The Onion makes me cry.

"Upon reflection, I may have exaggerated my skills in midwifery."

That's the title of one of the Onion's editorials this week. It's simply a great sentence. With a great word at the end, "midwifery."

Discuss.

That's one out of eight, neighbor!

The Bush economy is like the drunk guy in Poppadox, raising his voice louder and louder, just daring the staff to throw him out. I mean, after all, the drunk guy's dad runs a major hospital, I mean, it's not like some heads could roll if he's thrown out.

It's one of those dilemmas that no one important wants to talk about, for fear of death, or worse, loss of social status.

Our country is liable for fifteen trillion dollars of debt. Over fourteen trillion dollars is directly due to the economic phenomenon known as Reaganomics or Bushonomics. The other six percent, genuine, unfraudulent big-government overspending.

The publicly acknowledged debt is seven and a half trillion. It's gone up almost a trillion bucks since last May when I wrote my song "Magic (Five Trillion Bunnies)", a song whose bunnies subtitle refers sneakily to the federal deficit. I've since had to change it to "Magic (Seven Trillion Bunnies)", but never did I realize that the seven trillion figure might be badly outmoded by, say, November. I don't want to have to change the number again! "Nine" is allright, as a lyrical device, but "ten" sucks. There's no power, not even any satirical power in "ten."

The rest of the debt is calculated from local and municipal debts that taxpayers are responsible for, as well as shortfalls in government programs such as Social Security. In the 1980's (I can't imagine that the timeframe has any relevance to who was holding office at that time) over three trillion dollars was transferred, in cash, out of the Social Security Trust Funds A and B, replaced by equal-in-1988-dollars-but-worthless government bonds. I call them worthless because they have been traded into oblivion. Earlier this year more government bonds were traded than exist. This type of fraud and silliness will only be tolerated by the major bondholders (Japan, China, Germany, for you Risk players out there) for so long until their economies are similarly stretched to the point where they have to 'fess up.

On top of that, American consumers have two trillion dollars in private debt, a record in absolute terms, and a number in adjusted terms that was last seen in, um, 1934. Similarly, foreclosures are at a post-Great-Depression high, with 6% of all real estate deals in foreclosure or in the process of foreclosing. The real estate crisis is a combination of an unhealthy, twenty-five-percent-above-inflation bubble, which will correct itself painfully or more painfully at some point, and a relaxed policy of lending (lower interest rates, variable rates, increased first-time buyer kickback) that was intended to kickstart other fraud-dulled sectors of the economy. The wheels of commerce go round and round...

I don't have a house, so I'm certainly no expert. But if I were running a country and ran through trillions of extra dollars, I would at least have the media in my pocket, and I would have bribed enough people over a long enough period of time so nobody from either party really ever brought it to the public's attention. Wait...

P. S. Or I'd have a KICKIN' album collection. Albums.

That's one out of eight, neighbor!

The Bush economy is like the drunk guy in Poppadox, raising his voice louder and louder, just daring the staff to throw him out. I mean, after all, the drunk guy's dad runs a major hospital, I mean, it's not like some heads could roll if he's thrown out.

It's one of those dilemmas that no one important wants to talk about, for fear of death, or worse, loss of social status.

Our country is liable for fifteen trillion dollars of debt. Over fourteen trillion dollars is directly due to the economic phenomenon known as Reaganomics or Bushonomics. The other six percent, genuine, unfraudulent big-government overspending.

The publicly acknowledged debt is seven and a half trillion. It's gone up almost a trillion bucks since last May when I wrote my song "Magic (Five Trillion Bunnies)", a song whose bunnies subtitle refers sneakily to the federal deficit. I've since had to change it to "Magic (Seven Trillion Bunnies)", but never did I realize that the seven trillion figure might be badly outmoded by, say, November. I don't want to have to change the number again! "Nine" is allright, as a lyrical device, but "ten" sucks. There's no power, not even any satirical power in "ten."

The rest of the debt is calculated from local and municipal debts that taxpayers are responsible for, as well as shortfalls in government programs such as Social Security. In the 1980's (I can't imagine that the timeframe has any relevance to who was holding office at that time) over three trillion dollars was transferred, in cash, out of the Social Security Trust Funds A and B, replaced by equal-in-1988-dollars-but-worthless government bonds. I call them worthless because they have been traded into oblivion. Earlier this year more government bonds were traded than exist. This type of fraud and silliness will only be tolerated by the major bondholders (Japan, China, Germany, for you Risk players out there) for so long until their economies are similarly stretched to the point where they have to 'fess up.

On top of that, American consumers have two trillion dollars in private debt, a record in absolute terms, and a number in adjusted terms that was last seen in, um, 1934. Similarly, foreclosures are at a post-Great-Depression high, with 6% of all real estate deals in foreclosure or in the process of foreclosing. The real estate crisis is a combination of an unhealthy, twenty-five-percent-above-inflation bubble, which will correct itself painfully or more painfully at some point, and a relaxed policy of lending (lower interest rates, variable rates, increased first-time buyer kickback) that was intended to kickstart other fraud-dulled sectors of the economy. The wheels of commerce go round and round...

I don't have a house, so I'm certainly no expert. But if I were running a country and ran through trillions of extra dollars, I would at least have the media in my pocket, and I would have bribed enough people over a long enough period of time so nobody from either party really ever brought it to the public's attention. Wait...

P. S. Or I'd have a KICKIN' album collection. Albums.

Easy like Sunday morning

This was clearly the best trip I've ever had to the Hy-Vee on 33rd and Minnesota, at least in terms of background music. Now, this particular Hy-Vee has been known to play the soul music throughout the store, REAL soul music, which contributes in no small part to why I shop for groceries there. But today was the best trip yet. The two songs I heard while inside were: "She's Not Just Another Woman" by The 8th Day, and "Clean-Up Woman" by Betty Wright. If I were assigned to make a compact disc with underappreciated, groovy nuggets from the early 1970's, these two songs would easily make the cut. And I heard them, in all their groovy glory, one right after the other, in Hy-Vee, while several Lutherans strolled through the aisles, in slacks, checking the numbers on the back of the soup.

Any grand unified theory must first be able to explain David Lee Roth.

For one thing, the 'field general' says HUT

I guess one thing that bugs me about football is the militaristic quality.

I know, some people will argue that marching band, drum corps, even crash rehearsals for a musical exhibit that same single-mindedness, that same ruthless dedication. But I'm not talking about teamwork, or ruthless dedication, or professional focus. Those are all fine forms of stress, and they're necessary to create the best product.

Football is militaristic. Conformity is the rule. The coach runs a miltary dictatorship. All well and good, but it's obvious that some will fall through the cracks. It is THEN that the football establishment shows its ugly, vengeful, militaristic side.

For instance: Ricky Williams retired this summer. He decided, for now at least, that he doesn't want to put his adult body through any more abuse. Williams has carried 776 times in the last thirty-two regular season games, the highest number in the NFL. He runs hard, and he runs straight-ahead. His style invites contact, and it punishes defenders. It also punishes his body; his shoulders and knees are permanently damaged, like most feature backs' shoulders and knees. And by damaged, I mean it hurts every time they're moved, and any range of motion creates odd sounds, the sounds of junk in the machinery.

Williams has always been labelled a "free spirit," a euphemism with negative connotations in a militaristic regime like football or CIA work or the boardroom at Avera McKennan. He likes marijuana. His personal hero is Bob Marley, and he agrees with the peaceful and ameliorative uses of marijuana that Marley and his adherents propose(d). I think one of Williams' children is named Marley. The more interesting reason that Williams is a devotee of marijuana, though, is that it's the only substance he's found that eases the suffering in his punished joints. The pain goes away, and it doesn't cause him to throw up after every meal, as Paxil did (he was even a paid spokesman for Paxil).

The NFL tests its players for marijuana. Management claims that it must, if no other reason, than to comply with federal law, a ridiculous argument (but a time-tested argument of the police state crowd). Williams failed a couple of marijuana tests, resulting in a $650,000 fine, and had failed a third test this summer, although he claims, somewhat plausibly, that he didn't even try to mask his marijuana use before the last test, since he had decided by that time he would retire.

Think about it: NFL practices have resulted directly in death over the last three years (Korey Stringer). Marijuana has not yet been shown to have caused any overdose deaths in the history of mankind. It just isn't toxic enough to overdose on. Yes, it can cause long-term damage if you become a heavy user, like coffee or jelly beans or ham, but it can't effect death. Yet, the NFL and its pundit henchmen (all indignant former players who breathe very heavily when they talk about FOOTBALL) can't yell enough about Williams' "destructive behavior." It's weird. He has millions of dollars, and his knees still sort of work. I can't blame the guy for walking (literally) away.

It doesn't stop there, though. Robert Smith was a running back for the Minnesota Vikings who is, by all accounts, the antithesis of Ricky Williams: a fast, finesse runner who appeared to have no "hot-dogging" qualities whatsoever. Smith was famous for a dull flip of the ball to the official after one of his long touchdowns. And Smith, whose knees have proven just as human as everybody else's, retired after a very successful 2000 season at the age of 28. A student of military history, Smith recently released a book criticizing the regimented, de-humanizing atmosphere of pro football and also attacking the mindless celebrity and prestige that athletes enjoy. I remember Smith from his playing days subtly but pointedly criticizing then-Vikings on their public reliance on God to help them win games, and from that point he was my favorite player.

So here we have two wildly different incidents that both involve intelligent young men who quit running the ball in their prime, walking away from millions of dollars. One is roundly criticized for enjoying marijuana and giving up on the team, slacking, etc. He's a baby, and athletes are coddled nowadays--he doesn't know how good he's got it--that's what the sports pundits say about Ricky. You would think that a book criticizing that same adulation of pro athletes would be a welcome counterpoint to the Ricky Williams fiasco. But you would be wrong. Smith was roundly criticized as well. Ex-players complained that he unfairly sold out guys in his own locker room, he shows he wasn't a good teammate, if you can't handle the heat get out of the kitchen, etc.--that's what the sports pundits are saying about Robert Smith.

To me it appears to be cowardice. These two retirees have struck a nerve; not enough of a nerve to cause any policy change in a locker room or a league office, but they got the attention of the loudmouths in the booths, who rushed to shut them up or discredit them. It's cowardice, and not on the part of Williams and Smith. When you can't admit your own organization or profession is flawed, you are either a coward, or you have something to hide. Or, I guess you could just be dumb, which has never been a lacking quality of NFL locker rooms. At any rate, I find it interesting, and I root for the whistleblowers, the nonconformists. I root for them almost every time.

Just like the military's supermacho culture requires homosexuality to be mocked or eliminated, but never tolerated, the NFL and other men's team sports have a very large elephant in the room: gay players. Another ex-Viking, Esera Tuaolo, finally came out and acknowledged his homosexuality in late 2002. The double life nearly drove him to suicide (I can't help but think of the unknown subtexts behind the rash of military suicides the last couple years), and he appeared on "Inside The NFL" on HBO to discuss the issue. Cris Carter, a former Vikings teammate, was on the show as a commentator, and Tuaolo said to him something to the effect of: when I left the Vikings and the rumors were starting, the only two guys on the team that acknowledged my existence were you (Carter) and Robert Smith. It's stances like that, tolerance for a gay man, that get you punished by the NFL, or the Army top brass. At some point, the issue will change, and sports will catch up to other segments of the society. I don't know when it will happen, but there are dozens of gay men in MLB, the NFL, or the NBA desperately hoping they're not the first to find out.

Because we know what happens when you're the first. Specialist Joseph Darby blows the whistle on massive human rights abuses and torture at Abu Ghraib, and he lives under protective custody now. The underlings caught on film abusing prisoners got a victory parade in West Virginia. Seriously. A player can be hooked on alcohol (Brett Favre, George W. Bush) and it's fine. It might be a black mark, but it never stirs up a huge controversy, and under no circumstances does it affect your possibilities in the profession. But smoke marijuana and you're heavily and onerously penalized. You can beat up women, threaten to kill them, rape them, and screw around mercilessly on the one you're married to; that's fine. One fifth of NFL players have criminal records, an astonishing percentage. You can drive drunk--hell, you can kill another driver in a head-on collision, while drunk, and you can make the Pro Bowl two years later (Leonard Little). But we can't allow an openly gay man in the locker room; it would wreck our public image and destroy team morale.

It's almost enough to get me to kick my football habit. Almost.

I've never really had a military habit.

Here's the Wednesday griddle

This is from Mark Ames, a columnist at New York Press:

"This is America, not Denmark. In this country, tens of millions of people choose to watch FoxNews not simply because Americans are credulous idiots or at the behest of some right-wing corporate cabal, but because average Americans respect visciousness. They are attracted to visciousness for a lot of reasons."

"Millions of Americans, particularly white males, don't vote for what's in their so-called best interests. Thomas Frank recently attacked this riddle in his new book 'What's the Matter with Kansas?' but he fails to answer his own question. He can't, in fact, because it's a flawed premise. Frank, who is at his best when he's just vicious, still clings to the comfortable theory that Middle Americans are being duped by an evil corporate-political machine that subtly but masterfully manipulates the psychological levels of cultural backlash, implying that if average Americans were left to their own devices, they would somehow make entirely rational, enlightened choices and elect sensible New Deal Democrats every time.

The reason is simple. The underlying major premise of humanist-leftist ideology states that people are intrinsically sympathetic. If people are defiantly mean and craven, the humanist-left structure falters. 'Why the fuck should I bother fighting for Middle Americans,' they ask, 'if they're just as loathsome, in their own petty way, as their exploiters, with whom they actively collaborate?'

Rather than grapple with that dilemma, the left pretends it doesn't exist. This is why they will forever struggle to understand that one overriding mystery of why so many working- and middle-class white males vote against their best interests.

I CAN TELL YOU WHY. They do so out of spite.

This is why all the talk about 'personal interests' is a sham. Spite voters don't care solely about their own interests, nor are they bothered by how 'the left talks as if they know what everyone's best interests are,' an argument you hear from the whiney right. What bothers spiters is that the left REALLY DOES KNOW what's in their interests. If you're miserable, you don't want to be told what's best for you by someone who's correct- it's sort of like being occupied by a foreign army with good intentions. You'd rather fuck things up on your own, something you're quite good at, and bring others down with you.

If there were one perfect spite president, it was Richard Nixon. He looked mean, spoke mean, and stomped on the hippies who were having too many orgasms, the last real orgasms this country ever witnessed."

The entire article is a terrific read.

www.nypress.com (this article is from June 8, 2004)

Here's the Tuesday riddle

...for those of you that were wondering.

We'll be in tubes, going up and down. My eyes will be wide open, I know that.

The tubes will go down and down, farther than you think.

Reptiles and mammals and boys, oh my!

In the summer of 1990 I was at a Dell Rapids street dance, one of those Jaycee-funded operations where you would assume they spent all of their profit margin just picking up trash in the park and streets the next day. I remember, near the end of the night, seeing Shawn Jerke really pounding the hell out of somebody. And then these two officers arrive and throw Shawn to the ground; one of the officers has a rather tight hold on the back of Shawn's head and is shaking him pretty good. The guy who Shawn was pounding actually gets up and comes over to kick Shawn in the midsection WHILE THE OFFICER IS DETAINING HIM, so another officer scrambles over and slams this kid to the ground. By this point, it appears that the officer who is holding Shawn's head is actually slamming it into the pavement repeatedly.

It was a really ugly scene, and I remember watching it (and even recalling it today) with exquisite dispassion. The scene was so icky that my brain wanted no part of it. Shawn was a member of my class at Dell Rapids High School, and if I had examined the moment, maybe I would have been rooting for him against the other guy, or even against the abusive cops. But I wasn't. I just watched, dispassionate and fascinated.

I have that same feeling concerning the Swift Boat Veterans For Truth controversy. Now I know that in recent elections, I haven't had nearly the interest in media-watching and criticism that I have now. However, I remember the Willie Horton ads, I've heard about the little-girl-mushroom-cloud anti-Goldwater ads from 1964... These Swift Boat ads have to win some sort of award for blatant dishonesty! After a week of feckless "he-said, she-said" coverage, the nation's newspapers have all realized that there's not one whit of evidence to support the ads. And yet the ads appear to be working very well; Kerry, according to the recent polling, has taken a sizeable hit. People are doubting his Vietnam-era record.

I never have the telly on, but it's obvious that the telly is driving this controversy. Either the pundits don't know any better or they simply enjoy the coverage of mudslinging and political grappling, whatever its genesis. I suspect it's the latter, but a healthy dose of the former wouldn't surprise me, and a not-so-healthy dose of "I really like my second home in the Hamptons." Either way, the current argument appears to be, as best as I can distill it:

As of a month ago, a few dozen veterans who by utter coincidence have deep fundraising ties and business relationships with the Republican Party, we decided that actual military records were no longer accurate, at least not for one person, the Democratic candidate for President. We are directly challenging the eyewitness testimonies and accounts of Kerry's shipmates and the dude he saved out of the water, even though those accounts are consistent with the paperwork describing the medals Kerry received, and even though those accounts have not wavered for thirty-five years. Instead, we rely on the eyewitness testimonies and accounts of Republicans who weren't there.

It seems very strange that these attack ads are working. Right now it looks like a major battle victory for Rove and company; after all, the last comparison the President should want is a close look at his military service in relation to his opponent's. And yet Bush appears to be winning that battle.

Attack ads are used because they work. Psychologists and sociologists run experiments that continually show that mean-spirited verbal attacks are an effective way to gain influence. Maybe not a nice way, but a very effective way. Attack ads work because they hit all three of your brains, the freakish reptilian core, the emotional mammalian addition, and, of course the discerning neocortex. If I might quote scripture, though: "Of these three, the greatest is reptile." People don't want to admit it, but they love the attack. Limbs flying, dead babies, broken necks, whatever, they love it. It's generally not polite to confess that in public, which is a clear virtue of progress and civilization, but the reptile brain still holds sway.

I'm embracing the mud. I would now prefer a grossly negative campaign from both sides. I would like to see the Kerry camp make some sort of outrageous, vile accusation, and see how the media respond. Then Rove can cook up another recipe for disaster, and on and on we go! The dirtier the better, I say! Like algebra! Or home-made ice cream! Or home-made porn!

Sling it! SLING IT! SLING IT, TREBEK!

And just like that July night in 1990, I don't wish to participate in the slinging. I just want to watch, and take some notes. And when I go to bed around two in the morning ten blocks away, I can still faintly hear the band plowing through Aerosmith's "Dream On." And I can listen, not caring a bit. Exquisite.

Mr. Pipe

I was at an intersection, at 12th and Phillips, and I had the right-of-way as a pedestrian. The old guy with the ponytail was driving a beat-up white car from the late eighties. He looked over at me, and I waved him through first.

Because he had a pipe.

Dumbdumbdumbdumbdumbdumbdumbdumbdumb...

The recent foray into the heart of Najaf by the U. S. Marines is a silly, silly blunder. By any reasoning that transcends the complexity of the next testosterone rush, it's been a disaster. And even that string of "HOO-ahs" got tiresome, as, after 48 hours of continuous trench fighting, the Marines called in Army backup. Interestingly, when the Army was patrolling the town (until the beginning of this month, in fact, when the Marines took over), there was, comparatively speaking, little violence. Sure, there were incidents, roadside mortar attacks a couple of times a month, but since al-Sadr's militia had their April uprising, things had been sort of quiet. Still bad, but, believe it or not, a very quiet and peaceful bad, compared to NOW.

Remember, the April militia uprisings centered around another Marines folly: the siege of Fallujah. This just confuses me. I remember reading exactly why the Marines were being brought in: they have more auxiliary skills. The Marines do training in areas that would help in the embattled, war-torn cities in Iraq. They have more linguists, they do rebuilding, general efforts that the Army, being a more conventional fighting force, does in a much more limited manner. I thought this was a good idea. But the Marines have been total dicks in Iraq!

Wasn't that last sentence delightfully juvenile?

Here's the hardest part to figure out: the Marine commanders on the spot apparently decided, without Pentagon approval, to enter the city and provoke a confrontation with Muqtada al-Sadr and his men. This was according to a New York Times report from Najaf today. I have no idea whether this is true. As in the prison abuse revelations, I am skeptical that this situation is ripe for scapegoating: blame it on the Marines (or let the Marines take the "credit") and leave the wider policy decisions unexamined. At the same time, this group currently prosecuting this invasion is motivated by one thing: money. It's becoming clear that their pre-war planning consisted of opening up new streams of profit for their corporate cronies. And it's clear that military details can be overlooked heinously when money is so singularly the focus. So I don't know. Did the Marines go in alone? If so, what the hell were they thinking? Did someone up the ladder (deep down, my suspicion) order the move? If so, what the hell were they thinking?

The profit managers in Iraq appear to be very uncurious about the psyche of the Arab world. I don't mean religious fanatics, and I don't mean enraged teen boys being recruited to slaughter, because those traits are not limited to the Arab world. I mean the actual lay of the land, the people, the language, the customs, and the bare fact that... they're not American. They view Americans as invaders. We pretend to be utterly confused by the demands of clerics and ranters like Muqtada al-Sadr, but their demands are very clear: we don't want Americans running the country. The rest of the demands are details that follow, however inefficiently, from that.

Let's examine the U. S. military/political structure in Iraq and how it has approached the al-Sadr phenomenon. Sayyid Muqtada al-Sadr is part of a revered Shia family in Iraq, a family with notable roots extending back a full millenium. He was never seen as a likely revolutionary; until recently, he was regarded as a bit of a buffoon. Sincere, perhaps, but belligerent, and not someone the Iraqis would take seriously in mass numbers. He had a small following, a middling militia that mostly acted like the "gangs" we had at Dell Rapids High School ("Give it here! C'mon, Darrel! Give it!"), and he had a newspaper with a circulation smaller than the Yankton Press & Dakotan. What to do with a small-time wanna-be thug like this? SHINE THE SPOTLIGHT ON HIM! MAKE HIM A VICTIM! Paul Bremer shuts down his little paper. Now all Shia were watching daily sermons and solilioquies by al-Sadr, denouncing the common enemy, the occupiers. Everyday Iraqis who would normally never support or even pay much attention to such a man, were listening.

But the paranoid occupiers weren't done. The nascent Iraqi security forces, freshly trained, were immediately sent in to Fallujah in April, with the Marines, not to keep the peace, but to ATTACK FELLOW IRAQIS. Many defected, others fled, and the Marines laid siege to the town. Many died. Not the type of public relations coup that would sway Iraqis as they form their opinions of al-Sadr and the U. S.

Brilliantly, the U. S. appointed as prime minister a Baathist sophisticate with longstanding, violent ties to American and British intelligence operations. More or less a "new, improved Saddam," Iyad Allawi immediately suppressed dissent and started hounding the Shia, the mortal enemies of the Baathists for three generations. As the summer went on, it started to become increasingly clear (because the U. S. press finally started reporting what the world press had been reporting for weeks) that Iraq was becoming another Afghanistan: regional warlords controlled the outlying areas, Allawi was practically a glorified Baghdad mayor, and the reconstruction efforts were almost nothing more than a large-scale fraud. At this point, al-Sadr started making more noise, this time from Najaf.

This situation to me is analogous to the point in a basketball game where the other is ahead by 10 with two minutes left and you just start shooting three-pointer indiscriminately, and they clang off the rim, and once in a while one of them might swish, and then you hurriedly call time-out and rush over to the coach, pretending you still have a chance to win. Maybe the U. S. already knows it has lost, or will lose. Maybe it believes it can make seven zillion three-pointers in a row. I don't know. But someone, either the Marine commanders or John Negroponte (I know, he should be in jail) or someone at the Pentagon decided we should instigate another confrontation, to give the U. S. the excuse to "take al-Sadr OUT!" And so the Marines, on their third day of taking over the patrolling of Najaf from the Army, deliberately parked outside Sadr's house, violating an informal agreement. The militia responded by attacking the police station. Now the Marines, brought in to restore peace, blew their cover, and started doing what they're trained to do: kill other people. And they got bogged down, because as good as they are at killing other people, there's a LOT more other people in Najaf, and besides, it's 120 degrees in the shade. So we call on al-Sadr to surrender or we'll "teach him a lesson he'll never forget." Except it appears to be the U. S. that forgets the plainest of lessons. A delegation was sent from Baghdad to negotiate; they were turned away because they ARRIVED IN A U. S. BLACKHAWK HELICOPTER! What the hell are they thinking? And so, the standoff rages, and every minute the U. S. engages al-Sadr in Najaf, a town in his country, his legend grows, the occupation forces lose whatever little support they still have, and we edge closer and closer to a humiliating, humiliating defeat.

I suspect in the next couple of days we'll make a three-pointer from the corner, and we'll call time-out, and we can all pretend we're still in the game. It will probably magically coincide with the Republican National Convention. But don't be fooled. We'll never catch up. In fact, it might be time to pull our starters...

The great pick-the-cover-by-the-weekend-rehearsals contest, part one.

So, maybe we'll learn one of them covers this weekend. What should we learn? All comments are welcome, unless it's Debbie Gibson. It's not that we don't dig the hell out of her music, we just can't figure out the fancy chords...

Thanks to those of you that came to see Derek and the Hegg Brothers last Friday. We played the following covers, if I remember correctly:

Lull (Radiohead)
Where I End And You Begin (Radiohead)
Do U Lie? (Prince)
Don't Change Your Plans (Ben Folds Five)
Lost Cause (Beck)
If I Had A Boat (Lyle Lovett)
Couldn't Call It Unexpected No. 4 (Elvis Costello)
The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill (Beatles)

Maybe we'll keep one of those songs and play it once in a while. I don't know, this might be a weekend where we're in the mood to try a couple songs by other folks.

Today's tip from the worldWIDE web (say it with me)

Man, rule of thumb, never get in a fight with a guy named "Tree."

It's like when the refs always penalize the guy that punches BACK...

I have a prediction you can count on: at the Republican National Convention, right-wing operatives will incite violence in order to discredit the left-wing, anti-Bush/Cheney demonstrators in New York City. There will be violence and some mayhem (I guess I don't know how much; I don't think it will be like Chicago in 1968, but then again, the Republicans could really use a bounce in the polls). But the violence will have been started by right-wingers.

Oh, and another thing from the recent headlines: Porter Goss has been nominated to run the CIA. This is a rather alarming development, first because Goss is a rabid partisan. Secondly, Goss got his start in the Agency from George Bush's father, and did some pretty horrific things in Central America in the 1970s, into the very early 1980s. Pretty horrific things.

I think it's just showing off. The Bush Administration is basically saying, "Look at how powerful and intimidating we are. We nominated an obviously partisan right-wing thug who left a trail of bodies around the Tropic Of Cancer, and we're totally going to push the nomination through. We can do anything." I know, I know, they wouldn't win a fair election if it were held today, but don't you think they're working on a powerful and intimidating plan for that, too?

You know, I would probably do the same thing if I was in that position. Except I wouldn't hang out with people named "Porter." Maybe I would cross ideological lines and nominate TJ to be my intelligence chief.

Up is down

Yes, I notice that "right-wing pundit" Ann Coulter accused John Kerry of withholding his military records from the public. She suggested he should just release them, so people could make up their own minds. Rush Limbaugh said this on his radio show yesterday, too.

John Kerry's military records have been posted on his website for 120 days.

Coulter also expressed amazement that Kerry hasn't leveled with the American people by releasing his tax records.

This answer's a little different. His tax records for 1999-2003 have been posted on his website for 126 days.

Coulter went on to doubt the validity of refrigerated food, frowned at Kerry's use of "alleged" gravity as he walks, and accused him of being bipedal, "like an ape."

I made that last part up. But at least it's entertaining. Christ.

We are at war with Iraq. We have always been at war with Iraq.

It really is discouraging that John Kerry is fervently pro-war. Recently he has flummoxed supporters by announcing that, knowing what he knows today, he STILL would have voted for the bill giving the president authority to go to war. I know, I know, it was Bush who prosecuted the invasion and it was his advisers that have so hopelessly bungled and politicized the aftermath; but Kerry's counterattack appears to be that he simply is better at war.

Some pundits have been throwing the cliche around, "Failure is not an option." Well, as William Pfaff notes, failure is not an option because it is guaranteed. Our choices in Iraq have assured failure as the ONLY option. The question is, how big a failure will it be, and what will be the grave consequences?

So we have two major-party candidates, both bully for war. In the presidential election following one of the largest military blunders in American history, one would think that a more anti-war candidate might emerge. Or at least an anti-THIS-war candidate.

It appears that our leaders are committed to the suicidal idea of establishing a "foothold" in the Middle East. Our expensive support for the unpopular puppet Shah Pavlani in 1970's Iran led to a violent Islamic revolution in 1979, and poisoned the Carter presidency. The attempt to just slip some Marines into a permanent base in Lebanon was literally bombed to pieces in 1983, and we left the country with our tail between our legs. Our plan after the first Gulf War was to keep troops in friendly Saudi Arabia, and even that turned terribly sour, as it spawned the violent emergence of al-Qaeda as a worldwide threat. Now, we are in a completely unwinnable situation in Iraq. We have already lost. You can tell this by assessing the current options: if we surround Najaf and bomb the hell out of it, we lose. If we let Muqtada al-Sadr's militia forces establish a theocratic stronghold, we lose. Since we cleverly disbanded the Iraqi army last year, we lose when we try to recruit Iraqi forces (they tend to quit if asked to fight fellow Iraqis), and we lose when we take our own troops in instead (they are overstretched and in serious need of a morale boost). Amazingly, we, as the financial center of the world, have no bargaining power to entice other nations to help pay for any of this. The baldest, most transparent bribes don't even work any more.

We are constructing fourteen permanent bases in Iraq (other people say only nine of the bases will be permanent, but they also classify Camp Bondsteel in Kosovo as temporary, and that base is five years strong and shows no signs of going away). We have permanent installations in Qatar (our Middle East command is centered there now), Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates, Oman, and, of course, Kuwait. We have huge air bases in Turkey and Saudi Arabia that were useless in the Iraq invasion because those governments refused to let us use their airspace. We have built sprawling complexes in Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan. I tell you, our country is a military junkie. We're hooked on the stuff, and no one else is in a position to do an intervention, because we have too many tanks.

So, it'll be like that scene in Casino when Sharon Stone self-destructs. It will happen rather quickly and improbably, and then people will wonder why they didn't see it coming, and they'll wonder why they don't have any money. Perhaps the press will start to interview some new pro-war candidates at that point, men who can save us!

Don't worry if this post sounds pessimistic: it doesn't matter much what I think anyway. So let's end with a fun trivia question! It's a hypothetical: if the 943 U. S. troops that have been officially killed in Iraq were a South Dakota town, what town would be closest to their population? This is a hard one! Put your guesses in the comments...

Yeah, I'm up at 5:47 on a Sunday morning.

"Governor Stevenson, all thinking people are for you!"

"That's not enough! I need a majority!"

Fellas, I have a report from the Grandstand Oldies Night at the Iowa State Fair. Lou Christie emerged on stage, fresh and preening, wearing... the YELLOW. Raine had guessed pink, while I had maintained that YELLOW is Lou's color, at least when he's outside. I won the bet, and, predictably, I wished I had placed money on it. The highlight of the night was Lesley Gore singing "You Don't Own Me." I tell you what, people, the WOMEN have really seized on that song. They've really taken it for their own. But MEN, don't worry: we have "Beast Of Burden" and we have, if that's not topical enough for you, Bronko, "Stop Yelling At Me."

Jason, welcome. Your cheerful alcoholism can do much to heal the divisions that Bronko has caused, through his yelling and his yelling, merely guessing that his life was threatened.

Are you a witness for the fitness?

versions of sugarplums

I hope to god you people are ready.

I'd like to welcome Jason K. Smith, Hanoi's most dangerous poet, to Spooncatblog.

He created the term "Spooncat," as well as "Truck Drivin' Omar."

Friday the 13th

Be sure to come out and see us tomorrow at the Reardon Plaza in back of the Old Courthouse Museum. By "us" I mean my brothers and I, and secret special guest Derek, who will leap through a hog's head of real fire.

And tonight Henry The Horse is topping the bill!

The concert starts at noon. It will "end" at one o'clock, but everyone knows it will live on forever... in our hearts, thanks to the stunning advances of nanotechnology and little, itty-bitty, tiny robots, no bigger than a handful of molecules...

It might be sorta chilly, you know, fall weather, so maybe wear a light coat, like you would to a football game. Or wear shoulder pads. I can think of a few of you where a facemask wouldn't hurt, at least in public. Maybe we'll huddle up between songs. Hey Jason, go deep!

You're invited to bring a sack lunch, which you can then use to whack people who come up to you with false sack lunches, merely deceiving you.

That'll be one dollar and fifty-seven cents, please...

There is much discussion about the possiblity of replacing our national income tax (and, I guess, by extension, the IRS) with a national sales tax. Dennis Hastert, a white man from Illinois who runs the House Of Representatives, brought this up publicly.

There is no chance that this will ever happen.

First of all, it's silly to suggest the abolition of the IRS. Look, I don't like the IRS or the idea of an audit any more than you do, but a national tax needs a national agency to enforce compliance. The Bush Administration has relaxed enforcement greatly; audits are way down and corporate audits have been nearly eliminated. On a selfish note, I don't mind this, but it's sort of a drunk-uncle type thing. He lets you stay up until two o'clock watching dirty movies, and it's FUN, but you realize it isn't the best course, or the right thing to do. But it's FUN. Anyway, the IRS, or something like it, is here to stay. I sincerely hope people have as much enmity towards the gray-clad State Security troops that are starting to populate our nation as they currently have for the Internal Revenue Service.

OK, next, anybody that thinks the tax would be anything less than 50 percent on ALL SALES is a moron. It would be an awful blow to the already leveraged home market, as a $150,000 home would immediately cost $225,000. You see, an income tax, unfair and inconvenient as it may be, doesn't tax you for money you may not ever have. A sales tax does, unless you're one of seventeen people in the nation that are debt-free. Some sales-tax advocates have argued that the rate could be as low as 23%. They are completely nuts, are consciously deceiving you by a factor of at least two. We would have to eliminate the entire budget for the military and paved roads to make that work. Hey, again, I think there's some deep philosophical merit there, but in the real world we live in, no citizen is signing up for that plan.

Our tax burden is currently sort of high, but the real kicker is health insurance. When the two are added together, THAT percentage of our income is higher than the percentage that Western European nations pay in taxes (where, of course, health care costs, well, whatever your taxes are). Faced with this information, it's lunacy to suggest that the answer would involve making our already regressive tax system even more burdensome and unfair. Brilliant.

He's the Hastert-est!!!

Anyway, seriously, if any one can show me an actual system, with numbers, that indicates we wouldn't need at least a fifty percent sales tax to make the switch, I'll gladly broadcast the error of my ways. Here's a hint: 23% means, for instance, that it's twenty three cents ADDED to the dollar (like $1.23 for a $1 purchase), not twenty-three cents per TOTAL DOLLAR SPENT (which would, of course, involve a 30% sales tax rate). I know, I know, you know this already, but the economist cited by one of Hastert's aides didn't. Just sayin'.

I'm older now.

Yeah, I'm older today. Get used to it.

In honor of me, and all of the strange things I've done as a human, I want all of you readers, in the comments section, to relive the best thing I've done in the last year. Or at least make it an interesting story. You are invited to embellish details if you HAVE to, but all the Christians know TRUTH IS STRANGER THAN FICTION.

Truth is stranger than friction. Friction is frickin' boring. Sticks to the ground every time!

I've had a lot to drink tonight.

According to a press release by the Liquor Retailers of America (or something like that, I can't remember their official name), liquor sales are up 38% during this current presidential term. Thirty-eight! That explains Poppadox. It wasn't us. So, and I mean this, thanks George!

Four more years! Oh, I'm sorry, I was just typing something online; I'll have a Rusty Nail and a Michelob Ultra for the lady. Chad, you want anything?

Important announcement!

"We're raising the Threat Level today because computer files from 2000 show al Qaeda interested in some important office buildings.

Also, we're raising the Threat Level today because we've learned from deciphering radio intercepts that Hitler's U-boats are patrolling the eastern seaboard.

And, we're raising the Threat Level today because 18th century diplomatic correspondence recently discovered at an Antiques Roadshow indicates the British Admiralty has been getting reports on New England ports and harbors.

Not only that, but we're raising the Threat Level today because examination of archived records in Madrid show that Ferdinand and Isabella have designs on the entire Western Hemisphere."

*-from Uggabugga, a political blog.

A good word for conversation...

I think "imbroglio" is a terrific word to fit into a conversation. Try it in the comments section.

Fried Rice

So, in keeping with my practice of responding to a Bush Administration terror announcement by assuming THE EXACT OPPOSITE IS TRUE, I've been keeping a wary eye on the recent threat level warnings in eastern cities. Howard Dean spoke suspiciously, if guardedly, about the new warnings, and was roundly excoriated for it in the national media. Over the weekend, though (of course!), much information emerged that appeared to completely vindicate Dean, and, by extension, me. And while I'm happy to retain my streak, I can't say that these new developments constitute "good news."

First of all, within a matter of days after the curious warnings from Tom Ridge, the fact that the active intelligence used to raise the threat level was PRE 9/11 INTELLIGENCE. None of it was newer than Alicia Keys, for Chrissakes! Secretary Ridge tried to downplay this uncomfortable reality by adding, "We have updated information from this year." There were a couple problems with this, too:

1) It turns out "this year" meant January, which doesn't explain why, if the threat was so grave, why not announce it in January. Or February. OR THE NEXT FIVE MONTHS.

2) It has now been reported that the new information was simply a Pakistani detainee confirming that the old information was on the computer. Again, it's hard to justify the rise in threat level.

But the bombshell hit over the weekend. It turns out that, in its eagerness to prove that the threat level had SOME merit or justification, the Bush Administration slipped big-time. In background interviews, senior officials revealed the name of Muhammed Naeem Noor Khan, an Al Qaeda operative who was arrested in mid-July by the Pakistanis. This desperate move was clearly intended to show that some recent progress had been made in the battle with Al Qaeda. However, Khan had apparently infiltrated Al Qaeda as a double agent, having been "flipped" by the Pakistanis after his arrest, or perhaps even before. When his name was leaked, there was an immediate drop in worldwide electronic intercepts from Al Qaeda operatives. Now they know. And we know they know. The real kicker is, Condoleeza Rice apparently didn't know in the first place. In Sunday interviews on the talk shows, she claimed ignorance on the issue of Khan being a deep mole. So now they know we didn't know before they did. This becomes a problem because the raids being undertaken to arrest suspects (acting on the newest intelligence from double agent Khan) had to be rushed, resulting in more dangerous, daytime missions, and even some cancelled raids. The British are furious, because they were in the process of covertly tracking thirteen Al Qaeda operatives, and they've had to change all their methods with the leak of Khan's name. The Pakistani foreign minister claimed that Khan had a direct line to the capture of Osama bin Laden, and that the outing of his status has wrecked that mission. Hyperbole? Probably. But people are mad. To attempt to acquire some small short-term political capital, the White House blew the cover off of a mission that was yielding spectacular results in arresting and confronting Al Qaeda operatives. And, when questioned about it, Condi Rice simply says she didn't know.

I have a hard time believing that Rice is this incompetent. There have to be other factors at work. On almost every important point during this presidency, her response has been to claim ignorance: the 9/11 attacks, the lack of Iraqi WMDs, the veracity of Richard Clarke's assertions, the status of negotiations with North Korea, and now the outing of double agent Khan. I don't know. I'm not aware. No one ever told me. I can't recall. I have a hard time believing that she is that inept. For one thing, she is a good piano player, and I don't like thinking that good piano players can be dumb or incompetent goofs or something. There have to be other factors at work. But what?

Maybe I'll provide some entertaining guesswork in a later post!

A quick summary of posts on this blog, as of August 9

This is the 123rd post on this blog, the Spooncatblog! In reminiscing about the one-hundred-or-so days this blog has been in existence, I've decided to break the posts down into basic (and totally arbitrary) categories:

Politics 34, Gigs 24, other Spooncat! news 22, "other" 14, People 7, Grammar/words I don't like 3, The Limewire Tournament 3, Live posts from Gord-o's party 3, Tests of the blog on the first couple days to see if it worked 3, Cinco de Mayo 2, The Big Lebowski 2, Peanut Butter 2, Favorite Scars 1, Pants 1, and CHUNKY TROMPHS 1.

This post isn't included in the summary, because, I mean, come on, where does it end? Where does it fucking end?

Those damn Hegg brothers...

Yes, yes, I'm back from Denver. Here's a quick invitation to anybody who's inclined: There will be a concert at noon this coming Friday, August 13. The concert is on the back plaza of the Old Courthouse Museum at 6th and Main in downtown Sioux Falls. You may bring a sack lunch, or buy one there. Or just bring a sack.

The concert is called "The Hegg Brothers Presents..." and what we're really presenting is Derek and his Fancy Hands.

The current plan is to do a few originals, but also covers by Beck, the Beatles, Prince, Elvis Costello, Radiohead, and Ben Folds. Maybe we'll have a cowbell.

The concert will be an hour long, but it will seem like 46 minutes.

some things to plan for:

friday, september 17 we are opening this year's deadwood jam (see link).

jonny lang, the commodores, the bodeans, and beau soleil are among the many acts.

the premier black hills music festival.

FROM THE MAKERS OF CHUNKY TROMPHS

SCHMAGMA SCHNAUPPS!!!
TRY THE NEW SCHMAGMA SCHNAUPPS!!!
SCHMAGMA SCHNAUPPS WITH THE GOOEY WHITE CENTER!!!
SCMAGMA SCHNAUPPS!!!
ASK FOR THEM BY NAME, SCHMAGMA SCHNAUPPS!!!

Things are startin' to come together, boys...

I did all my lead vocals for "Tao Babies" last week. Tonight DSSTM is adding a few bass parts, and in the next few days he should finish up the bass stuff. Next week we add a dash of saxophone, and then we take a day and finish up background vocals. In a month we'll be done, after the string section gets back into the country.

Things are startin' to come together, boys...

My current favorite track (it's so hard to pick, but...): Self Portrait. It just spills out into my ears.

Are you a Star Crunch Doubter?

To that manager in the entryway of the Office Max -

- who was heatedly asking somebody through his trendy headset/lavalier combo, "Tell me, so how does a whole stack of Office Max storage containers just suddenly disappear?"

Um, it doesn't. As matter, it must necessarily remain. The storage containers could change form, depending on chemical reactions, external stress, etc., but they certainly haven't disappeared, and won't ever.

So that ought to help.

Couldn't call it unexpected...

Hey, Captain's right: It was ELVIS COSTELLO who said that quote, not Frank Zappa. That's my fault. I read it somewhere, and it was misattributed. Probably the Associated Press!

Well, here's a fresh Zappa quote for you: "Remember there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over."

Or this: "I'll do the stupid thing first and then you shy people follow..."

Or: "Speed: it will turn you into your parents."

Who can forget: "Et tu, Brute?"

And then there's Zappa's statesmanlike side: "Yesterday, December 7, 1941 - a date which will live on in infamy - the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan."

"Writing about music is like dancing about architecture." -Frank Zappa

Jeebus, sorry I haven't been posting much lately. I thought of some excuses:

1) I'm teething.
2) I've been prescribed the same medication as our President (more on that in the last paragraph).
3) You're teething
4) I've been obsessing over the Doug Mientkiewicz trade.
5) I'm in one of those rare "home-improvement" phases, and I didn't have the computer plugged in for a couple days.
6) I got so wrapped up in all my new biker memorabilia.

It's actually number three, um, why I haven't been posting much. Okay, it's five. The Good Reverend Snip painted a couple rooms over the weekend while I stripped white paint off of some doors. The doors aren't quite stripped yet; they look a little like they were artillery-bombed by occupation forces. But, I tell you what, I'll take old stressed mahogany-ish wooden doors over white-paint doors anyday! In fact, I'll take anything that makes my apartment darker, up to and including that day in April when I came back from out of state to find I had no power (I had forgotten to pay the bill for something like 200 days). One easy way to spot a bachelor is to find out what sort of things qualify as "home-improvement." If "paying the energy bill" and "doing the dishes" are on the list, I would think it would be hard to make a comeback after that. Love-fifteen, pretty much.

That's a tennis reference, Captain.

So I read a story from a major paper that ACTUALLY QUOTES THE WHITE HOUSE PSYCHIATRIST. You know, the guy who was played by Adam Arkin on the TV show. Now I'm jaded enough to presume that many world leaders are heavily medicated in ways old and new; for instance, some of the refreshing diplomatic candor that came out of 1990's Russia was simply the result of Boris Yeltsin being so inebriated that he'd tell the truth. Really.

But the article I read about President Bush was a bit alarming. I mean, I'm no fan of the guy, and I've read several stories speculating on syndromes like dry-drunk or manic depression or whatever, but still, I don't want anybody to be mentally ruined by their job unless they play for the Green Bay Packers. And it appears that President Bush is going sort of nuts, or at least that stress has taken a rather amazing toll. I guess he was put on something rather drastic about three weeks ago, when Ken Lay was indicted. Bush slumped out of a room full of reporters after being asked a question about his relationship with Ken Lay. According to the story, he told a staffer something like "Keep those motherfuckers away from me! If you can't, I'll find someone who can!" This incident evidently capped several weeks of increasingly erratic behavior by Bush, so they put him on some stuff. So I wonder what he's taking. I don't even know all the fancy names. Ritalin? No-Doz? Robitussin? Black Flag? Black Betty? Oxycontin? Lipton?