What Victory?

Right now, big time media (which is to say, virtually everyone) is touting Barack Obama's asskicking of the supposedly ascendant Republican party. Six short weeks (have we heard this phrase often enough?) after he called his party's defeat in the November elections a "shellacking", here he is, getting all kinds of legislation passed out of a lame duck Congress which is traditionally incapable of accomplishing anything, other than prepping their own way into the lucrative ranks of Washington lobbyists.

Granted, the things they passed are notable, not only because of their formerly controversial nature, but just by the shear volume of bills flogged into law. And the GOP has helpfully called themselves out as losers who somehow couldn't maintain their focus long enough to deny the President any victory at all. After all, that has been their strategy, often stated, since November 2008. Do they really have a reason to be so downhearted?

Sadly, no.

Think about what they have lost; The START Treaty; Don't Ask Don't Tell; Bad Food protection; extension of Unemployment benefits. All worthy bills, and we're all better off for their being signed into law. But are they essential or are they peripheral? Don't Ask Don't Tell is Civil Rights for the 2000's, and way overdue, but is any Republican going to suffer for being in opposition to it? Do they really care that it is now a reality? Would any Republican of the last three quarters of a century really have a problem with START? No, and no.

They defied the Dream Act, and they were successful. That may cone back to haunt them, as the country grows increasingly Hispanic. Yet, that is a comeuppance for another day.

What did they get, as we limped down the stretch of lame duckdom? Why they got their wealthy friends their tax break, further piling on to the national debt that they were so disgusted with during the late campaign. They kept absolutely everything that they really care about, exactly as it was before these non-essential Democratic issues were given their day. And oh yes, they also got the estate tax, which would have continued to aid in reducing the deficit, and which also provided at least some leveling to the catastrophic swing in favor of the well-to do.

Okay, I like that these other things got passed. It's nice to see Barack win a couple. It's nice to see him strut a little, and for our side to flip off the bad guys. But make no mistake; they got the big wins. And they know that they will have the whip hand a just a few days. Then, things will get truly ugly and little mercy will be shown.

It Never Stops

So I was driving today and heard this Republican on the radio decrying the Democrats' attempt to get the estate tax exemption out of the proposed tax bill. What it is, is that the bill as put forth by the Republicans would excuse the richest of the rich from having to pay the estate tax which has been their obligation for many decades. We're talking about one quarter of one percent of the population, about those whose wealth is mind-bogglingly, obscenely huge. They've amassed these staggering piles of loot, but it still isn't enough to pass on to their worthless, spoiled kids, who, even with the present estate tax, are still the equivalent of American royalty.

Anyway, this guy is saying that "studies" show that to apply the tax now would be "devastating" to the economy. Pray, what studies could these be? Who produced them, and who paid to have them produced? Remember, the tax was in place during each and every boom that we have experienced over many years. Why wasn't it devastating before? And why would it be devastating now?

He went on say (as Republicans so often do) that by further coddling the wealthy, we stand a much better chance of producing prosperity in the country. You know, like the way in which they kept so many jobs in the U.S., or how they keep the best interests of the middle class and the poor in mind. Like with this tax exemption. Why, of course they'll begin producing jobs in the millions if we make them even richer than they already are!

Of course, Obama likes this addendum to the bill just fine. Why not - he goes along with just about everything else they want. Only a few dedicated progressives in Congress continue to hold the line. I think principally of Bernie Sanders, who staged a wonderful "Mister Sanders Goes to Washington" revival on Friday, holding the floor for eight and a half hours in a one-man filibuster. Not merely quoting bullshit from the bible or phone book as so many hacks have done in the past, he talked about the bill itself, eloquently explaining how fundamentally wrong it would be.

It will probably be in vain. I suspect that the Republicans will be further emboldened, and press for ever more outrageous changes to the essence of what it once meant to be an American. I have a few modest suggestions which I'm sure they could get behind:

• A Constitutional amendment to ban all manufacturing jobs in the United States
• A "Make-Up" tax, so that the unwealthy pay a larger percentage of income to compensate for all the years that the super rich had to pay an estate tax
• The restoration of prima notte, allowing the new nobility to have first shot at poor and middle class brides, before their wedding night with their commoner husbands
• A law requiring special clothing for the unwashed multitudes: maybe something like short pants for the men and dirndls for women
• A law requiring the poor and middle classes to throw themselves into the mud if they see an noble exiting from their limo, so that they will have a sturdy back to tread upon, rather than soil their brunos

Nobles will be easy to spot, as they will all sport monocles and top hats.

Home Fries

Okay, in a few days you're going to have a lot of turkey hanging around, and the issue of what to have with it is going to come up. Well, here is one idea, and it happens to go well with a lot of things (all right, it goes best with eggs,but that's where turkeys come from).

I learned it at the Turtle Pier in St. Maarten, and it goes a little something like this:

Assume that there are four if you having this. You'll need:

five or six red skinned potatoes

3 Tbs unsalted butter

1 Tbs sweet onion or shallot, chopped

sweet paprika

tamari (or soy sauce)

salt & pepper to taste

Microwave the potatoes until nearly done. You don't want to cook them until completely done, because they will fall apart when you cook them and won't retain their shape in the pan. While you are cutting them into a large dice, get the skillet good and hot. You really want to use a cast iron one here, to get that good brown crust on the potatoes. If you don't have one, I suppose you could use a good quality skillet with a heavy bottom. If all you have is the non-stick kind, don't bother reading this. Go play a video game or something, and eat home fries in a restaurant. You don't deserve homemade home fries.

Put two Tbs butter in the pan and let it almost get brown, then put your potatoes in, making sure to have them in a single layer. Then LEAVE THEM ALONE, at lest for a few minutes, so that they can get brown on one side. While this is going on, chop the shallots. Sprinkle the shallots over the potatoes, then dot the pan with the remaining butter.

Now it's time to turn the home fries over (see what I did there? They're no longer merely potatoes, because they've picked up that crucial color). Once again, make sure that they are in a single layer. This is a good time to salt & pepper them. Remember, all potatoes love salt, so don't be shy. You can lower the eat to medium now.

You'll probably have to turn them at least one more time, and add some butter if necessary, but the entire cooking time in the skillet should be less than fifteen minutes. When there is only a minute or two left to cook them, give them a good dusting with the paprika and toss them about in the pan, allowing the spice to cook as well.

Once you have done that, turn the heat off and immediately splash a Tbs or two of the tamari over the home fries tossing them around so that they all get coated. This is the secret to these amazing little fellers.

enjoy

Are We Babies?

Seriously, are we? If things aren't exactly the way we dreamed them, if they fall short in any way whatsoever, why is it that we throw a fit? Of course, I'm not talking about me, or you, hopefully.

Okay, the Dems got hammered in the mid term, as predicted here a couple of weeks ago. Did cracks actually open in the earth's surface, swallowing us all? Is not the Democratic Party still in control of both houses, and will be until January? Then why the hell don't they make hay while they can, and and pass some truly progressive legislation while they still have the whip hand? There is a lot to be accomplished in the weeks ahead, if only they tap into some courage. Then, for the next two years, they can and should hone their message, and relentlessly point out to the public every time the Republicans abandon the American people in order to further enrich the wealthy. Believe me, you won't have to wait long for examples to present themselves.

Meanwhile, the breast beating over Obama's performance continues to be way over the top. The guy can't win: If he admonishes someone on the Right, he is "punching down" when conventional wisdom says one should never attack someone weaker in politics, but always punch up. If he fails to correct one of his opponents, then he is accused of being weak or indecisive. Also, I'm as progressive as anyone I know, but I also live in a real world with real obstacles, that I recognize as real. With the blue dogs in his own party, and they mad dogs in the opposition, he was never going to get a single payor health plan, let alone a public option, never mind how much obvious sense it makes to thinking people. The fact is that he got Health Care Reform, something no other President has gotten in sight of.

He passed Financial Reform (albeit a gelded version), something unthinkable in business-friendly Washington. The guy has accomplished a lot. I know, we want more. But for Christ's sake, if you look at it objectively, the dude has done a lot. And he is holding firm (at least for now) to a Rich Guys' tax hike.

I would like to see Dennis Kucinich become President, but that's never going to happen. Not in this country. Realistically, the choice will come down to Obama or someone like Romney, Huckabee or Palin. Is there really any debate? In 2000 I voted for Ralph Nader because I was tired of voting for the lesser of two evils. I wasn't wrong, because if Gore had only won his own state, he would have won the election (for that matter, if he had won the President's state, or had kicked Bush's ass any any of the debates, as was so attainable). So, I don't regret my vote in that election.

However, now we know how perverted the Right Wing of the Republican Party can be. We know how far they are willing to go in order to pursue their neofacist agenda. A wasted vote is no longer a viable option. Let the Righties split the vote between a grey face like Romney and a tinfoil hat wearing Tea Partyer. We can't afford to do likewise.

If Obama gets a second term, it will be his opportunity to do some really progressive things as other second termers have done (I know, Clinton blew that premise big time). He's a pragmatic son of a bitch, but he's also a student of history. We can still hope. Think of the scorched earth policies we'd have to endure under a Republican.

For the last few days, we have been overwhelmed with nonstop news reports about the poor, fat Americans stuck on a cruise liner, denied hot showers and possibly forced to eat Spam (later denied - they were forced to eat hot dogs) for less than a week. Yes, this is far worse than living in a tent city in Port-au-Prince, or having to survive a tsunami, or volcano, or drought, or genocide. After all, these were Americans, forced to deny themselves the buffet. So, by all means let's focus on that as the only really important news item.

Meanwhile, we Americans continue to cry over the potential of a tax increase. When will you get it through your brain pan that 95% of you just experienced a tax reduction, and that no one is calling for an increase that would affect over 5% of the population? For that matter, I am OK with a tax increase. Go ahead, whack me, if it means that we get to keep Healthcare Reform and introduce other reforms that help Americans less advantaged than me. Isn't that what being a citizen means? Do we have to reject everything that helps others, if it means that have to sacrifice the least little bit? We never had to surrender anything in pursuit of two wars (other than those who actually served, along with their families). Are we really such big assholes? Thus, my titled question.

Answer: Yes, we are Babies.

What's Next?

The pundits are racing to be (among) the first to predict how the minority (!) Obama administration will perform with the Elephants in charge of legislative initiative. In other words, since the House of Representatives will be Republican, and they are the ones who send new legislation to the Senate for their approval (and from there to Barack's desk for signature), how will he respond? With vetoes? With a lecture?

Some of the more prescient commentators have focussed on the pressure soon to be faced by the GOPs themselves.

Now, we know that they want to begin impeachment proceedings as of Day One. No, they don't have to have a legitimate reason - just something to kick them off, like Whitewater was under Clinton, and then go from there to the next thing, and then the next (like from WW to Troopergate, to Paula Jones, to Monica), until they've got the public focussed on salacious shit that doesn't have a thing to do with the real concerns of the American people. It worked, sort of, with Bill Clinton (although he was still popular despite all of the drama, yet nothing of significance was achieved on behalf of the American people).

Even as I speak, Darrell Issa is poised to become the next (semipermanent) Special Prosecutor, whose reason for existence will be to hound the President until he has been emasculated as a political force. The subtext there is fully intended, as any honest Republican or Tea Bagger would admit.

However, this could be a disastrous strategy for them. This is not 1998. The public has a much smaller appetite for Congressional bullshit than they did back then. They want results, and they better get it, or this group will out on their ass as well. Seeing the Black man on a spit may entertain the mob for a while, but most people will want something in return for our corporations' hard earned millions, spent on poorly qualified candidates.

Which brings me to my penultimate point. The Teabaggers who survive the public's common sense and actually get elected (a small minority, but a loud one), will have to produce for their tinfoil hat wearing fans. Expect them to act as though they have been in Congress for decades, presuming that they should call the tune for the other 95% of their colleagues. Can Boehner (the actual Brown Man in this scenario) herd this crew of crazy cats?

Finally, me & the Ms. spent Saturday on the National Mall, being entertained by John Stewart & 200,000 fans. We loved it, but we missed the biting commentary we have grown to love. Granted, he had made it clear that he was going to avoid overt mention of politics, but come on - you were a hundred yards in front of the Capitol building! And, conflating MSNBC with Fox just didn't work for me. One of these two does not lie. The other almost always does, and presents it as news. And... his name is Yusuf Islam. He has a LAST name too.

Anyway, if you ever do this again, you can sign me up.

Shmidterms

So the midterms are upon us (at last, you might say - let’s get the fucking things over with already), and as most predictions predict, the R’s are going to win, and win big. The reasons for this are several, you’ve heard them all, and they’re all true:

Every mid-term after a big Presidential win goes against him - this is historically inevitable. It doesn’t matter how favorably he was viewed two years before. They’ve decided that they hate him now.

We’re going through the worst financial clusterfuck in eighty years. Do you really think that the party in power, regardless of their role in bringing about the said CF, are going to survive intact?

Media is bigger and more in your face than in all of recorded history. If they are uniformly in line with the kick-the-bastards-out scenario being played out nightly, is there any chance that the Dems could survive the midterms?

Finally, if the biggest dog in the media pound, Fox News (still calling out the so-called mainstream media, when they themselves continue to be the biggest, most-watched outlet, and therefore the pure definition of mainstream) is beating the biggest drum, and the public, stripped of all critical thinking for decades now is listening to them for its daily “news”, is anything other than a Congressional takeover even thinkable?

Okay, I hear you saying that, certainly such a collection of genetically challenged candidates as those pushed forward by the GOP, especially the litmus tested Tea Party folk, cannot win. Surely, they are too batshit crazy for normal people to elect? Maybe. Prizes like Christine O’Donnell seem too far behind in the polls to succeed.

But she and the rest of her ilk (Miller, Angle, Paul, et al) hew to a strategy that seems at least possible to bring them victory. First, they make crazy, unverifiable statements about their opponent, or the President, or the direction of the country that are so insane that you just have to wait for them to say “just kidding”. Only they don’t They never say anything qualifying their lunatic position, and no one from the press ever calls them on it.

After their initial flurry of Just Plain Crazy, they decide to hide from the press entirely, except of course when Fox comes a-callin’. Every other media outlet is accused of trying to play “gotcha”, and is viewed as hostile. Fox, of course, plays along.

They engage in no debates, unless they are so far behind in the polls that they need to get on TV to say how they’re being misrepresented by their satan-worshiping opponent and unfairly beaten up by the mean old media.

Once in the debate, they never answer any real questions, but instead reply with a mini speech, which may (but probably won’t) have anything to do with the original query. Palin perfected this approach in her laughable debate with Joe Biden, even announcing beforehand that she intended to reply with her own answers and “not necessarily what they had asked her about”. Sadly, there are also some Democrats who employ this shameful method.

As long as things look good for them in the polls, you can expect to see no more of your Tea Party favorites than this. Of course, you’ll see plenty of them in ads - far more than you will of their opponents. I don’t need to go into why that is. You’ve read enough to know that their war chests are bloated with corporate (thanks, Supreme Court!) and foreign funds. And that gets me to the last reason why they will win on Nov. 2: Whoever spends the most wins. It’s general but true. The electorate - never really educated on the issues - will vote for whomever they’ve become the most familiar with.

Tale From a Trunk, The Salt Mountain

The good news is that a three part autobiography by Mark Twain will be published after one hundred years of silence, as he requested. The first of three installments comes this November.

It reminds me that I should go back to the trunk and see what else is in there.

This piece looks to be something that didn't make the cut when he submitted the manuscript for Roughing It. Maybe because of the guides.

Mountain of Salt

We had ten days before our carriage was to take us out west, and so some acquaintenances and I decided to visit a local oddity, called by some The Salt Mountain. I had never heard of such a thing. Our land is so vast and strange that its wonders cannot be catalogued, not to say glimpsed, in the lifetime of an ordinary man.

We hired as a guide Scripture Johnson, and his common-law wife, Patience. They were a ruffianly looking pair, and practically indistinguishable from one another, excepting that she had a shorter beard. Their filthy appearance was insult enough to decent society, but in addition they sought each other’s affections at regular intervals, and without the benefit of the saving cloak of night, or of a closed door. When this would happen (often while astride their mules), we set to with a groan of distaste which was matched by the braying protests of their beasts. “For pity’s sake”, they seemed to be saying, “Ride us into dust if you will, but spare us the sight of your unnatural coupling!”

They looked to all the world as a pair of twin brothers, slobbering over each other - the stuff of nightmares.

We found it necessary to ride upwind of them, which did not benefit the cause of their guiding, but we thought it better to take our chances than to endure their scent. Their beasts were denied this option, and so suffered greatly.

The object of our journey was supposed to be not more than forty miles south of St. Louis, but after three days we had not raised sight of its snowy prominence. Each morning we tested the air with our noses, hoping for a sea-tinged breeze signifying that the great salt promontory was within reach. For three mornings we were disappointed. By the fourth morning I was determined that our guide knew nothing of the famous mountain, and had taken us for fools. Scripture was satisfied that all would come out as foretold, but I grew increasingly annoyed by his incompetence. Perhaps I lacked patience.

That was what we call a groaner. The joke, if I may call it that, is a little frayed around the edges and will not stand on its own without visible support. The existence of such support only serves to identify the pun as weak and unable to remain fresh and upright on its own merit, and therefore ought to be retired or at least sent for a long vacation, where it may rest and gather its strength, until the public has forgotten its existence, and may be persuaded to enjoy it again many years in the future.

By the morning of the fourth day we were full of grumblings and of a mood to return to St. Louis, but Johnson assured us that we would raise the mountain early that day. We decided to give it another try.

The sky was gray and threatening. Dense flocks of black birds wound above us, crying in alarm. We were a mile or more from a river, traveling along its old course. Meandering ravines pulled one way and another. Thick cane breaks and old, vine-laden trees stretched over head and seemed to be following our slow progress. We talked little, then not at all. I imagine we each harbored dark thoughts as our mules carefully picked their way through the tangled growth all about us.

For an hour and a half we rode thus, until Scripture Johnson called a halt and pointed ahead, saying: “That way lies the mountain.” We leaned forward and strained our eyes seeking the snowy pinnacle, but all that greeted our gaze was more thicket. He happily explained that some quarter mile ahead the land rose steadily, culminating eventually in the looked-for salt mountain. ‘It’s wore down some,” he explained as we rode. “First Injuns, then regular folks, have been whittling at it for many a year. Deer too, they like to get their salt lick. Then again, the rains and the snows have had their go. It must have been something in its day, when you could see it from clear in St. Lou.”

We began to feel restive, and shifted in our saddles uncomfortably.

“But,” I ventured, “it’s still a mountain, isn’t it? All made of white salt?”

“Why, I guess some people still call it a mountain, so it don’t matter what some other people might say. It’s what the thing itself has come to be known as, what counts. Isn’t that right? Why, you were known by your name from the day of your birth, wasn’t you? But here you are, no longer a babe in arms, tall and strapping, full of whiskers, but still known by the same name. Isn’t that right?”

“Now see, I’m not much for philosophy. Can’t you tell me straight out - is it or is it not a mountain of salt, still?” He felt at his chin and shared a glance with Patience. I shuddered as she returned his look with a wink.

“It’s what’s left of a mountain. And there it is!” He gestured theatrically at the dense growth before us.

It looked no different than what we had been clawing through for the entirety of the morning, except that it was of a slightly higher elevation. As we approached the most impenetrable part of the thicket however, we saw that beyond the dry dead timber the ground was cleared. Finding that we could go no further while mounted we left our mules and picked our way through the bracken.

What we had thought was an impassable forest was in reality the ring of old rotten growth which surrounded the salt mountain like a protective wall. Nothing will grow on salt, but the force of nature crowded it closely, and sent exploratory vines, as thick as my wrist and as old as myself, across its surface like so many cracks in the surface of a frozen pond in March.

It was less a mountain, much less, than a dome. The open space created by the mound of hardened salt was little more than the amount of land required for a village green. And a small village, at that. It rose, and tapered from the ground where we stood to a promontory perhaps eight feet into the air. It was uniformly rounded, of rough texture, and gray or brown in color. Some of the vines had worn grooves into its surface. Dead leaves had also collected amid the arteries, which we brushed aside to better view this wonder. We chipped at it with our knives and put it on our tongues.

It was salt, but had an unpleasant taste of metal. “White folks stopped coming here a couple generations ago,” Johnson explained. “They found better salt somewheres else. Plus, some said it made your teeth blue.”

I imagined the place as it had once been, deep beneath the waters of the ocean. For uncounted eons it had lain there, quietly accumulating its layers of salt. Its only visitors then had been fish, or leviathan. There in the vast cold it had rested, surrounded by the dark and quiet. Then, some cataclysm had occurred, thrusting the sea bottom upward to the surface. Rivers and rains had cleansed the white peak, swelling rivers had cut remorselessly into its flanks. Its caustic matter repelled attempts by green growing things to inhabit its surface.

More eons passed, and finally men came. Savage Indians, they used the salt to cure their meat and to give it savor. A hundred generations of these men carved its sides, making it smaller. Each winter exacted a further price, melting it by degrees. When finally the White Man arrived, it was a mere suggestion of its former majesty. They too took its bounty, but soon found better sources for their salt. It was abandoned and forgotten, except by those few who rarely visited the lost mound, bringing with them a train of the curious.

We removed some large chips and placed them in our saddle bags, as souvenirs to enthrall our children. I had lost my piece before we began our journey west.

I'm Back and I'm Ranting!

I have been quiet for a few months while I worked on the census, but a couple of things have happened which have convinced me to break my silence.

The first was an interview I heard on NPR, and the second was the marriage of Chelsea Clinton.

The interview was with Charles Bowden, who was discussing his book, Murder City, Cuidad Juarez and the Global Economy’s New Killing Fields. I have since bought his book, which is a horrific account of how the drug cartels, along with the local, state, and federal police, and the Mexican army, have turned Juarez and large parts of Mexico into something rather worse than Somalia.

In his interview, he told of how there are over 150,000 addicts crawling along the dusty streets of this town across the border from El Paso. The cartels and the aforementioned military organizations have undertaken a persistent program of massive murder, torture and rape. Anyone looking into the causes, or the perpetrators of these crimes, is quickly added to the numbers of the dead. No one asks about it. They chronicle the gruesome deaths, they count the number of bullets fired and their calibre, they describe the state of the mangled corpses, but they rarely identify the victim, and they never call out the killers. Maybe they once did. But the few brave reporters who did are long dead, and their survivors have learned not to question.

There are dozens of acknowledged murders committed each month.Dozens more are anonymous, because the bodies are never found or because they are too insignificant to report. The ongoing myth is that these are wars between the various cartels, but the innocent are as numerous as the guilty, women and children are as well represented as the thugs, and the element of random homicide is as prevalent as the purposeful contract killing.

This is like Warsaw in 1939, Nanking in 1937, Berlin in April 1945, or Rwanda in more recent times. The difference is that the U.S. is a willing participant in the lie. We are told that we are working alongside the army to defeat the drug cartels, and that the latter are solely responsible for the mayhem. Based on their numbers alone, the army probably accounts for the most deaths, and certainly has committed the most rapes. We have portrayed them as our partners, and as fighters in a nobel cause.

But that is not the only thing that we have done to put that bleeding country on the cross.

Shortly after he came into office, Bill Clinton brought NAFTA into existence. It introduced agribusiness on a large scale to Mexico. Over a million small family farms were wiped out, unable to compete with the economies of scale. Poor, displaced farmers and their families migrated north, either to try their luck as illegal migrant laborers or as day workers in factories across the border in El Paso, working for pennies. In their desperation, many became in thrall to the burgeoning drug trade, which became more deadly with each passing year.

At the same time that their life was being permanently shattered, Americans found that their own jobs were being effectively outsourced, also permanently, to cheaper overseas vendors. The winners were a small group of investors, wealth managers, and players in the stock market. If all you looked at was the market, you would have to agree that things had never been better. Of course, manufacturing jobs had, by this time, been reduced by 90%, but there were more millionaires than ever before in our history.

Know any of them?

I would like to think that, as the proud father walked his daughter down the aisle, he thought for just a moment about the new millions introduced to poverty, probably to remain there for the rest of their lives, as a result of NAFTA and other business-friendly legislation he oversaw. I wonder if he spared a thought for the dead of Cuidad Juarez.

Yay, History!

A lot has been made recently of Virginia’s desire to push their Civil War history as a tourist draw, and the governor’s subsequent proclamation on the subject. At first he lauded their service in fighting against oppression in the form of a federal government which was trying to preserve the union. Then, when the public rightly condemned him for overlooking the detail of slavery, he made a hasty apology and inserted language asserting that the institution of human bondage may have been a bad thing after all. He was in keeping with the belief of many Southerners however, in that their deep denial features an understanding that slavery was only a peripheral issue, trailing “states rights” as the main cause of the conflict which cost over 600,000 American lives.

I say, let them have their fantasy. We can’t change them after all, any more than we can convince Tea Partyers that their motivation is really just that they’re racist. Let Virginians stew in their invention of a past. But let’s extoll our own past.

Connecticut enrolled 30 regiments in the Civil War. Most saw action, and a lot of it. I’ll take as example, just one of them, the 14th Connecticut Infantry Regiment. They fought in dozens of battles, including Antietam, Fredericksburg, Cancellorsville, Gettysburg, The Wilderness, Spotsylvania, Cold Harbor, Petersburg, and Appomattox. In other words, they kicked the Confederacy’s ass.

Vermont too, had many regiments which saw extensive service, and suffered losses of almost twenty percent. And don’t forget the 54th Massachusetts Infantry Regiment, roosting chickens in the Southland.

The North served and fought, and demonstrated bravery easily on a par with anything the South had to show, and they doubled down by doing it for a good and noble cause, something the South can never claim. Freeing millions of suffering people and preserving the union somehow sounds better than a contrived tale of the preservation of the way of life for a handful of slave owning aristocrats.

You know, I’m sure that the Wehrmacht had some good guys among its ranks. They were the best army in the world, and fought bravely and well. But by no stretch would they or their descendants say today that they fought a justifiable war. At least they have that advantage over some Americans.

Another Tale From a Trunk, conclusion

It took just minutes to find the fellow, and he even spoke a few words of English. No doubt our Anglo Saxon cousins from across the channel made the crossing with some regularity in order to have laugh at the old corporal’s expense, and our guide had picked up some of their speech in consequence. Not much, as we quickly learned, but enough to amuse us.

The place was hushed under the great dome of Les Invalides as we approached the marble balustrade which loomed above the cavern in which the sarcophagus lay. All was dead still as we leaned over the smooth polished stone and gazed at the resting place of Napoleon the Great.

There was a structure the size and faintly like the shape of a small house, carved of red porphyry and sitting on top of a granite base. It was a fine piece if work, surrounded by gigantic statues of mourning deities. We watched it in respectful silence for some minutes, aware of the docent’s eye, and knowing that he was expecting due reverence.

Dan and I exchanged a surreptitious glance or two, and I could tell that he was holding something back. I wanted to kick him over the railing into the space below, but forbore, due to the gravity of the scene. This was akin to the tomb of Washington to them, I supposed, and I was loath to sacrilege it with a jest. But I could see Dan growing red with the strain, and knew that it was going to come.

Finally, he looked at our companion, and gesturing to the mass of red below said,

‘Is he - ah - is he dead?”

The fellow jumped backward as if shot. “What? What? L’Emperor - he mort!” He shook his head in bewilderment.

“Now see here,” Dan answered sternly. “We are mere travelers in your country, and aren’t especially fine, I suppose, but if it’s not asking too much, we would like to speak to the Emperor.”

“If he’s not too busy,” I added helpfully. This brought fresh protestations from the guide, and no small wringing of his hands.

“It’s only a word or two I’m asking,” Dan persisted. “If he’s too busy...”

I suggested that we knock on his door and see if we could rouse him. As fortune would have it there was a curved stairway nearby which led directly down to the sarcophagus itself. We raced down the stairs, the fearful guide on our heels. Dan began to rap against the side of the structure, additional guides arrived, joined by uniformed policemen, accompanied by soldiers, and we quickly found ourselves back on the street.

It was sad to leave Paris, just as we were enjoying ourselves so.

Treme

I first visited New Orleans in the fall before the flood. The next time was 18 months afterwards. Those two occasions made me fall in love with its tattered, faded and resilient charm, and I was ready to resume the affair even before I watched HBO’s latest dramatic series,Treme (pronounced Tre-May).

The creators of The Wire, one of the best shows ever, have nailed it with this series, placed in the Crescent City three months after Katrina. Many veterans of that revered program populate this effort. If you have ever been to New Orleans, the opening scene will choke you up. A group of veteran jazz men gather to stage a mini parade through the cluttered, wasted streets of their city, perfectly symbolizing their pride and determination. They are belatedly joined by a trombone player, arriving via a taxi he is too poor to afford (a theme repeated throughout the show’s debut). The first notes you hear are enough to convince you that he is a master, albeit one with domestic issues.

There follows a montage over the credits, depicting scene after scene of cruddy walls, each with a telltale rim of back, smudgy mold, where the high water mark of the flood has been left. You can almost smell the city’s pain here. That introduction was possibly the best I have seen, providing a visceral sense of New Orleans, and made me an instant convert.

Treme follows the paths of several characters, some of whom have ridden out the worst of the storm and are trying with great difficultly to rebuild, and those who are returning after their diaspora, with the same goal. The trombone player visits his ex-wife in her bar after the parade. She is looking for her brother, who is among the missing. Assisting her is a lawyer, who has her issues with the police. Her husband, portrayed by John Goodman, channelling his best Walter Sobchak, is a conspiracy theorist convinced that federal animus has created the flood.

A local radio DJ, hearing the band parading down the street for the first time since the deluge, leaps from his bed to join the march, leaving his sometime girlfriend to find her way to work. She owns and cooks in a fairly upscale restaurant, struggling like everyone else to make it under difficult circumstances. Returning to the city around the same time is a Crewe Chief, one of those whose job it is to direct a group participating in one of the city’s many parades. His appearance late in the initial episode in full regalia is a sight to behold.

This series is all about the music, which permeates every scene and is of a very high order. It is also about the food, and the sorrow, and the hope that makes New Orleans the special place that it is. Do yourself a favor and watch Treme. Then do yourself another favor and visit the city.

Another Tale From a Trunk, pt. 1

I found this fragment, and felt that it must have been something left out of Innocents Abroad. Parts of it were badly faded, and I may have gotten some of it wrong.

The Art of Paris

We were to depart on the morrow, and naturally feeling sad to leave that eternal city (just how many of the old continent’s cities are eternal?), Dan and I decided to enjoy a last stroll. We walked by the Isle de Citie, and I managed to refrain from making another visit to The Notre Dame, much to Dan’s dismay.

We strolled along the Seine, which is split by the island containing the old church. Much is made of that stream by the poets, but having piloted the grandfather of waters in my youth, I found it lacking. I told Dan that I could probably spit across the water, and let fly with one by way of demonstration. Nearly made it across too, and was rightly proud of myself - that is, until he pointed out a fellow a little down the bank, who was managing to do the same thing with his urine.

Dan then inquired what I wished to do on our last day in that great city, and I told him that I craved to peer at Napoleon’s tomb, for never had there been a more murderous man in all of European history, and that is going some. “It must be covered in sulfurous brimstone,” I opined.

“Why,’ I continued, “he left a million frenchmen dead on the plains of Russia, and on other fields, a few million more. Do you know, French men are shorter than their continental counterparts? You can look it up. He drafted all of the males of France into service, starting with the tallest.” When all of the seven footers were killed off, he drafted the six footers. When they were all used up, he moved on to the five footers. Eventually, there none left but dwarves. Since then, France has been trying to catch up to the rest of the world, size-wise. Until now, they’ve come up a bit short, if you’ll forgive me. The Emperor, Napoleon’s nephew, figures that he has to wait another hundred years before he’ll be ready to take on an opponent, due to the stature of the raw material that he has got to work with.

“Such an evil person has got to have an impressive, evil-looking tomb,” I reasoned. It would be a hundred feet tall, and guarded by trolls. Napoleon the younger had had the corpse carted back to Paris Years before, from his neglected grave on St. Helena.

Dan was convinced, and we hired a hack to take us to Les Invalides, which served as the great dictator’s latest address.

En route, our driver, through the means of Dan’s truly horrific French, deduced our mission. This was miraculous, because Dan’s abilities in the language were dire. He didn’t merely wound the thing. He killed it as dead as Napoleon himself, and into the eleventh generation. I suspected the driver of some mind-reading trick, and suggested to him that it were so. This seemed to upset him, so I let it go.

We arrived at the tumble of bricks and mortar that are Les Invalides, part museum and part old soldiers home. The last part is no longer true, but I wanted to say a good word for the place.

I was content to look over the martial artifacts which were there in abundance. One item struck with particular poignancy. It was a cuirass, or metal breastplate, worn by a dragoon at Waterloo. Over where the heart would have been, a jagged hole pushed outward, some four inches across. It must have been made by a piece of artillery shell, or perhaps by grapeshot. He would have been shot in the back, as he rode away from one of Wellington’s squares on the battlefield. And so a young man, full of ardor and pride, died before he realized his life’s ambitions, and before he knew what had struck him. This mangled bit of shining metal now resides in Les Invalides, mounted on a post. Its owner would have been an aged grandfather now, heavy with years and respect, telling his rapt audience of how he has once served under the immortal Napoleon.

As I was saying, I was quite content to wander amid these reminders of folly, but Dan was hot to get on with it, so we sought a docent to direct us to the object of our search.

TO BE continued...

Just Two Things, and Then I'll Go

Here's a couple of things that have me wanting to mouth off.

I saw a note on the CNN site that reported how some Democrats are joining the Tea Party movement. They say that they liked Obama to begin with but now see he is really bad for the country. I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that they are not among the 50 million or so who don't have health care coverage. I don't get it: if we are such a great country, what is it that makes us say fuck you to our fellow citizens, as long as we have what we want in our lives? Isn't it best if everyone has a chance? Doesn't that make for a stronger country overall?

Then you look closer at the CNN article and you see that 96% of Tea Partyers call themselves Republicans, and only 4% define themselves as Democrats. And if you look even further, you can see at least one "Democrat" saying that he eventually voted for John McCain. Just what kind if Republican is that? And what is CNN's angle? They couldn't come up with any real Democrats who dislike the administration enough to join an openly racist organization? Guess not.

The second thing that has gotten me a bit riled is the latest Roman Catholic pedophilia scandal. Of course, the acts resulting in the scandal go back decades, and continue to occur today, but let's not sweat the details. I saw a letter in Time magazine from a woman who said: "Pedophiles exist in all walks of life, yet Catholic priests get the headlines, even though just a tiny percentage have committed this shameful offense. Choosing to live the vow of chastity is a gift of one's total self to God and has no relevance whatsoever to pedophilia."

First, I would wonder what percentage of pedophiliacs in a religious organization, often left in charge of young children, is acceptable. Second, you miss the point if you think that the greater offense is in the acts of a sick individual. It is, by far, in the universal cover up committed by the Catholic Church in their delaying, obstructing, denying, and removal of the offender from retribution, and their placing of that offender in a position to commit the same crimes, without a hint of warning to the new community of victims. They haven't just driven the getaway car, they have loaded the gun, they have formulated the plan, they have held the victim down while the perpetrator raped them, again and again. They are just as guilty, and they should be made to pay. And when they are done, by which I mean when they have run out of money, they should be shut down, so that at long last a plague can be removed from the people.

The Good Guys Win One, Sort Of

OK, Let's review:

The Dems passed Healthcare Reform last weekend. I watched hours of the "debate" on C-Span. The Democrats, knowing that they were going to win, were pretty happy go lucky and non-confrontational. The Republicans, knowing that their dreams of a Waterloo for Obama were turned into his Austerlitz, reverted to vituperation, essentially practicing their 2010 Fall campaign rhetoric.

It got pretty ugly, and in a "world turned upside down" vignette, Bart Stupak, that glory-seeking, control-your-bedroom throwback jerk, played the role of hero as he was viciously attacked while making his speech in support of the bill, Since then he has continued to be the target of scary threats from the Friends of Rush.

Verbal, bodily fluid and even more sinister attacks have continued to be the order of the day, perpetrated on the majority party while the minority stands by, cheering on the thuggish actions and decrying what they perceive as the "socialist" activities of the Democratic party for having provoked those actions. Seriously, the Democrats of today are more like the Republicans of the fifties than they are like any truly progressive organization.

And of course, media pundits continue to blame the inflamatory behavior of "both sides". I would really like to know what the Democrats have done or said that could be construed as inflamatory, particularly when compared with Republican talking points. Any instances of them saying that one who voted the other way would be "dead", or that they should be put in the cross hairs, that they should prepare to reload, or that their opponents should be crushed? Days after the worst of the outrages John Boehner finally pronounced a tepid denunciation of the hatred, but only to say how it had been justified. Meanwhile, Democratic congressmen and women are receiving scary death threats daily, directed at them and their families.

Then, in a Rovian twist, Eric Kantor claied that someone shot through his office window and left mean messages on his voice mail. Of course, he refused to release the messages because he didn't want to stir things up, and later police said that someone had shot into the air nearby his office. Hmm. How do you make a mistake like that? Remember in his first campaign as an advisor, back in Texas, when Karl Rove saw that his guy was trailing in the polls? He planted a listening device in his own office, called the police, and claimed that it had been placed there by the Democratic opponent. The tide turned and his man won. Later, the police found that the device had been installed just 15 MINUTES before they were called. I think that the cops should check Kantor's weapons to see of any of them had been field recently.

Finally, the next strategic move by the GOPs is to have Republican governors attempt to declare this new federal law unconstitutional. That is called nullification, and here is a very brief history lesson on the subject. In the first half of the nineteenth century southerners were worried that their rights (read: slaves) might be taken away from them by government fiat. South Carolina led the charge to defy the assumption of federal primacy, and announced their intention to exempt themselves from the Tariff law. This was called nullification, meaning that the states did not have to follow laws created by Congress. Andrew Jackson disagreed with this

contention, pointed out the lack of constitutional support for nullification, and threatened to invade the state with the federal army if they did not stand down. They did, for nearly thirty years, until they tried it again with a little thing I like to call the Civil War. You know how that turned out.

This latest attempt has all the constitutional credibility that those other ones did. It's time to tone it down and move on to other issues that need attention, such as immigration reform. Now there's something that should pass quietly.

Can It Really Happen?

For almost a year now, I have thought that the finish line was in sight. I was wrong. It has taken this long to get to the point where we are ready to vote on Healthcare Reform, and we are ready to pass that motherfucker.

Now, I've likened this thing to a shit sandwich in the past, and I've not really changed my mind on that. It's a really flawed bill, with its gift of additional members to the insurance industry, its lack of significant restraints on those same companies, and its utter lack of a public option.

But when Bernie Sanders, the only avowed Socialist in the Congress, says that he will support it, then I have to consider its merits, such as they are. And when Dennis Kucinich, that brave iconoclast, says that he too will vote in favor, then I have to reconsider my position. The fact that it will stick it up the ass of a bunch of recalcitrant Republicans only sweetens the deal.

The overriding fact is that it will allow some 21 million (depending on who you talk to) currently uninsured Americans to obtain coverage. For me, that trumps every other consideration.

And as Bernie says, as soon as we pass it, we immediately begin to improve it. Now, I personally feel that this is a generational thing, and that it will probably take another 20 years for further change, but who knows? Maybe a collection of concerned elected officials will continue to work for the good of the American people and we'll get to see some real reform. Note, for example, that Rep. Grayson is pushing for an amendment to open Medicare to all comers who want to pay to play. A good idea that deserves some attention.

And oh yeah, the OBM says that it WILL save $billions, almost a $1 trillion over the next 20 years.

So there you have it. By this weekend we may have the first impactful social legislation to pass in decades. My only question is: what crazy, damn-the-people-who desperately-need-help strategy in the eleventh hour will the Republican haters spring on us this time?

This Was the Week That - um - Was

Let’s review, shall we? Recently I said that, in the wake of Joe Stack’s suicide plunge into an IRS building and resulting attention to his rambling political memo, there would soon be imitators. Now, scant days later, we have John Bedell, shooting up a metro stop outside of the Pentagon. He leaves behind writings full of anti-government bile. Now do you believe that there will be another? And another? Glenn Becks and Rush Limbaughs of the world take notice: your responsibility is becoming clearer every day.

What else? Exaggerated importance has been given to Sarah Palin’s stand up routine on Leno. Since we first saw her at the Republican convention in August 2008, has she ever given a speech that was anything other than a collection of one-liners? Wouldn’t you think by now that she would be better than the halting, unsure performer we saw the other night? Everyone seems pretty giddy over a bit that was short on real wit and long on amateurism. Since she abandoned the governorship for the green pastures of punditry I have said that she is so much less interested in public office than she is in making a buck. See anything that’s changed?

Logan Airport in Boston got a set of the new body scanners this week. Any bets on how long it will take before someone leaks images of attractive females?

Speaking of leaks, that powerpoint slide of Republican donation strategies has gotten the media pretty excited. Seems like some over eager planner described how they should go after regular folks vs the wealthy, by stoking fear and reactionary panic among little folks like you and me, while stroking the rich while handing them cheap, GOP-branded souvenirs. That they suggest doing these things is not the scandal of course, only that they were stupid enough to put it in writing. These are exactly the talking points they have been following so effectively since the good old days of Lee Atwater in the 1980’s.

Barack Obama finally told the Grand Old Party that he was going to move ahead on Healthcare Reform, without them if necessary. He enumerated how many items on their wish list had made it into the bill, and not surprisingly it’s still not enough for them. I guess he finally realized that they’re just not that into him. Maybe he should take the ones who got him there (progressives, that is), to the dance. And since they really want the public option, maybe that could be their corsage. Okay, this metaphor is starting to creep me out.

Finally, Karl Rove has just released a book in the same week that Alice in Wonderland came out. One of these is a fairy tale complete with unbelievable characters acting weirdly. The other one was written by Lewis Carroll.

Democracy In action

The big summit at Blair House has come and gone, and things remain as they were. Is anyone surprised by this? Predictably, the Republicans used it as a forum to speechify about how appalled they are by the proceedings thus far. Without asking any specific questions, or offering any detailed recommendations, they simply used the occasion to replay the past year in a series of speeches in which they continued to perfect their already superb rendition of fake outrage: “We can’t believe that you would put unrelated things in that bill! It’s pork, I tells ya, and we wouldn’t touch it with our dainty fingers! And just look at how big this thing is! Yuck!” Like they never put out a bill that wasn’t loaded with special favors, or massively larger than it neeed to be. Suddenly the age-old traditions of bill-processing catches them unawares, and it is just too much for their delicate sensibilities.

Eric Kantor predictably brought a copy of the bill (or else several reams of blank copy paper) as a prop. What’s next, a rubber chicken? Rep. Kyl actually lectured the President about the issue, which is like explaining the Theory of Relativity to Albert Einstein. After a full day of this kind of blather and posturing, Obama’s jaw was so tight from flexing that it began to resemble a bicep.

And the Democrats were scarcely better. Realizing that the entire event had turned into nothing more than another Republican campaign stop for the 2010 election, they became progressively less polite as the day wore on. Harry Reid looked (finally) as though he realized he should have crammed reconciliation down their throats months ago. Not too late, Harry. The GOPs continued to demonize the legislative tactic they were only too happy to use when it suited them, only to become belatedly fastidious when the opposition uses the same means.

We’re in a dangerous position here, and it extends beyond this one (albeit crucial) issue. Nourished by a repetitious media, the American public is increasingly despairing of the ability of Congress to function in any way, other than to protect special interests. This is nothing new of course. The lure of power and largess has turned many an honest man bad before. It was so bad during the Great Depression, that over 20% of the population turned towards Socialism or Communism as a preferred means of obtaining relief or redress.

What’s different now is that the drum beat of anger is being stirred up by so many more television and internet apostles of revolt. A population under severe economic stress, being told that Congress is irredeemably broken, that radical change is necessary and right, and with access to untold amounts of weaponry, is a dangerous thing indeed.

On a lighter note, Dick Cheney suffered his 67th heart attack recently. I’m not going to make the obvious joke that the doctor found nothing in there. In fact, I don’t even want Dick to die. Not yet. See, I’m still holding out hope that he will be called to account one day, that the hoped-for war crimes trial will be held, and that we will get to enjoy his perp walk to oblivion.Then, let nature take its course.

Keep smiling.

News From the Front

So Joe Stack III banked his Piper Cherokee into an IRS building in Austin Texas and took two lives along with his own. He had fought for many years against the government and its tax policies and finally, in a Quixote-like gesture, charged the symbolic source of his woe. Like Quixote, he was deluded and unbalanced. And like the fictional hero, he will have his admirers.

Having done a quick check of reactions on the interweb I would say that he is receiving a 60% favorable response to his crime, calling him a patriot and making recommendations for a statue to be erected in his honor. And here’s the thing: an angry, bitter man in his life, his words are being read by millions following his death. Is there a lesson in this for any other would-be martyrs?

I read his so-called manifesto. There is nothing particularly political about it: he hated all politicians, and the government generally, and the IRS specifically. He did not appear, at least in this writing, to adhere to any particular group. But watch the right latch on to him. He will become one of their secular heroes. And Glen Beck will shed a tear or two. That’s right: he’ll say that it was unfortunate that he did what he did, but that he can understand how he was driven to this act. Make no mistake Glen. This murderer is one of your children. You have helped create the atmosphere where something like this is not only possible, but seems like a reasonable response. Yes, Joe Stack will be owned by the right.

The media will have its usual say, telling us that there are extremists on both sides, that violence is not limited to right wingnuts, that both are responsible for the breakdown in civil discourse. But remember: It is the right which violently attacks and kills, at abortion clinics, at homes, at churches.

It is the right that happily shuts down the work of government, without regard to their stand on the issues, only to serve a political end.

It is the right which vilifies government aid to struggling states publicly, while accepting the checks quietly.

It is the right which forms a new political movement in the name of tax reform, while it turns a blind eye to the virulent racism with which it is imbued.

It is the right which has perfected “blame the victim”.

It is the right which has created paramilitary groups armed to the teeth, with the avowed aim of overthrowing the democracy.

It is the right which has been busy stockpiling weapons and ammo for years, but especially since the last election, creating a much more dangerous environment, all the while clinging to a bogus reading of the second amendment.

So don’t tell me that there are extremists on both sides. Don’t tell me that the violence and evil intent is comparable, because the facts will not support you.

Joe Stack killed and died because he believed that the government was engaged in a nefarious plot against him. To the right I say: you can have him. We don’t want him.

Can I Get a Hero?

What makes a hero?

It used to be a term reserved for unique individuals, those who sacrificed all on behalf of others. In ancient Greece, to be a hero was to be on a par with the gods. In Rome heroes excelled in war, often at the cost of their lives, and when the danger had passed, if they survived, they were expected to return to their regular lives. Or they might have sought high office, perhaps as Consul. As time went on, heroism was seen as a path to higher station, and not necessarily as an end in itself.

In later days we have heard countless tales of heroism, often in war time. The common assumption was that an individual did not seek glory, but did the hard thing. Maybe he was afraid, wishing he were somewhere else, but when bravery was called for, he stepped up. He didn’t brag about it. We usually heard about his courage from others. This was true throughout the Second World War, when “heroes” insisted that the truly brave ones were those who did not return.

Who are the heroes of today? Are they as rare, as special as they once were? Let’s see. I do know that you hear the word hero thrown around a lot more than ever.

For starters, every one who puts on a soldier’s uniform today is automatically called a hero. This is without regard to what they do, whether here in the U.S. or overseas. What would older generations of service men think, when they blushed at the thought of being referred to as heroic, knowing that they had done nothing to deserve it? You could sit on your ass in Ft. Dix for the duration, counting rations, but don’t worry, you’re a hero. Hey, that they sacrifice something for their country is not in question. It is notable, even special. But heroic?

This also goes for anyone who wears a uniform. Police or Fire, you’re a hero. Now, if you run into a burning tower believing that its collapse is imminent, knowing that you’re probably not going to survive, but running in anyway to possibly save a life, then not to worry brother, you are a hero, and you can have a statue erected in your honor. Hell, I’ll help to put it up.

So, to recap, anyone in uniform is a hero. Postal worker, boy scout, ticket taker, lunch lady. Heroes, one and all.

But just in case you think that the bar is still a little high, in this modern, no-effort life we have here in the U.S., think again. How many times have you heard children, when asked who their heroes are, cite their parents Yes, all you have to do is have a kid, and you too can be a hero. If you do the things a parent is supposed to do, you get patted on the back. What could be easier? None of that messy, dangerous stuff for you.

Maybe you don’t have kids. Maybe you’re a social disaster, or have problems with the ladies. That’s OK. There are millions of children who have been raised with an artificially lowered expectation of what should constitute a hero. Give them a candy bar, and they’ll probably think that you’re a hero! Yes, you don’t actually have to do anything!

And that’s not all. There is a new category of hero. One who not only doesn’t have to do anything, but has only to be alive. Yes, if you survive a terrible disease, you are considered a hero. For some reason, this only seems to work with cancer. If you have diabetes, or cholera, or rickets, you are just some schmuck who got sick, and then got lucky (on a count of you didn’t die). But, if you get cancer and come out of it, you are a survivor! You get a parade, and believe me, you are a hero. If you got cancer and died, it’s sad, but no matter how hard you fought, whatever spirit you showed, you’re not quite a hero.

Isn’t this a great country?