, so, they continue with their suicide bombings and their roadside minings and their RPG launchings. What are they fighting for? Saddam isn't going to be paying them to kill us anymore. The Ba'athists are beat and incapable of mounting anything more than a terrorist insurgency. And that's the thing: these worthless, brain-damaged fuckwads know that they are unwelcome in civil Iraqi society. These are the vermin Saddam released en masse just before the liberation. They know they're going down; they just don't want to go out like suckers.

Let's have more of these cordons and raids. Let's bulldoze the houses of assholes like we were the fucking IDF, baby! We got thousands of humpers and John Waynes, homeboy. We'll let the gooks play the indians and exterminate some bugs. Just look in the eyes of those rodents dancing around Fallujah with portraits of Saddam over their heads: you think brain-damaged sacks of shit like them are good candidates for "re-education"? Get serious. Go cold-blooded.

Saddam and Atta?
Do you recall that, just before Uncle Sam unloaded on Saddam Hussein, one of the biggest sacks of shit ever to emerge from the Palestinian terrorist movement, Abu Nidal, was murdered in his home in Baghdad? Did you ever consider why the one event preceded the other so closely? Could it be that Saddam permitted Mohammad Atta, the so-called leader of the hi-jackers of 11 September, access to Nidal?

That's what the UK's Telegraph is reporting tonight. The governing council in Iraq has found some documentation of just such an arrangement. If it holds up, that will supply the proof that Saddam had links to al-Qaeda in the weeks and months before the attacks.

Oh, Yeaaahhhhh
Mood:  a-ok
That lady in the Overstock.com ads on the TV is making me want to go and lock horns and beat up interlopers and pound on my chest and hoot and holler. Man, is she fines!

Then Let Me Put It This Way
Mood:  don't ask
"Of whom much is given, much is expected."

Certain human beings achieve such a high degree of celebrity and fame and fortune that they each become a law unto themselves. But, in return for that status (and I am a firm believer in this), they make themselves into sacrificial lambs. That's the deal. In exchange for being worshipped, cock-sucked, slack-cut, and pawed over, they ought to be made to stand tall before the man and be burned alive, if necessary. That is to say, there is something of a natural law at work, for a price must be paid for being venerated and enriched beyond one's moral capacity by millions of strangers.

Certain human beings. A small number in any generation or culture. Elevated above the rest and observant of no rule but their own. Stand there and command what you may. Exploit it and live it out, baby. Make every dream a reality because you can.

But offend me and stink in my nostrils and I will want nothing but death from you. I will smash you like a graven image. I won't even piss on your rotten corpse for all I think of you. If you even try to make excuses or cry uncle or open your wallet, I swear I will think of ever more cruel and outrageous means to the end of your life. I will applaud your demise like a bad-ass drum solo well delivered.

All moral lepers be damned. No more freaks and fuck-ups. Don't bitch when the candle that burned twice as bright burned half as long. That's the deal. A small number of human beings in any given generation. Take it like a man or whatever the fuck you are: thou owest Nature a death.

Thanks for the Correction, Deepblade
I've been making that mistake forever. Big-time collegiate football is Division I-A, not just "Division I." Smaller, less well-funded programs belong to Division I-AA. I'll have to educate myself as to the criteria that distinguish between the two, but the most important thing is this: if smaller divisions can get it together and have a play-off system, why can't the pre-professional and pre-eminent division of them all have it? Are these asshole university presidents and athletic directors concerned about the graduation rates or the negative impact on exam scores for these young men? No one believes that. No one believes that it would present any kind of financial or logistical or scheduling burden at all. No one believes that a fair and fortunate system of rotating bowls can't be worked out.

To hell with it. Before long, I will be kicking back in a recliner, watching the first round of the Division I-A college football play-offs. These unimaginative losers who run today's major universities are dinosaurs standing in the way of progress.