Sic Semper Rags and Demagogues

I've always had my bete noire columnist in whatever the local rag might have been at that point in my life. When we were in Loganport, Indiana under the sufferance of the Pharos-Tribune it was one Charlie Reese. Don't hear of him anymore: don't think he was distinguished, just annoying as hell.

Michael Reagan is it now. He is a Third Base Republican (born on third, thought he hit a triple) who happens to have the Great Distinction of being the Son of Ronald Reagan. He writes inflammatory columns, which the Madison Birdcage Liner sees fit to publish.

Michael's latest tirade accuses the New York Times of treason -- treason, mind you -- for its story disclosing that the Bush administration has been operating another secret dragnet program, this one to sift bank data in hopes of finding transactions related to terrorism.

Well, whenever the supposed free press -- (and by the way, why is a free press important in a democracy? That, in my experience, has proven to be too hard a question for the majority of citizens of this nation, which fact is scary in this supposed democracy) -- whenever the press decides to print information, the responsible members of it take certain criteria into consideration: Is it the truth, unvarnished and unbiased? Is it in the public interest? Is it dedicated to the principle that a democracy --a government of the people, by the people, and for the people -- is at its best when the press is free of coercion from its government, or from big corporations, or organized crime. Is it not merely propaganda?

The New York Times has taken the position that its publication of the story on the government's surveillance of bank data (as well as illegal NSA eavesdropping recently, for which it won a Pulitzer prize) was in the public interest. We need to know what our government is doing to us. We cannot take their word for it. Certainly not this Potemkin village, this government-paid stooges-posing-as-reporters, this post-1984, this fascist government.

As for this disclosure's endangering us because it gives something away to the terrorists, that is so much arrant horse shit. The Wall Street Journal, so much in the pocket of the Bushies, has published the same thing. The Fox (FNN, Fascist News Network) boys have been ranting about the story ever since it happened. Why not accuse them of treason too for making such a big fuss? They're reminding the terrorists that we're on to them. (The terrorists are of course as stupid as the motorsickle gang in "Any Which Way but Loose," right?) No WTC/Pentagon tragedies will occur because the Times did their bounden duty to inform the American public of what clandestine things their government is doing to them.

Whenever the Bush-Cheney-Rove axis gets het up about an issue, think of playing to their base and thinking of their next election. Cherchez les Novembre 2006. Why is it always fundraisers with the country-club fat cats and undemocratically goon-screened "town meetings" for Our Beloved President at which entities such as the Communistic New York Times and other Enemies of America are denounced? Go figure.

As for Michael Reagan, if he can accuse the NYT of "treason," then I accuse him of "libel." He is an Enemy of America. And full of it too, come to think of it.

Vegetable Soup!

Big pot of it cooking on the stove right now, compliments of Chef Rozz. Extremely simple to prepare, heart-smart, delicious, and it gets better every time you reheat it. Stuff defies the laws of chemistry and physics. Rosie puts a little stew beef in ours. Her mother wouldn't let her in the kitchen when she was a kid and therefore she taught herself to cook while raising three little kids and working as an ER- and general hospital-nurse while still a kid (at least chronologically) herself. And did a deuced good job! She is awesome, I find out more and more every day. We had a boffo time last night. From Netflix, we watched "Bad Boys" starring Will Smith as a Miami vice cop and Martin Lawrence as his sidekick. (Actually, it must have been the other way around since Lawrence had first billing, as he should have because he was quite good.) The movie struck our funny bones and we were laughing out loud. We were in a screwball mood and the two of us rode to the library and post office at midnight to get movies where they were to go. I dared Rosie to go with me in her nightie and she not only did so but got out of the car to drop the Netflix movies in at the post office!

Awesome Offspring

Amanda, Amber, Natalie, and Jerry showed up last evening for a birthday gathering. We had carry-in Chinese, birthday cake, and ice cream. They spent the night sleeping in tents in Clifty Falls State Park. I brooded (I do Mother Hen well) while J & N were en route and incommunicado -- all day yesterday. Mandy relayed the message late in the day that they were in Brown County and they said they had 120 miles to go. Knowing that the most direct route was many fewer miles than that, I figured they were so tired that they were disoriented. Turns out they went from 46 down Indiana 135 to Salem and came from there. The estimated mileage, then, was about right. Reason for the "detour"? They still hadn't had enough sightseeing. I went to visit them at the park this morning and they had a shower, packed their gear, and took off on those bikes, heading straight for Chicago. Natalie called before six to let me know they'd gotten home so I wouldn't worry. As I noted a long time ago, i have remained a prayin' man because of my kids. Which always reminded me of when Amanda worked overnight at the gas-and-convenience mart. Blessings on my awesome offspring, wherever they are.

JT Redux

Sixty-seven today. Life is good.

Last night we watched Secondhand Lions, about two old eccentrics (Michael Caine and Robert Duvall) who live on a secluded farm in Texas. This bimbo, their niece, drops her son, about twelve or thirteen, on them. They like to sit on their front porch and shoot their shotguns at traveling salesmen. They have five dogs, a pig, and, after time, a lioness, who the kid talks them into buying, and who he names "Jasmine." (A giraffe makes a cameo appearance.) Michael Caine as a droll, wise old Texan (he's a Brit, you know) is delightful. So is the menagerie. This movie is a keeper. It may soon rank up there with The Milagro Beanfield War among my favorites.

Just finished The Stone Monkey, by Jeffery Deaver. I loved it and there are more. The Stone Monkey has this Chinese hit man who makes Hannibal Lecter look like Mister Rogers. "Lincoln Rhyme," a quadruplegic "criminalist," directs operations from his wheelchair, and "Amelia Sachs," plainclothes cop, and of course a knockout (in this case red-haired), does his legwork. In this novel there is a Chinese cop named "Sonny Li," who has Jackie Chan written all over him. I hope this one makes it to the screen.

Doc Natalie and Jerry are scheduled to trek here from Shy on their BMW motorsickles tomorrow. They're going to camp in Clifty with Amanda and Amber. Can't wait to see them. Natalie finished her internship, yesterday being her last day.

My friend Jerry Y. offered to help with a podcast of film music so that is not dead. Shuck and jive shall not win out!

I continue to exercise, eat right, and lose weight. I have rehab in an hour. It's fun and I'm making great progress.

Sixty-seven today. Life is good.

My Year in Radio: Relax, Garrison K., The Threat Is Over

Just about one year ago, I was listening to the classical music station which I have set on both car radios and the living room radio. The DJ of then played the music of "Star Trek," the Alexander Courage theme from the TV show. (Shatner was always a butterball but he could still barely get away with wearing a close-fitting shirt and not looking utterly ridiculous. But I digress. Kirk out.)

I sent her an email saying I liked film music and that I would like to hear more. She replied, saying that the program director had expressed interest in programming more film music and that I ought to get in touch with him -- strike while the iron is hot.

I did and he invited me to the studio and we started talking about my being the DJ for a weekly one-hour show of music of the movies. He asked me to put some programs together and encouraged me in every way. He told people there that I was going to be doing a show and they were greeting me when I would visit the studio.

I did make up six or so shows, selecting themes and songs from many movies, burning them to CDs, and writing scripts for my commentary between numbers. I love movies and classical music and film music, so it looked like this was the career niche for me (at last). The plan was for him and me to record the programs in the studio and, by golly, I thought, air those suckers.

Well, it never happened. After much noodging on my part, we finally got part of one program in the computer. He told me he'd decided (this was all of a sudden) that he'd better run the show by a higher-up to make sure it was approved and that we would stop recording for now until he had done that.

Well, I tried to remind him occasionally that he'd said he'd meet with the VP, and a round of shuck and jive, of excuses and apologies ensued. In March of this year, after one last email, I gave up.

Day before yesterday I had an email from His Shiftiness. More shuck and jive and excuses and apologies about how he'd tried to convince the higher powers of the value of a film music show -- he didn't actually say he was trying to salvage my show: I guess he considers he might go to hell for outright lying.

But the bottom line came at last, after much milk of magnesia and several enemas and digging out of the impaction: "I'm sorry we can't use your show..." Then the real agenda became apparent in an attachment: it was a sample of what he himself plans to do on the new digital station which will be airing sometime in the near future. He then had the chutzpah to ask me to help, "if you want to," by suggesting film music selections.

(Did he suspect I might not want to after realizing what a number he has done on me? "Chutzpah," by the way, we know from lovers of Yiddish, is that quality of the man who murders his parents and then begs for mercy from the court because he is an orphan.)

I replied to the gentleman, Thanks but no thanks. Actually, I did not dignify with a reply the offer of a sop, a consolation prize, of being a "consultant." I just asked the gentleman to finish the program we'd started recording last year and send me a CD of it as a keepsake of my "days in radio." I asked him not to reply in words, just send the disc, because "People may doubt what you say, but they will always believe what you do."

So Gary K. (and Alan B.), my threat of being a radio personality is past. Relax your sphincters. Amen.

guzzling through the apocalypse

I came up the hill a while ago and was almost run over by an SUV -- a big-assed American make -- driving like li'l ole 421 was the Autobahn. I wonder what kind of mileage that sucker (gas-sucker) gets. I wonder if the driver has any notion that "the end" is near -- the end of plentiful fossil fuels and the prerogative to squander them? Could it be that the next president and congress will crack down? Impose a national speed limit of 55 once again, by executive order, as Tricky Dick did in the seventies? Work for a windfall profit tax on Big Oil? Kick the ass of GM for manufacturing its gas guzzlers and not let them wiggle out of their responsibility to produce efficient (and, incidentally, clean) automobiles? Mandate moving ahead as quickly as possible with a concerted plan to develop wind and solar energy and other ways to stop the insane waste? God deliver us. Amen.

Try Again, Dear Hearts and Gentle People

There was a song when I was about a little kid that went: "I love those dear hearts and gentle people / Who live in my home town." Well, I know I have many dear hearts and gentle people who have tried to make comments on my blog and couldn't because of my stupidity with regard to managing my blog. SO -- I THINK YOU CAN ADD COMMENTS NOW. SO PLEASE TRY. AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT. Love to all, JT.

Plus ca change, ...

The day we got the news that Zarqawi was killed I became depressed. I knew we'd be in for another declaration of "Mission Accomplished." (Keith Olbermann tells us every evening at the end of Countdown how many days it has been since that first declaration. The relatively subdued tone with which His Cockiness announced Zarqawi's demise (in the Rose Garden, in his dark blue suit and dark red power tie, trying to look presidential -- and intelligent, I suppose) fooled those who wanted to be fooled, of course. Then there it was: the secret whisking away to the Green Zone of Iraq for photo-ops and sound bites. Public relations and savagely partisan politics. I'd say, "The more things change, the more they remain the same." But every time they get into a little trouble they bounce back up like the Bobo clown doll. And while they manage to look good enough to their "base," they trudge on down the road to hell taking all of us with them. Think about it: redistribution of wealth, degradation of the environment, amassing of the national debt, erosion of civil rights, moving ever closer to a police state. On and on. Oh God, would you please deliver us from this regime?

This I Believe

Last night we watched Good Night, and Good Luck, the George Clooney film which stars the awesome David Strathairn as Edward R. Murrow, the CBS newsman who helped bring down Senator Joe McCarthy in the 1950's. McCarthy, who is not played by an actor but instead shown exclusively in recordings throughout the movie, conducted a witch hunt of "Communists" and in the process gave immense aid and comfort to our enemies. That hideous man was debunked and we got past that period somehow and breathed easy for a while.

We have a government now that in its "war on terrorism" is giving aid and comfort to our enemies. The thing I find most oppressive right now is the demand of the government to know everything about us -- everything -- but to reveal nothing about itself -- nothing. The air is pretty stifling these days and I'm finding it very hard to breathe.