You thought I was talking about the Bush administration, didn't you? Yuk yuk yuk, I was referring to the campaign for the next president. Think about it. No, wait a minute. Maybe it would be better not to think about it.
Things have heated up: (1) David Geffen, a Hollywood mogul (in case you wondered who in hell he was) just disowned the Clintons by raising a million-plus bucks* for Barack Obama. (2) Mr. Geffen, formerly a fast Friend of Billary, took the occasion to denounce Hillary as "polarizing" and not to be trusted. (3) Hillary's spokesman said that Barack should apologize for Geffen's remarks. (4) Not unreasonably, Barack wondered why he should be asked to apologize for somebody else's remarks.
Only two years to go. Anyone for Dennis Kucinich?
*A million bucks would buy health insurance for a lot of poor people, many of whom I actually know.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Fog It All
Tonight Rosie started down the street in the red rocket and ended up in a neighbor's yard on the left side where the road curves, her left front wheel mired in mud so bad that we had to call a wrecker to pull it out.
I could not fault her for the error: this is absolutely the thickest fog I've ever seen in Indiana to my recall. I once was stuck for a couple of hours in a coastal fog in California that was about as bad but I think this present one topped the past one. I could not see the road-hazard flashers of Rosie's car until I got within twenty feet of it.
After dithering around about what to do I called both a tow-truck and the cops. Three squad cars showed up (they have to do something for excitement on such a slow night). The first cop was to my delight a woman -- at last little old Madison allowed a woman to break the gender barrier -- and adding to my delight was the fact that said peace officer was really cute. That never hurts anything.
With all the red, blue and yellow flashing lights we had a regular little festival of lights, making me want to break out the coffee and doughnuts to celebrate. Fires and accidents and the like are social occasions for the dear hearts and gentle people here, especially if no one is hurt or deprived all that badly. And you can count on these people to help.
As for the local literati, of course, yours truly being one of that number, it gives us something to write about.
I could not fault her for the error: this is absolutely the thickest fog I've ever seen in Indiana to my recall. I once was stuck for a couple of hours in a coastal fog in California that was about as bad but I think this present one topped the past one. I could not see the road-hazard flashers of Rosie's car until I got within twenty feet of it.
After dithering around about what to do I called both a tow-truck and the cops. Three squad cars showed up (they have to do something for excitement on such a slow night). The first cop was to my delight a woman -- at last little old Madison allowed a woman to break the gender barrier -- and adding to my delight was the fact that said peace officer was really cute. That never hurts anything.
With all the red, blue and yellow flashing lights we had a regular little festival of lights, making me want to break out the coffee and doughnuts to celebrate. Fires and accidents and the like are social occasions for the dear hearts and gentle people here, especially if no one is hurt or deprived all that badly. And you can count on these people to help.
As for the local literati, of course, yours truly being one of that number, it gives us something to write about.
Monday, February 19, 2007
In Heaven's Waiting Room
I like that. Heaven's Waiting Room. A new (to me) nickname for Florida. I also like the alternate name for the Gulf Coast: The Redneck Riviera. Anyhow, it doesn't feel much like the Florida with which I was familiar, i.e. the really warm one.
All the same, it's great. John and I drove to Dunedin this beautiful, sunny afternoon and walked from the small-town downtown to the coast. (Bay? Whatever. Big body of water.) Entertained there by a placid pelican who was entirely comfortable around human beings. He stood on a rail casually taking in the passing parade.
Or at least that's what I thought he was doing because he was turned half away from the water. Sunning himself after lunch, perhaps, and observing the curious creatures so unlike him.
As always, he turned out to be a far better fisherman than any hairless bipeds with poles, lines, and hooks and, they think, superior intelligence. We walked to another part of the pier where a man casted for a few minutes, then gave up his spot and moved elsewhere.
We started to leave. We saw Mr. Pelican on the surface of the water with his pouch distended, obviously consuming a catch. As we were leaving, he flew over to the rail where the frustrated man had been.
I think I heard the bird say, "OK. Let me show you a thing or two about catching fish. Losers."
All the same, it's great. John and I drove to Dunedin this beautiful, sunny afternoon and walked from the small-town downtown to the coast. (Bay? Whatever. Big body of water.) Entertained there by a placid pelican who was entirely comfortable around human beings. He stood on a rail casually taking in the passing parade.
Or at least that's what I thought he was doing because he was turned half away from the water. Sunning himself after lunch, perhaps, and observing the curious creatures so unlike him.
As always, he turned out to be a far better fisherman than any hairless bipeds with poles, lines, and hooks and, they think, superior intelligence. We walked to another part of the pier where a man casted for a few minutes, then gave up his spot and moved elsewhere.
We started to leave. We saw Mr. Pelican on the surface of the water with his pouch distended, obviously consuming a catch. As we were leaving, he flew over to the rail where the frustrated man had been.
I think I heard the bird say, "OK. Let me show you a thing or two about catching fish. Losers."
Monday, February 12, 2007
Oh, John! Oh, Rupie!
Newly minted presidential candidate Barack Obama replied yesterday to the Australian prime minister, who declared that Al Qaeda is rooting for Obama.
"I think it's flattering that one of George Bush's allies on the other side of the world started attacking me on the day after I announced," Obama said of the low blow from Down Under.
Prime Minister John Howard said Obama's plan to withdraw troops by March 2008 would play into terrorists' hands. "If I were running Al Qaeda in Iraq, I would put a circle around March 2008 and be praying as many times as possible for a victory, not only for Obama but also for the Democrats," Howard said.
Obama noted that Australia has only 1,400 troops in Iraq.
"If he's ginned up to fight the good fight in Iraq, I would suggest that he calls up another 20,000 Australians and sends them to Iraq. Otherwise it's just a bunch of empty rhetoric," Obama said.
Obviously the Illinois senator can take care of himself.
But you think there's any chance John Howard and Rupert Murdoch could go to Iraq? They could be foxhole mates. It would solve a LOT of problems. (Hitler was sexually frustrated too.)
Oh of course, it's all true about Barack and the Dems and the Commies and shit. For the straight dope (and a laugh), read this post.
"I think it's flattering that one of George Bush's allies on the other side of the world started attacking me on the day after I announced," Obama said of the low blow from Down Under.
Prime Minister John Howard said Obama's plan to withdraw troops by March 2008 would play into terrorists' hands. "If I were running Al Qaeda in Iraq, I would put a circle around March 2008 and be praying as many times as possible for a victory, not only for Obama but also for the Democrats," Howard said.
Obama noted that Australia has only 1,400 troops in Iraq.
"If he's ginned up to fight the good fight in Iraq, I would suggest that he calls up another 20,000 Australians and sends them to Iraq. Otherwise it's just a bunch of empty rhetoric," Obama said.
Obviously the Illinois senator can take care of himself.
But you think there's any chance John Howard and Rupert Murdoch could go to Iraq? They could be foxhole mates. It would solve a LOT of problems. (Hitler was sexually frustrated too.)
Oh of course, it's all true about Barack and the Dems and the Commies and shit. For the straight dope (and a laugh), read this post.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Alberta, Clip Us! Clip Us!
This I eviscerated from the Mount Washington Observatory's Weather Notebook: "You may not know that its capital is Edmonton. You may not care that it's as big as Texas. But if you live east of the Rockies, you've probably heard the name Alberta on your local weathercast. This Canadian province exports a particular kind of snowstorm to the U.S. It's called an Alberta Clipper, and it brings to the Great Lakes much of their annual snowfall.
"An Alberta Clipper is born on the high plains east of the Canadian Rockies. The average clipper then dives southeast, into the Dakotas and Minnesota, and then arcs eastward across the Great Lakes. On this track, a clipper stays hundreds of miles away from the mild waters of the Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico. This means your average clipper is moisture-deprived, so it won't drop huge amounts of snow. Instead of two or three feet, it'll leave just a few inches on a narrow track that goes by places like Milwaukee or Detroit. ...
"You'll likely see more clippers than usual during La Nina years, like this one. That's when the jet stream often dives south across the Great Lakes. This year, the Lakes were one of only a few spots in the nation where people actually saw a white Christmas, thanks to the Alberta Clippers."
My recall of first hearing that term was from Mark Eubank, a colorful (for Utah) meteorologist. I thought "Albert Clipper" was Mark's exclusive coinage, since he appeared to be the one who named a hot Great Salt Lake desert wind a "hatu," which sounded exotic, like the Chinook winds of the east slope of the Rockies, or the Harmattan winds of the arid northern region of Nigeria, or the Santa Anas from the Mojave -- but turned out to be "Utah" spelled backwards.
Tom Wills, our non-colorful (but my favorite because of his competence in spite of his "pallor") Louisville weathercaster, has been talking about Alberta Clippers frequently of late, and it is colder than blue Billy be damned right now. Last night Stephen Colbert in his Bill Orally guise said, "It's freezing cold right now. See? There's no global warming."
Of course only three days ago the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change issued an unequivocal report on the existence of the phenomenon of global warming and was just as unequivocal in attributing it to human activity. And Exxon has offered $10,000 to any scientist who will rebut that report. Which goes to show that we still have the best science that money can buy (and religion will allow).
For some reason, it's always been good for my morale to experience a little winter. I got the snow shovel out of the shed a while ago on the advice of Tom et al. that we are to get four to six this evening. So: Alberta, clip us! Clip us!
"An Alberta Clipper is born on the high plains east of the Canadian Rockies. The average clipper then dives southeast, into the Dakotas and Minnesota, and then arcs eastward across the Great Lakes. On this track, a clipper stays hundreds of miles away from the mild waters of the Atlantic or the Gulf of Mexico. This means your average clipper is moisture-deprived, so it won't drop huge amounts of snow. Instead of two or three feet, it'll leave just a few inches on a narrow track that goes by places like Milwaukee or Detroit. ...
"You'll likely see more clippers than usual during La Nina years, like this one. That's when the jet stream often dives south across the Great Lakes. This year, the Lakes were one of only a few spots in the nation where people actually saw a white Christmas, thanks to the Alberta Clippers."
My recall of first hearing that term was from Mark Eubank, a colorful (for Utah) meteorologist. I thought "Albert Clipper" was Mark's exclusive coinage, since he appeared to be the one who named a hot Great Salt Lake desert wind a "hatu," which sounded exotic, like the Chinook winds of the east slope of the Rockies, or the Harmattan winds of the arid northern region of Nigeria, or the Santa Anas from the Mojave -- but turned out to be "Utah" spelled backwards.
Tom Wills, our non-colorful (but my favorite because of his competence in spite of his "pallor") Louisville weathercaster, has been talking about Alberta Clippers frequently of late, and it is colder than blue Billy be damned right now. Last night Stephen Colbert in his Bill Orally guise said, "It's freezing cold right now. See? There's no global warming."
Of course only three days ago the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change issued an unequivocal report on the existence of the phenomenon of global warming and was just as unequivocal in attributing it to human activity. And Exxon has offered $10,000 to any scientist who will rebut that report. Which goes to show that we still have the best science that money can buy (and religion will allow).
For some reason, it's always been good for my morale to experience a little winter. I got the snow shovel out of the shed a while ago on the advice of Tom et al. that we are to get four to six this evening. So: Alberta, clip us! Clip us!
Friday, February 02, 2007
More on Molly, Goliath-Slayer
I lifted the following from Paul Krugman's column on Molly in the NY Times today (I'd link you to the column but it's available only for a price):
"[O]bituaries that mostly stressed her satirical gifts missed the main point. Yes, she liked to poke fun at the powerful, and was very good at it. But her satire was only the means to an end: holding the powerful accountable.
"She explained her philosophy in a stinging 1995 article in Mother Jones magazine about Rush Limbaugh. 'Satire ... has historically been the weapon of powerless people aimed at the powerful,' she wrote. 'When you use satire against powerless people ... it is like kicking a cripple.'
"Molly never lost sight of two eternal truths: rulers lie, and the times when people are most afraid to challenge authority are also the times when it’s most important to do just that."
That column by Molly was the first I recall reading, and I immediately became a fan. Even when I had trouble getting it online, Mandy would provide it for me in LEO, the Louisville Eccentric Observer. The column had an accompanying cartoon of Limbaugh fitting perfectly into the lard-assed Nazi butcher Hermann Goering's uniform. The resemblance is striking, physically and otherwise. (In case I'm being too subtle, I invite you to conclude that I despise Rush Limbaugh.)
That column, in which Molly likened Rush's idea of sport to "kicking a cripple," was inspired in part by Rush's stunt on his (now happily discontinued) TV show: he said that the Clintons had not only a cat (remember Socks?) in the White House but also a dog. Silence. Then he held up a picture of Chelsea Clinton. She was thirteen then.
I know that there are two parallel universes of American politics. But I can't imagine that Al Franken, the nearest counterpart to Rush in this, the good universe, would ever attack Barbara and Jenna Bush (who some would not hesitate to call the First Sluts). It's conceivable that Al would poke fun at them now, but they are, as many a blogger likes to say, quite eligible to serve in Iraq instead of globetrotting and carousing and making ugly faces at photographers, and, at their age, fully capable of defending themselves.
I've always favored the underdog, and Molly always took on George Dubya Shrub, from the time he was top dog in Texas, pointing out his mange, rabies, and distemper, in spite of his supposed pedigree. Molly was the David to his Goliath.
I urge whomever might read this drivel to reflect on what Krugman said was one of Molly's "eternal truths": "the times when people are most afraid to challenge authority are also the times when it’s most important to do just that."
What are we waiting for? Let's have an impeachment -- a series of them. And let's not make them "non-binding."
"[O]bituaries that mostly stressed her satirical gifts missed the main point. Yes, she liked to poke fun at the powerful, and was very good at it. But her satire was only the means to an end: holding the powerful accountable.
"She explained her philosophy in a stinging 1995 article in Mother Jones magazine about Rush Limbaugh. 'Satire ... has historically been the weapon of powerless people aimed at the powerful,' she wrote. 'When you use satire against powerless people ... it is like kicking a cripple.'
"Molly never lost sight of two eternal truths: rulers lie, and the times when people are most afraid to challenge authority are also the times when it’s most important to do just that."
That column by Molly was the first I recall reading, and I immediately became a fan. Even when I had trouble getting it online, Mandy would provide it for me in LEO, the Louisville Eccentric Observer. The column had an accompanying cartoon of Limbaugh fitting perfectly into the lard-assed Nazi butcher Hermann Goering's uniform. The resemblance is striking, physically and otherwise. (In case I'm being too subtle, I invite you to conclude that I despise Rush Limbaugh.)
That column, in which Molly likened Rush's idea of sport to "kicking a cripple," was inspired in part by Rush's stunt on his (now happily discontinued) TV show: he said that the Clintons had not only a cat (remember Socks?) in the White House but also a dog. Silence. Then he held up a picture of Chelsea Clinton. She was thirteen then.
I know that there are two parallel universes of American politics. But I can't imagine that Al Franken, the nearest counterpart to Rush in this, the good universe, would ever attack Barbara and Jenna Bush (who some would not hesitate to call the First Sluts). It's conceivable that Al would poke fun at them now, but they are, as many a blogger likes to say, quite eligible to serve in Iraq instead of globetrotting and carousing and making ugly faces at photographers, and, at their age, fully capable of defending themselves.
I've always favored the underdog, and Molly always took on George Dubya Shrub, from the time he was top dog in Texas, pointing out his mange, rabies, and distemper, in spite of his supposed pedigree. Molly was the David to his Goliath.
I urge whomever might read this drivel to reflect on what Krugman said was one of Molly's "eternal truths": "the times when people are most afraid to challenge authority are also the times when it’s most important to do just that."
What are we waiting for? Let's have an impeachment -- a series of them. And let's not make them "non-binding."
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Molly Ivins, 1944-2007
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