Executive Experience

Enough with family values and small town values and pigs with lipstick. Until Sarah Palin answers actual questions about her positions and philosophies,
her record is all there is to go on; let’s look at it.

Two terms as mayor of a town with less than 10,000 inhabitants
Twenty months as governor of a 47th most populous state, with a budget that ranks 38th in the nation.

It has been pointed out she has more executive experience than both Democratic nominees combined. No argument. Let’s examine the relevance of that argument.

Wasilla, Alaska, has, by the best figures I could find, 9,780 inhabitants. Lower Burrell, Pennsylvania—my home town—has 12,159, so it can reasonably be argued that I have a similar small town upbringing. Gov. Palin and I are both college graduates; she graduated from the University of Idaho (current enrollment 11,636); my alma mater is Indiana University of Pennsylvania, with a current enrollment of approximately14,000. Granted, it’s been quite a whole since either of us was a student, but the rough comparison still holds. Our demographic backgrounds are not so dissimilar to prevent either of us from sharing basic small-town sensibilities.

Gov. Palin bases much of her qualification derived from small town values, which she seems to think are universal. Lower Burrell and Wasilla are similar in size, but there do appear to be some differences in values. The most recent available figures for registered sex offenders shows Wasilla with one per every 133 residents; Lower Burrell has one per every 4,110. For comparison purposes, Washington DC has 1,030 residents for every registered sex offender. If you drop something on a Wasilla street, leave it there.

The most recent data I could find—2002, during then-Mayor Palin’s tenure—shows 68 city employees in Wasilla. The Senate Foreign Relations Committee, under the chairmanship of Joe Biden, has approximately 280 staff members. Granted, Biden has people to actually make sure things get done. So does the mayor. (Alaska has approximately 15,000 state employees.) Mayor is considered to be a part-time job in Wasilla, which can reasonably be argued diminishes the intensity of the executive experience.

Her mayoral experience is a straw man; no one would argue Don Kinosz’s experience as Mayor of Lower Burrell qualifies him to run the world’s leading democracy in turbulent times. Governor of Alaska is more relevant experience. Aside from this sentence, we will leave aside Karl Rove’s August assertion that, should Obama select Virginia governor Tim Kaine as his running mate, it would prove Obama’s willingness to place politics ahead of country, due to Kaine’s lack of experience as Virginia governor, though he has governed a state with over eleven times the population of Governor Palin and a budget over three-and-a-half times that of Alaska’s, for only forty-one fewer days.

One point jumps out from the above comparison. Virginia has eleven times the people, yet spends less than four times as much to run the state. Given that Alaska has great expanses of empty land that make many economies of scale impractical, it’s still costing three times as much per capita to run Alaska than it does to keep Virginia operational. Alaska ranks second in the nation in federal aid, and has the third highest unemployment rate. It passes out subsidies of $3200 per eligible citizen from its oil revenues. How this fits with the conservative mantra of less government remains to be seen.

A reasonable person could argue she’s only been in office twenty months. Hardly time for her policies to take effect. True, but Republicans can’t logically have it both ways. (Not that they don’t try.) If her twenty months of experience is enough to qualify her to hold the missile codes, then it’s enough to measure her performance.

This is where the essential disconnect occurs in the “executive experience” argument; the term “successful executive experience” would carry much more water. No president has ever had more executive experience than George W. Bush did when elected in 2000. Little of it could be called successful up to that point, so it should not be a surprise to see his executive decisions afterward lead to several calamities. Gubernatorial experience is no indicator of a successful presidency. Reagan and Clinton were governors; so was Jimmy Carter.

A senator’s lack of “executive experience” is also hardly a disqualifier. Senators have rarely been elected in the past sixty years. The two who were, Truman and Kennedy, did all right. Lyndon Johnson was a senator when elected vice-president. His presidency is generally considered to be a failure because of Vietnam, but Johnson is woefully shortchanged when it comes to passing out credit for civil rights advances in the Sixties.

Then there’s Eisenhower, the most recent war hero to become president. As impressive as his military resume was, it was his diplomatic skills that got him the job of Supreme Allied Commander, and it was those skills that allowed him to hold together the world’s greatest and most fractious alliance. Eisenhower’s executive experience was earned under fire, literally.

Governors have no equivalent experience; their most important decisions are managerial. Education, infrastructure, budgets. All important; none are life and death. Comparing a governor’s executive experience to what’s needed to be president is like comparing a football coach to a general.

Sarah Palin’s executive experience in Alaska is inconsequential when compared the world experience of the Democratic ticket. Asking her to step in on a moment’s notice to run what is probably the world’s most important nation would be like bringing a pitcher out of the minor leagues to pitch the seventh game of the World Series. The rookie might do all right, but no one’s going to bet their house payment on it.

(Figures cited above were obtained from the web sites of the institutions, US Census data, and www.city-data.com )

Oh, Puh-leese

Barack Obama is taking a lot of heat for allegedly referring to Sarah Palin when he made a comment about "putting lipstick on a pig" yesterday. It seems like a stretch, since he, and other politicians—mostly Republicans—have used the phrase many times in other circumstances. If the Republicans really want to take umbrage at a sexist remark, here are the

TOP FIVE THINGS BARACK OBAMA COULD HAVE SAID INSTEAD OF "PUTTING LIPSTICK ON A PIG."
5. Put some rouge on that ho.
4. Put some eyeliner on that bitch.
3. Put some mascara on that skank.
2. Put some exfoliating cleanser on that skirt.
1. Put some trollop-ey makeup on that cunt.

Sorry. I got carried away. John McCain already used that last one when referring to his own wife. Wouldn't want the Republicans to whine about plagiarism.

Marketing Savvy

Times are tough for American automakers. While some of the blame can laid at the feet of the economy and unions who haven’t figured out the Fifties are over, management must carry the greatest burden. Short-sighted negations with the unions, and a refusal to anticipate a need for anything smaller than SUVs and trucks have led the Big Three into dire financial straits.

Their public relations and marketing don’t kick any ass, either.

Here’s an actual example, ripped from the headlines. No one will argue that GM should have to tolerate what is essentially employee fraud. To come down on employees for too liberally interpreting the employee discount within a week of making GM employee discounts available to everyone is surreal, especially considering GM—along with Ford and Chrysler—is likely to come to the federal government, hats in hand, to ask for some kind of public assistance. This kind of thing will not generate a sympathetic hearing.

Never mind about NAFTA; maybe it’s time for more of the American auto industry to be placed into the hands of people who actually know how to run a car company at a profit, while still paying American workers decent wages and benefits. Honda and Toyota come to mind.

Taking the Pledge

Remember the controversy over whether the Pledge of Allegiance should have the words "under God" in it? It was a big deal a few years ago, conservatives launching daily tirades because losing those two words would corrupt the values the Pledge was supposed to uphold. Turns out they were worried about the wrong two words. Events of the past several years have made it clear "under God" doesn't matter much one way or the other in the grand scheme of what we pledge allegiance to; the only words in the Pledge are the two that are most often forgotten today.

For all.

Mighty Like a Whale

John McCain’s acceptance speech last night once again showed the Republicans’ bizarre concepts of consistency. Last night McCain said this about workers whose jobs moved overseas:

For workers in industries that have been hard hit, we'll help make up part of the difference in wages between their old job and a temporary, lower paid one while they receive retraining that will help them find secure new employment at a decent wage.

This sounds suspiciously like the party of less government—who wants to keeps government’s filthy hands out of your pockets—coming up with another unnecessary government program. Wouldn’t it be better, and cheaper, to make it advantageous for companies to keep jobs with a “decent wage” here in the first place, and penalize those who ship those jobs overseas? Not to seem like a Neanderthal on the topic of globalization, but isn’t it in our national interest to keep at least some good, working class jobs here?

This is not just a socio-economic issue; national security is also at stake. The recent spike in oil prices produced a swell of comments about the possible consequences to globalization if transportation prices made it unfeasible to continue to transport raw materials and finished goods overseas. A war could do the same, depending on its location and scope. It is in this country’s national security interest to keep many of these jobs handy, lest we have crucial goods and services made unavailable at a time when they may be needed most.

The ultimate irony—as pointed out by Joe Klein in Time magazine online—is that John McCain has become the “standard-bearer of a failed ideology — ironically, a belief in 'me first' before country.” McCain leverages his history of personal service and sacrifice in the name of a party whose idea of “service” is to support the troops in Iraq by shopping, and thinks of “sacrifice” as not playing golf. It demeans him, and it’s sad, to hear promises of tax cuts draw greater cheers than mentions of country.

Make no mistake: Republicans are definitely the party of “me first.” Democrats are not immune to the charge, but “Republican” has become virtually synonymous with “conservative,” and Twenty-first Century conservatives are interested in conserving little aside from what’s theirs already. John McCain deserves better, as do the rest of us.

Believe Half of What You Read and None of What You Hear

Twenty-four hour cable “news” has evolved into little more than a rotating series of “experts” discussing the same two or three stories all day. And all night. And all day tomorrow, unless something more interesting comes up. Like a crotch shot of Britney Spears getting out of her car to go to family court. Or O.J. Simpson shoplifting a Ka-Bar knife.

Since there aren’t enough plausibly impartial experts to go around, political insiders have to be brought in for their “analysis.” It’s understood these folks are drinking the Kool-Aid, but since they’re being “interviewed” by “journalists” such as Chris Matthews, Keith Olbermann, Bill O’Reilly, and Sean Hannity, there is at least a perception these “insiders” might actually have an opinion to offer, instead of parroting their respective philosophy’s talking points. Why else have them on, if not to provide a little insight to voters hoping to make a reasonably informed decision? (As the more astute among you may have noted, the high volume of quotation marks in this piece indicate my “high” opinion of the process.)

Alas, this is not true. (Your sense of disappointment is palpable, as is mine.) Check out the transcript of what two high-ranking Republican strategists had to say at the Republican convention when they thought the mikes were off. MSNBC knows what Peggy Noonan and Mike Murphy really think, yet it provides them with a forum to pass off Republican misdirection as “insight.” This is even more despicable than Noonan and Murphy lying to the audience. MSNBC knows they’re doing it, and still provides the forum.

I try not to pay any attention to Internet rumors until I can see them verified by at least one “respectable,” traditional source. There’s too much crap on the blogsphere to take much of it seriously. Even I can write what I want and pass it off as fact, and those of you who have read this blog since it started know what a semi-informed asshole I can be. MSNBC is the offspring of a respected news organization that brought us Chet Huntley, David Brinkley, John Chancellor, Tim Russert, and many others. To see it so willfully complicit in such deception casts doubt on the entire operation’s journalistic credentials.

Not that I’m excusing Fox. They just never had any journalistic credentials to begin with.

(To see the vidoe and a longer transcript, click here.)

Palin Comparison

When questioned about my short, yet undistinguished military career, I readily admit that I spent three years in an Army band at Ft. McPherson, GA during the height of the Cold War. During that time not a single Soviet military musical unit penetrated as far as Savannah. I’m damn proud of that, and claim at least as much credit as Sarah Palin deserves for protecting us from the imminent invasion across the Bering Strait.

* * *

It’s only a matter of time before YouTube has a video titled, “Governator: The Sarah Palin Chronicles.” We already have pictures of her with weapons.

* * *

I agree with the Republicans: families should be off-limits. That includes the entire family. Don’t whine about the media hounding the pregnant daughter, then hold up the son who’s on his way to Iraq. Either neither can be used as a reflection on their mother’s character, or both. No cherry picking. (Thanks to a caller into NPR for pointing this out.)

* * *

All this talk about McCain’s courage is true. By choosing Palin as his running mate, he’s given die-hard conservatives and one-issue “we want a woman” voters a reason not to want him to complete his term. The man must have them like grapefruit.

A Question for Our Readers

The following is from today’s “White House Watch” blog on washingtonpost.com:

Mark Memmott and Jill Lawrence blog for USA Today that 64 percent of those surveyed in the latest USA Today/Gallup say they are "very" or "somewhat concerned" that McCain "would pursue policies that are too similar to what George W. Bush has pursued."

This strongly implies that at least 64 percent of Americans harbor reservations about George Bush’s policies, or they would not be “very” or “somewhat concerned” whether McCain would continue them. If this sizeable majority were pleased with Bush policies, the word phrase would have been “Very or somewhat enthusiastic,” or “very or somewhat hopeful.”

So, given that a preponderance of the American people believe George Bush’s policies are something to be avoided, and are “concerned” McCain would continue these policies, why are the election poll numbers so close?

If anyone has an reasonable explanation for this other than racism, I’d love to hear it.

Sarah Palin's Family...

…will not be discussed here, now or in the future. Opinions Governor Palin has that will affect other Americans are fair game.

One question comes to mind: will conservatives now feel the need to un-demonize pregnant, unwed, teens like they un-demonized drug addicts when Rush Limbaugh turned out to be one?

Due Credit

This blog has been sharply critical of both Hillary and Bill Clinton during the primaries, and justifiably so. That being said, they both came up huge this week, stepping up for Obama with every indication of genuine enthusiasm, putting the greater good above their personal disappointments, and both deserve even more praise.

Maturity Watch

I thought the voting age was eighteen.

Allegedly thousands of Hillary Clinton supporters are still threatening to cut off their noses to spite their faces and not vote for Barack Obama in November’s election. Women who six months ago described themselves as part of Hillary’s cadre of political realists, dismissing Obama’s candidacy as pie in the sky, are now whining about party favoritism (though Clinton supporters played a large role in originally denying representation to the Florida and Michigan delegations), sexism (though Hillary herself was happy to play the victim for much of the campaign, and Geraldine Ferraro et al didn’t mind dropping a racial reminder or three), or whatever else they can think of to “prove” their candidate got jobbed.

As a free service, The Home Office is happy to say what Hillary Clinton would probably like to say and Barack Obama can’t say:

Grow the fuck up. If you’d shown ten percent of the passion for caucuses you’ve shown for whining, Hillary Clinton would be the nominee. You want to point fingers, look in a mirror.

The Beijing Olymics are Over

NBC can take its tongue out of China's ass now.

Hypocrisy Watch

This just in via Paul Krugman's blog, forwarding Glenn Greenwald's commentary.

The gist of Krugman's comment is that Republicans are hypocrites for using Kerry's rich wife against him while attacking Democrats for bringing up McCain's rich wife. I realize Krugman is a Princeton economist, but he's missing the point.

McCain believes you're not rich until you make $5 million a year; using current Republican standards, you're not a gigolo unless your rich, younger wife is worth more than $500 million. Teresa Heinz checked in at about $700 million; Cindy McCain has to get by on $100 million. It's that simple.

Damn ivory tower academics.

Better to Remain Silent and..

Composer Peter Breiner is upset that the Beijing Olympics are allegedly using his orchestrations of national anthems without obtaining the rights from him. Have you heard the version of the "Star-Spangled Banner" they're using? I have, several tmes, and I don't think I'd be drawing attention to myself over it.

Two Faces of a Candidate

Let's start with the disclaimer: I voted for John McCain in 2000. Twice. I crossed over and voted in the Virginia Republican primary, then wrote him in for the general election. I read his biography and loved it. I'm too cynical to get into hero worship, but he was as close as anyone, right up there with Chuck Yeager and John Glenn. It pains me to oppose his candidacy as strongly as I have come to, but the man whose honor I once considered unquestionable isn't running in 2008.

I would gladly pay $1,000 to the charity of the moderator's choice if someone had the nerve to ask him, politely, to describe why the treatment he received in North Vietnam was torture, when the exact same acts performed by the CIA against terrorists is not.

For a well reasoned and concise comparison, click here.

One Bite at a Time

The Home Office is pleased to announce the launch of a new blog, One Bite at a Time. I'll still be here with the usual cast of correspondents and public miscreants, ranting into the ether about whatever hair has wriggled up my butt on a given day. One Bite at a Time will be devoted to writing-relating postings: ruminations, trying things out, working out how best to proceed, and, hopefully, sharing some ideas that have worked for me with other writers. Some of you who read this blog will care more than others.

(If you care at all, which should not be assumed. I occasionally rant about why anyone should care about what [fill in the celebrity/pundit/public figure of your choice] thinks about anything. Why you should care about what an employee of a small contracting company currently working at [government agency redacted] says is a question I wrestle with regularly. Of course, I eventually come down on the side of blathering onward. Get over it.)

I hope anyone who writes, enjoys writing, or has an interest in writers stops by One Bite at a Time for a visit. Leave a comment. Argue. Tell me I'm full of crap. Even better, tell me something don't know.

Coffee Break's Over, Back on My Head

Wow. That was fun.

The Sole Heir and I got back from our third Home Office Western Tour late Saturday night. This is Wednesday, and I have enough of my life put back together to start writing again.

The trip was a success by any measure. A three-day drive to Colorado (the Crazy Like Me Correspondent flew ahead) to visit the Sibling Correspondent and his family at The Home Office West. Relaxing in the pool and hot tub—he has his own little resort there, clean towels and everything; you just have to make your own bed—cooking out, seeing the mountains, getting corny Western-style sepia-tone pictures taken, letting the stress and East Coast Overload fall from us like snow off of a roof on the first warm day of spring.

Craze flew home on Sunday and the Sole Heir and I drove northwest, into Wyoming. The next five days were a fantasy vacation: Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks, then driving along the Yellowstone River through Montana. (The Yellowstone is the most beautiful little river you'll ever see, which is saying something, since we saw the Wind River, too.) Little Bighorn Battlefield was much more moving than we anticipated, and the Story Pines Inn was a beautiful little gem the GPS needed a dirt road to get to. Devils Tower, Deadwood and Lead (motorcycle week at nearby Sturgis; bummer). Surrounded by burros and buffalo at Custer SD State Park. The Badlands. A drive-by of the Spam Museum. (Honest to God. We were too early to go in. We got pictures.) Wisconsin frozen custard at The Dells and Italian beefs at Portillo's. Miniature golf on the course where I taught her to play when she was three. (She routinely kicks my ass now.) Glen's frozen custard in Cheswick PA, where I learned to love it. An hour with the Ancestral Correspondents. Then home.

The statistics: 5,186.2 miles driven through fourteen states. Perfect weather, except for about twenty minutes driving through Indiana, when it rained so hard I couldn't see a hundred feet and The Sole Heir kept giggling about how she quit driving just in time. We saw prairie dogs, gophers, a golden eagle (up close), two bald eagles in flight, grizzly bears and wolves (albeit in a preserve), deer and antelope (just hanging out, not playing), the aforementioned rowdy burros, and well over five hundred buffalo, a couple as close as ten feet away. We saw hot springs and mountains covered with snow in August, which might not mean much to a Sherpa but is unheard of in Maryland. We stayed in three towns with combined populations of less than 2500, and ate a meal in the Two Bit Saloon.

And now we're back. The bills will trickle in, and they'll actually be fun to pay, because every one is a memory. By Monday afternoon I wasn't stiff anymore. Back at work two days now, still mellow, a little confused as to why everyone else thinks some of these things are so important.

Ready to go again.

A Brief Hiatus

The Home Office is suspending regular operations for two weeks to make a fact-finding journey with the Sole Heir to the home of the Sibling Correspondent in Colorado, aka The Home Office West. Craze will meet us there, arriving by air a day ahead of us, as we drive through Maryland, West Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, and Kansas.

The trip home will consist of a minor detour through Wyoming (Shoshone National Forest, Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks), Montana (Yellowstone River, Little Big Horn), Wyoming again (Devil's Tower), South Dakota (Deadwood, possibly Mount Rushmore, the Badlands), before heading back through Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois (again), Indiana (again), Ohio (again), Pennsylvania (again), and home to Maryland (finally).

So enjoy the time off. I'll be back, fingers well rested, with a new blog to add to The Home Office's expanding media empire. Rupert Murdoch quakes as you read this.

Giving Credit Where It's Due

I don’t know why President Bush is getting so much flak over his comments about the current financial situation. Let’s face it, as much as he’s been abused in this blog, I’ll give props where they’re due: If there’s anything about which he has detailed knowledge, it’s getting drunk and hangovers.

An American Nuremberg?

This is from Dan Froomkin’s “White House Watch” column on Washingtonpost.com:

Charlie Savage writes in the New York Times: "Felons are asking President Bush for pardons and commutations at historic levels as he nears his final months in office, a time when many other presidents have granted a flurry of clemency requests."

But my ears really pricked up when Savage raised this question: "Will Mr. Bush grant pre-emptive pardons to officials involved in controversial counterterrorism programs?

"Such a pardon would reduce the risk that a future administration might undertake a criminal investigation of operatives or policy makers involved in programs that administration lawyers have said were legal but that critics say violated laws regarding torture and surveillance.

"Some legal analysts said Mr. Bush might be reluctant to issue such pardons because they could be construed as an implicit admission of guilt. But several members of the conservative legal community in Washington said in interviews that they hoped Mr. Bush would issue such pardons -- whether or not anyone made a specific request for one. They said people who carried out the president's orders should not be exposed even to the risk of an investigation and expensive legal bills.

"'The president should pre-empt any long-term investigations,' said Victoria Toensing, who was a Justice Department counterterrorism official in the Reagan administration. 'If we don't protect these people who are proceeding in good faith, no one will ever take chances.'"

Overuse has rendered the four-letter N word unusable for referring to anyone but Hitler, but doesn’t Toensing’s argument sound a lot like pardoning people for “only following orders?” Haven’t we heard that somewhere before?

No, I Didn't Make This Up

Maybe he's a better candidate for the Darwin Awards than an academic enrichment camp.

HAGERSTOWN, Md. (AP) -- A 10-year-old boy attending an academic enrichment camp at Hagerstown Community College was injured when he stuck a paper clip into a live electrical socket.

State police say the student at the College for Kids program was flown to Children's National Medical Center in Washington, D.C. on Thursday with burned hands.

College spokeswoman Beth Stull says the boy's action during a computer class was independent of what he was doing in class.

Stull says officials would look into the incident. She says officials discussed the incident with other students and a letter is being sent home to parents.

250

This is my 250th blog post, submitted as proof there is way too much shit on the Internet.

Proud to be an American

Cindy McCain took Michelle Obama to task a couple of weeks ago over Ms. Obama's now-infamous comment, "for the first time in my adult lifetime, I am really proud of my country." Ms. McCain, it turns out, "always [has] been and will always be extremely proud of my country." Today must have been a particularly heart-bursting day for Cindy, as the following events were reported:

The new FISA bill passed, with immunity to telecommunications companies for the warrantless searches they performed on George W. Bush's and Alberto Gonzalez's say-so. Not only have new frontiers in warrantless surveillance been opened, there is no recourse for anyone who had their phones or emails illegally captured. Not that it mattered. In a classically Bushian Catch-22, previous suits were denied because no one could prove they'd been harmed; the personal communications illegally obtained are classified, and not available to the plaintiff. Democrats rolled over for what presidential candidate Barack Obama called a compromise; it was, if you consider it a compromise to re-position yourself so your new prison friend, Bubba the Shower Freak, doesn't have to lean over too much.

In other news, we learned the office of Vice President Dick "Prince of Darkness" Cheney excised several pages from the Congressional testimony of Centers for Disease Control Director Julie Gerberding that indicated the CDC considers climate change a serious public health concern. This, in turn, affected EPA policy that depended on the CDC's conclusions. Even that wasn't enough; the White House refused to open the email that contained the finding that would have required the EPA to take action, apparently using the principle, "If we didn't read it, it didn’t happen." This is not unlike a child plugging his ears and chanting, "lalalalalalalalalalala" when Mom tells him it's time for a bath. (The shunned email was actually reported last week, but it relevant to this story, and we should all be damned proud of it, too.)

It's not just politicians we can be proud of. The workers' paradise of Communist China raised wages to almost a buck an hour last year, and made it harder for employers to cheat people out of it. American companies doing business in China warned them against such rash actions; the American Chamber of Commerce in Shanghai straight-out opposed them. Now much of that business has moved to Vietnam, where the Communist government knows how to treat business, primarily by refusing to coddle its workers like those touchy-feely Chinese. Vietnam was chosen over Thailand, where wages are similar, because "Communism means more stability." As the Washington Post's Harold Meyerson points out, we have 58,000 names on a wall downtown, each one representing someone who died to keep Vietnam from becoming Communist. Our failure made their sacrifices no less significant. Only a bottom-line mentality at all costs can do that.

The presidential campaign promises to keep us bursting with pride, no matter who wins. Barack Obama and John McCain brought their kneepads with them to yesterday's separate appearances before the League of United Latin American Citizens. It was like a limbo contest for groveling: how low can you go? Obama won, mainly because he had too big a lead from his previous statement that, while immigrants should learn to speak English, we should learn to speak Spanish. He went on to say we should all learn to speak several languages; that's what the campaign will point out. It's disingenuous; his intended audience stopped listening after "make sure your child can speak Spanish."

There is a lot of good in this country. The blind fealty to the divine rights and infallibility of Americans that began with the Reagan Administration does those good things no honor through its avoidance of admitting anything less than noble. Anyone who can look you in the eye and claim to be unreservedly proud of everything done in the United States, or in its name, has a curious definition of "pride," and is someone on whom you should never turn your back.

A Brief Obituary

A woman to whom I was once married—not the Sole Heir’s mother—once thought living in North Carolina would be splendid. Beaches, beautiful mountains, nice weather, fully-realized but not-too-urban cities, not as pricey as the Washington area. A good deal all around, she thought.

“I wouldn’t live there if they paid me,” I said.

She asked why.

“Because over half the people who live there keep sending Jesse Helms to the Senate.”

And that encompasses my thoughts on his passing.

Timing Is Everything

The Home Office has been hard on the federal government over the past few years. In the interests of fair play, it's time to point out one thing the Feds got right: Monday holidays.

I used to make fun of the official federal holidays, especially the ones they made up just so they always fall on a Monday: Martin Luther King Day, Presidents' Day, (the moving of) Memorial Day and Columbus Day. (Labor Day was always on a Monday, so it didn't count.) "Let the holiday be on the day it commemorates," I used to think. "January 15, May 31, October 12, whatever."

This year my favorite federal holiday, Independence Day, fell on a Friday and showed me the error of my ways. "A three-day weekend is a three-day weekend," I used to think. "It doesn't matter whether the short work week falls before or after the holiday."

Dumb ass.

Mondays are much better. It was nice to have last Friday off, plopped into my schedule much like the rain that fell off and on throughout the day. Saturday was Saturday, and the Sunday routine stayed the same. Translated: back to work tomorrow.

If the holiday fell on Monday, the weekend would go on as usual, except when I got ready for bed on Sunday night, there would be no need to set the alarm; a bonus extension of the weekend was at hand. Sweet. Even better, the upcoming workweek was only four days. With the Friday holiday, we're staring at coming right back into a regular week. (True, last week was short, but that was last week; what have you done for me lately?)

So here's a big thank you to Congress for promoting the idea of Monday holidays. Yes, it was quite a few Congresses ago, and the current Congress has done little to recommend itself to anyone other than narcoleptics. Still, it's only fair to show appreciation where it's due. Granted, Monday holidays don’t quite tip the scales when balanced against the Iraq war, torture, the erosion of civil liberties, no energy policy, an unfair tax structure, faulty levees, and the failure to provide any meaningful oversight to banks and lenders that prompted the current economic downturn, but that's me: Mr. Glass Is Half Full, the eternal optimist.

Hell Hath No Fury

It's rare to write about two perspectives of an issue and be right both times. It's happened here exactly once in three years. (That's a much better record than Robert Novak, who hasn't been right about even one side of an issue in fifty years.) Still, it's kind of fun.

Word got out a couple of years ago that Christie Brinkley was getting divorced for the fourth time. (That's as many as I have, squared.) Considering she's Christie Brinkley, I figured it must be her; any man worth being called one would fight like a rabid wolverine with a toothache to keep that deal alive.

Word came out a couple of weeks later that it was, in fact, her husband who lit the fuse, by sleeping with a nineteen-year-old coworker. Christie received the apology she was due; The Home Office is nothing if not even handed, especially to world-acknowledged Fabulous Babes.

Now we find out Christie has demanded a fully public divorce trial to air all the dirty laundry. The affair, hubby's $3,000 a month internet porn habit, everything. Maybe she deserves a more blame than we thought for all those divorces. There are kids involved here. This guy's already been humiliated worse than Larry Craig, at least in the eyes of men: he burned an unlimited season's pass to Christie Land. (This essay is living proof; I can't bring myself to type his name.) There's nothing worse she can do to him without exposing a lot of dirty undergarments adolescent boys don't need to have traced back to their own family.

Talk about a woman scorned; if she really wanted to hurt the guy, make the judge order him to look at albums of her pictures once a week. Remind him there was a time when he could exercise his Christie Brinkley fantasies and not have to worry about getting the pages stuck together. If she wants to publicly humiliate him, write a book when the kids are out of college, after he thinks it's blown over. Vengeance is a dish best served cold, and, unlike broccoli, kids can do without it.

Breaking the Code

Yesterday the head honcho at [government agency redacted] where I'm currently under contract released the typical political appointee message for a national holiday. It ended with the obligatory paean to the military:

And I also hope you’ll remember all the men and women who have sacrificed in so many different ways to build our nation, especially including those who have given or risked their lives in the armed services.

Nice, but unremarkable. Why did it irritate me so much yesterday? We've heard these on every remotely applicable occasion, since September 11, 2001. What was different this time?

I've broken the code.

Asking people to remember those who serve in the uniformed services always leaves out one part: so I don't have to. Veterans never say shit like that. Their phrasing is more to the point. None of this And I hope you'll remember… Could it be any more mealy mouthed? If it wouldn't be too much trouble? If you think of it? Don’t put yourself out, but…

Too many people praise the military now as sops to their own nascent consciences about who serves and who doesn't. Let's call a spade a spade. Just once I'd like to see someone come clean and send out one of these:

And I want to praise all those brave men and women who allow our government to place them in harm's way so I –or my kid—can pursue an MBA (or play college sports or get likkered up on weekends or work the commodities markets). Thank God we'll always have people like that. It's hard enough making the decision to send them without having to worry about going ourselves.

One last thing. Today, of all days, take a look at the paraphrase on the masthead above. The next time you're debating someone about FISA and warrants and torture and freedom, remember Benjamin Franklin said all we really need to know about the topic two hundred plus years ago: "Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety."

Happy Independence Day, and many more, for as long as we deserve them.

And They Say There's Justice

I’m depressed. Marian Hossa has left town.

For those who are not devoted puckheads, Hossa is a world-class right winger. (Hockey player, dumb ass. Grover Norquist or Karl Rove could leave town in a pine box and I’d dance like the best man at a Greek wedding.) Picked up late last season by Pittsburgh’s Penguins, he has gone to join the team that beat them in the Stanley Cup finals, the Detroit Red Wings.

It was always at least even money Hossa would leave after the season, but Detroit? He got within one game of carving his name in the cup with Pittsburgh last month; I guess seeing the Wings skate around with it made him think he could get it done there next year. Here’s a news flash: you could have got it done in Pittsburgh next year, Marian, and you wouldn’t have to live in Detroit.

The salaries were about the same, except Pittsburgh’s was for five years, and Detroit’s for just one. Taking a one-year deal with Detroit is easy to understand; pledging to spend more than one year of your life in Detroit is crazy talk, $7 million a year, or not. I’m sure Pittsburgh would have offered him a shorter deal; they thought they were doing the chump a favor.

Hossa came to the Burgh with the reputation of disappearing during the playoffs. The Pens worked with him, put him on Sidney Crosby’s line, did everything but put Kolache on his pillow at night, to help him overcome his history as a choker, and it worked. What thanks did we get? He blew town like hovno through a husa.

This is how Detroit operates; it’s a parasite. Called itself the “Arsenal of Democracy” during World War II, because it manufactured tanks and trucks and planes. Manufacturing jobs on an assembly line. Tighten this rivet. Balance a tire. Line up an engine mount. Like building one of those particle board desks you can buy at Target.

It was harder? They used steel, you say? Where did the steel come from? It came from a smaller city with broader shoulders, where brave men slaked the thirst of ravenous molds with white-hot rivers of molten steel. Detroit built its reputation on the backs of Pittsburgh’s labor. It got Grosse Pointe and Greenfield Village; we got pollution. And how do they repay us? Taking Marian Hossa.

Bastards.

Family Feud

It’s probably inevitable for the candidates’ families to get more air time this presidential cycle than ever before. Twenty-four hour cable news needs material to chew up round the clock, preferably something that doesn’t require any investigation or nuanced thought. Off the cuff comments by wives, politically peripheral to the campaign, are now fair game, if only because we’re down to two candidates and Barack Obama and John McCain have to sleep sometime.

Michelle Obama took her lumps in February’s run-up to the Wisconsin primary, after saying, “For the first time in my adult lifetime, I'm really proud of my country.” That’s not exactly what she meant, it was timed and phrased badly, and she was promptly taken to task for three reasons: she deserved it (she should be more aware of her comments if she’s going to be First Lady, which she is); talk show hosts need things to talk about (see above), and conservatives still can’t understand that Barack Obama can’t have a wacky Christian minister and be a Muslim. Someone in that family has to be less than an upstanding American; that day it was Michelle.

This week Cindy “The Only Person With a Face Stiffer Than Mine is Joan Rivers” McCain stepped in. Appearing on ABC’s Good Morning America, she had a chance to take a shot and did, saying, ”Everyone has their own experience. I don’t know why she said what she said — all that I know is I’ve always been proud of my country.”

Mrs. McCain apparently believes in taking everything a public figure says literally, which must lead to some entertaining moments parsing her husband’s comments at the end of a busy day. Since The Home Office believes in allowing everyone to set their own standards of evaluation, let’s see if Mrs. McCain’s statement holds water.

Is she proud of slavery? Jim Crow? (Better than slavery, but still…) How about our treatment of the Indians? Closer to home, what about veterans? (No one should have been surprised by the Walter Reed disclosures. The lowest moment of Bob Dole’s distinguished career of public service came when he turned into Claude Rains, shocked—shocked!—over the conditions at veterans hospitals. I could have told him that twenty-five years ago.) Is she proud of McCarthyism? Torture? How about spiriting people away so others can do our torture for us, allowing us to claim we have clean hands?

America is no worse than any other country when the sum totals are weighed together, and better than many. Everyone—nations, individuals, you, and certainly me—does things in the heat of the moment, when blood is up and dangers may seem greater than they really are. We understand it, make amends as best we can, and move on. For her to say she’s always proud of this country is one of three things: disingenuous; indicative of a disturbing lack of real world knowledge; or allowing us a glimpse at the more sinister aspects of her character, where all of the above are okay with her.

What Tim Russert and Francisco Franco Have in Common

I liked Tim Russert, heard him go back and forth with Don Imus on numerous occasions. He was unfailingly good-natured, informative, and gave every impression of being, as one obituary described him, “the happy warrior.”

But still…

The media coverage of his unfortunate and unexpected death last week is what we might expect if the Pope, Queen Elizabeth, the Dali Lama, and Tiger Woods were killed by Osama bin Laden using a knife made from the bones of decapitated Christian virgins, anointed with the blood of aborted fetuses and handed to him by Satan personally.

Russert was well known, well liked, and highly respected in his field. It was proper for the NBC family to set aside a segment on each of their news shows for him; no one would find fault with making Sunday’s Meet the Press into a sympathetic retrospective. In fact, NBC dedicated virtually every news show to him; coverage of the US Open golf tournament showed Russert’s visage at every station break. MSNBC committed just about every show, throughout the weekend. Other news outlets, while not as extensive as Russert’s peers at NBC, were also exhaustive in their coverage.

Tim Russert, for all his fine qualities, was never the news. He was one of many who told us about the news. He was one of the best, and had been for a long time, but he was but the lens through which important events were displayed. For the media to invest this much energy in one of their own is a disturbing insight into how they view themselves. Acting as guardians of the First Amendment isn’t enough; the media have become the story, distorting the relative importance of events through their observation.

How might things have been different if this much energy had been expended verifying the Bush Administration’s claims for going to war in Iraq? Or any number of its other policies in the aftermath of 9/11? Too controversial, most likely. Sentiment is safer.

A Special Comment

And now, as threatened—er, I mean as promised—a Special Comment.

There was a time when this reporter had only two “must see” television shows: Seinfeld and the Sunday Night SportsCenter, with Dan Patrick and Keith Olbermann. Olbermann left, and immediately disappeared onto the maw that was early MSNBC, only to re-appear when he caught on to George W. Bush’s sleight of hand faster than most.

While it must be admitted that many of Mr. Olbermann’s Special Comments are spot on, no one can view his delivery of these comments for long before becoming repulsed by the false and inappropriate histrionics used in their delivery.

[Turn to face other camera.]

Not content to let the words speak for themselves, your manner of speaking approaches a level of scenery chewing associated with watching William Shatner perform King Lear. Your voice trembles, your head shakes with indignation, though only moments before you concluded a segment with the words, “Today’s worst person in the worrrrrld!” after poking fun at whoever earned your daily wrath.

Those who find themselves in your crosshairs richly deserve it. It is the exaggerated venom and ire of the Special Comments that we take issue with. You may say it is entertainment, and you clearly relish your self-appointed role as the Bill O’Reilly of the Left. Yet it is you, sir, who usurp the gravitas of your betters by appropriating Huntley and Brinkley’s theme music, and Edward R. Murrow’s sign-off.

[Rustle prop pages and return to Camera One.]

Last Friday you took Hillary Clinton to task for juxtaposing comments about her will to remain a presidential candidate with the assassination of Robert Kennedy. A crude and tasteless statement, to say the least. Yet you, sir, devoted virtually seventy-five percent of your broadcast to this matter, then another [add tremor to voice] one thousand, nine hundred and nine words of personal commentary.

[Turn to other camera while spittle is removed from lens of Camera One.]

These additional words shed no light. They added little to our understanding of the matter. They served only to show your audience the depth of your self-indulgence and self-importance, running past your broadcast time into the next program because you—you, sir!­—had to ensure your loyal viewers knew how you, the only voice who felt the injury to its deserved extent, felt.

One thousand, nine hundred and nine words devoted to a fifteen second comment that may or may not have discussed the hypothetical death of a single human being. One thousand nine hundred and nine words. Yet Abraham Lincoln, a man you profess to admire at every opportunity, Abraham Lincoln required only two hundred seventy-eight words to pay eternal and sincere homage to the fifty-one thousand casualties at Gettysburg. We have no videotape of Mr. Lincoln’s address, yet we may be safe to assume it did not include the melodramatics you so regularly append to your comments like decals on a car window.

One thousand, nine hundred and nine words. The Declaration of Independence consists of but thirteen hundred and twenty-two, with no visual aids. John Kennedy’s inaugural address that inspired a generation is thirteen hundred sixty-six. Yet you needed one thousand, nine hundred and nine words to ensure that everyone watching you on Friday, May 23, 2008, one thousand, eight hundred and forty-nine days since the announcement of “Mission Accomplished,” knew the sincerity of your emotions.

[Shuffle prop papers and make obvious effort to compose yourself.]

Sincerity and depth of emotion are not measured by the number of words or accompanying theatrics, sir. Well chosen words, plainly spoken, contain all the meaning and sub-text necessary if their subject is suitably horrendous; if it is not, no quantity of vocal tremolos, or catches in the voice, will do so. Do not listen to me; view the tapes of your spiritual master, Edward R. Murrow. One will do. Watch him ask Senator Joseph McCarthy if he has no shame. Murrow did not play to the camera, nor to the baser tastes of some who were watching. He spoke truth, the unvarnished truth, sir, which has always been, and will always be, adequate to express any emotion. This is why Murrow will be remembered long after you have faded from the memory of even those who study such matters.

Good night [throw prop papers from desk with disgust] and good luck.

Enough

Hillary Clinton has become an embarrassment to her party and to this nation. Not to herself; she is well beyond anything that relates to shame.

Yesterday’s comment in South Dakota to justify remaining in a race she cannot win probed a new low, even for her. Her lack of an apology has shown she is less interested in the welfare of her party, or this nation, than she is in getting she wants. Her only possible reason to remain in the race is because she’s Hillary Clinton, and she’s entitled.

She’ll make every effort to become the victim again. The misogyny cries have been loud the past few weeks, even though no responsible voice has uttered any such comments. The usual suspects—crackpot, rednecks, Fox News anchors—made the usual sophomoric arguments; no one who might have voted for her listened to them, anyway. Playing the victim is an unorthodox way of petitioning for a position of leadership; some might consider such a tactic unworthy.

It wasn’t working, so she raised the stakes to martyrdom: she’s staying in case something happens to Obama. What might happen to him? Lots of things; since she brought up assassination, she may consider one of the possibilities to be some hard-working, white American busting a cap in his uppity black ass. Has it never occurred to her that some of her less enlightened supporters—in, let’s say, West Virginia or Kentucky, where she currently bases her claim to be “America’s Candidate”—may consider such comments akin to King Henry II’s comment to his nobles regarding Thomas à Becket: “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?”

As if this wasn’t bad enough, her “apology” shows more about her than the original gaffe. When Mike Huckabee made a tasteless Obama assassination joke last week, his apology was immediate, and contained the sentence, “I apologize that my comments were offensive.” Not “might have been construed as offensive,” or, “some may have taken offense.” Were offensive. Period.

Compare that to Hillary’s apology: “I regret that if my referencing that moment of trauma…was in any way offensive…”

If? If? What meets her definition of “offensive,” if that does not? While not as callous as George W. Bush’s numerous statements on the Iraq War or Hurricane Katrina, it certainly meets any sapient human standard of giving offense. The lack of even that scintilla of self-awareness alone disqualifies her as a worthy candidate. I can’t wait to see how her supporters try to justify her as vice presidential material now. “She’s the best qualified person to take over when—oops, I mean if—someone clips him?”

Enough is enough. No more of the Clinton camp demanding forgiveness because she’s allegedly being held to a higher standard than Obama. The Obama campaign bent over backward to be gracious when questioned afterward. What would her campaign’s response have been if the roles were reversed? Can you picture Terry “The Prince of Darkness” McAuliffe shrugging it off?

In the words of an old Willie Nelson song, “I’ve forgiven everything that forgiveness will allow.” The sniper fire in Tuzla. Signing a pledge to say Michigan and Florida wouldn’t count, until you needed them to, and your later statements that declared these people had been unfairly disenfranchised, comparing it to women’s suffrage, the abolition of slavery, and the civil rights movement, while still claiming caucus states do not count for as much. Placing images of Osama bin Laden in an anti-Obama ad. The 3:00 AM phone call ad. Kissing up to Fox News and Richard Mellon Scaife. Exploiting William Ayres on the ABC debate. Whining about always getting the first question.

Go away. You are little better than a Rovian Republican in liberal garb. The break this country needs from the politics of Bush-Clinton-Bush demands better than you.

They're Serious About This

Maybe the reason I’m not a published author is a lack of imagination. I worry constantly about how much—and for how long—the audience is willing to suspend disbelief; maybe I should talk with House Minority Leader John Boehner (R-OH). He seems to think people are willing to forget things that actually happened.

Last week Boehner unveiled the new Republican “strategy.” Faced with public’s slow but insistent realization that Republicans have presided over an ill-conceived and mismanaged war, a failing economy, unprecedented separation between rich and poor, a policy of actions we’d call war crimes if anyone else did them, and an erosion of Constitutional rights more extreme than the McCarthy era, Boehner knows they can’t run on their record. So he’s going for marketing. To use a Madison Avenue term, they’re changing the brand. The Republicans are now pushing themselves as “The Change They Deserve.”

To quote Budweiser: Dude. You’re the guys we want a change from. House Republicans are so steadfastly against changing anything “accomplished” during their tenure, they voted against mothers, as a stalling tactic. Their regular whining about how Democrats haven’t implemented their promised changes have the sincerity of the Menendez brother asking for mercy because they’re orphans. For Republicans to realize now they’ve spent ten years going down the wrong road is like pulling the emergency brake after the car has gone over the cliff.

Republicans claim to be the party of Bible-reading, God-fearing Americans. It looks more every day like voters may be ready to administer some Biblical lessons on that whole “reaping what you sow” thing. One can only hope.

250 Days and Counting

The Literary Correspondent recently sent in an informative piece showing the relative “greenness” of George W. Bush’s Crawford ranch and Al “I invented Climate Change” Gore’s home in Tennessee, which has a carbon footprint the size of Texas as viewed through a microscope. The data checked out on Truth or Fiction, though the Crazy Like Me Correspondent insists I point out Gore uses his home as an office for his organization, which is why it’s so large and energy-intensive, and that he buys carbon offsets to minimize the effect. Okay, maybe, but still, where’s the wind farm and solar panels, Mr. Green Jeans?

Under other circumstances I would have re-circulated that, showing I can poke fun at blues and reds alike. Not for Dubya. My distaste for him transcends political disagreement. Not only do I detest him as a person, I loathe the elements of the American psyche he has so successfully appealed to, and what it says about us as a nation. His cynical invocations of patriotism have debased the concept to the point where someone who used to sincerely tear up when The Star-Spangled Banner was played before a ball game now rises only to avoid embarrassing the Sole Heir.

This is no exaggeration. If anything, he has received a pass, as occasional bouts of Outrage Overload force me to recharge my batteries. This week I’m in the mood to call him for what he is, with his own words as evidence. Not malapropisms; not misstatements. The real deal.

When asked about the current oil situation, and his thoughts on conservation, here are his own thoughts, from an interview with CBS Radio: "Bush also said that, while he was a 'big supporter' of energy conservation, he would not issue a specific appeal to the public to ease up on driving and not use as much fuel. 'I think they can figure out how to do that,' he told CBS. 'I mean, the market has a way of convincing people to drive less, depending on their ability to afford.'"

This, from the alleged president of all the American people. His partners and peers can afford gas at ten dollars a gallon; what about the guy who needs to fill up his ten-year-old car to make a fifty-mile daily round trip to his job that pays only enough to qualify him as one of the “working poor?” He can’t move closer to work; he can’t afford to live there. He can manage gas to get to work, or bread for his family; not both, and his president tells him, in essence, to eat cake.

Recently Bush was asked about sacrifice in time of war; were any Americans aside from the troops and their families sharing the costs of his war? Specifically, had he made any personal sacrifices? Here’s his response to Mike Allen of Politico:

Allen: "Mr. President, you haven't been golfing in recent years. Is that related to Iraq?"

Bush: "Yes, it really is. I don't want some mom whose son may have recently died to see the commander-in-chief playing golf. I feel I owe it to the families to be as -- to be in solidarity as best as I can with them. And I think playing golf during a war just sends the wrong signal.

Above all, he is a coward. Not just for his avoidance of the same military service he now claims to envy those dying in Iraq and Afghanistan. He speaks before only hand-picked audiences, afraid to face even the possibility of dissent. Sent his wife to brief the press on the Burmese cyclone, knowing they wouldn’t ask her to draw too fine a comparison with New Orleans. He lacks even the fortitude to admit to human frailty. By never admitting to a mistake, he is a parody of the Christian piety he claims to embrace.

Jeremiah Wright had the right church, but the wrong pew. If God is to damn anyone, then God damn George W. Bush. It is beyond the capability of anyone with a shred of conscience to dream of attributing such thoughts to someone else, let alone to sincerely claim them as his own. This man has no decency, no conscience, no humanity. He is as vile a caricature of a human being as has disgraced the public stage in my memory. We cannot be rid of him soon enough.

No One's Wrong All the Time

Not even me. Frequent Commenter Runs With Scissors rarely agrees with me, though his comments are always appreciated. He chimed into The Home Office's most recent post with a link in his comment that deserves more recognition than a comment.

George F. Will is someone with whom I rarely agree, even less often as time goes on. Still, once or twice a year he hits one out of the park, such as this essay on Jewish World Review. Not only is he dead on, he evokes a rare nostalgic moment for me, as my first fully realized memory is of listening to Bill Mazeroski hit the home run that won the 1960 World Series for Pittsburgh.

Thanks to Runs With Scissors for reading, commenting, and pointing out this excellent morsel.

Differing Perspectives

My friend, and Clinton supporter, Sean has posted a passionate inventory of his feelings about the events in North Carolina and Indiana last night on his blog. My comments are below:

Running the risk of seeming ungracious (since my candidate is now ensconced as the presumptive nominee), it’s a shame Clinton supporters can't resist sour grapes even when conceding defeat. Much as Bill's impeachment debacle played out, none of what did Hillary in was her fault. It was a conspiracy involving the media, addled voters wearing rose-tinted glasses, and a Rube Goldberg nominating process.

Let's start with "people buying into hope." Here's a brief quiz: Who said this: "Now, one of Clinton's laws of politics is this. If one candidate is trying to scare you and the other one is try get you to think, if one candidate is appealing to your fears and the other one is appealing to your hopes, you better vote for the person who wants you to think and hope." Give up? Bill Clinton, during the 2004 campaign. Obama keeps coming back to the hope theme: Hillary runs ads of sleeping children who will be unsafe of she isn't elected.
Then there's the "media's notion of inevitability." First, she didn’t mind any it six months ago when everyone with a press card presumed she would win. As for lately, it's not the media's notion of inevitability: it's a mathematical notion of inevitability. Even before last night, she couldn't catch up if she matched her best previous performance in every remaining primary. Dropping out isn't defeatist; it's a simple matter of reading the handwriting on the wall.

As for the "tragically flawed nominating process," she had no objections to it until she realized she couldn't win within its rules. There's a good reason for that: Clinton supporters probably played as much of a role as anyone in writing those rules.

What did Hillary Clinton in was a poorly run campaign that assumed this was a coronation, not a campaign. She changed messages and personas as often as Dubya changed reasons for going to war in Iraq in the winter of 2003. It finally caught up to her when enough people decided she was a triangulating chameleon who would say whatever she thought was necessary to sway whoever was standing in front of her when she opened her mouth. In the northeast or a college town? Wonk time. Moving south? Drop those Gs and knock down a few boilermakers in the back of a pickup truck.

Hillary Clinton would have made a fine president, but she would have been more of the same of what got us into the current state of affairs. It's time for something different. Maybe it will be better; maybe not. It sure as hell can't get much worse.

James Lee Burke

Every time I read something by James Lee Burke I tell myself, “You really need to read more James Lee Burke.” This year I’m finally getting around to it, and it’s made my reading time richer and more rewarding. I just finished PEGASUS DESCENDING after reading CADILLAC JUKEBOX in March and JOLIE BLON’S BOUNCE in December. I don’t like him more each time anymore; he’s who I come back to when I want to be reminded why I love to read.

His characters walk in off the cane break as fully-formed people, with lives beyond the glimpse we catch through the window Burke provides. He uses the Cajun, Creole, and Confederate background of New Iberia Parish like Rembrandt choosing a precise color from a palette of his own creation. The names are eccentric to a northern ear; PEGASUS DESCENDING includes Cesaire Darbonne, Koko Hebert, Monarch Little, and my personal favorite, Bellerophon Lujan. Maybe those who don’t live along the Bayou Teche don’t think twice about them, but they set the tone and atmosphere better than five pages of description.

Which, come to think of it, Burke also does as well, or better, than anyone. It’s fashionable today to skip non-essential description in the interest of moving the story forward. Nothing wrong with that; the quicker pace fits better with contemporary readers’ expectation and attention spans. Burke’s descriptions come from another, more leisurely time, before television and movies denied us the privilege of drawing our own mental pictures. The astute reader quickly forgives the lessened pace, thanks to descriptions of such beauty you don’t want him to cut to the chase. An example from PEGASUS DESCENDING:

The transformation that took place in Whitey’s face was like none I had ever seen in another person. The eyes didn’t blink or narrow; the color in them did not brighten with anger or haze over with hidden thoughts. The jawbone never pulsed against the cheek. Instead, his expression seemed to take on the emotionless solidity of carved wood, with eyes as dull and cavernous as buckshot. I believe I could have scratched a match alight on his face and he wouldn’t have blinked.

The same counter-contemporary tendency is shown in Burke’s scenes of violence. It’s not that he lingers over them for prurient or gratuitous purpose; he lets them unfold, like watching in slow-motion. The suspense builds as he ramps up the tension a sentence at a time, holding back the climax like a classical composer’s delayed cadence, so when the release comes it’s quick and you have to wait for your blood pressure to return to normal before going on to the next page. The pressure is never completely released; enough always remains to sow the seeds of the next crescendo.

It takes a singular talent to be able to fight the tendencies of modern culture and win as Burke routinely does, and what I say may read like the pabulum of hero worship. Those who are unfamiliar with his work should try him, then draw their conclusions. Those already acquainted with Dave Robicheaux and Clete Purcel are already wondering which one they should read next.

The Long Goodbye

I’m late to the party, as usual, but I can’t resist getting in on the City of Chicago’s program that encouraged all Chicagoans to read Raymond Chandler’s The Long Goodbye as part of a city-wide discussion. The Outfit has covered this in detail, and better than I’m likely to do here, but that never stopped me before.

It had been several years since I read The Long Goodbye, though I have always thought it was the most beautifully written of Chandler’s works, and I read Chandler for the writing. A lot of other reading competes for my attention, and it’s sometimes difficult to choose to reread something when the pile of books never read threatens the safety of anyone who disturbs it. I took the attention focused on TLG as an excuse to give it another look. What I found was unexpected.

Maybe it was all the commentary I’d already read; maybe I’ve grown as a reader. (Probably the former.) This was different book than I remembered; in particular, a different Marlowe. No longer the knight errant, fighting battles he can’t win in the hope that enough good will be accomplished to make his draw—or narrow defeat—palatable. This Marlowe has seen too much, lost too much, and been alone too much. What had been sardonic comments are now cynical. This Marlowe is a man well down the road to bitterness, who no longer expects things to work out in any appreciable manner. He plays out the string because his code demands it, not for any expectation of accomplishing anything. He views all others in shades of dark grey; he can’t help them, and, since they probably don’t deserve it, he’s not going to overextend himself. Even his walk into Mendy Menendez’s trap at the end is more an act of fatalistic resignation than of the courage displayed when boarding the gambling boat to look for Moose Malloy in Farewell, My Lovely. Marlowe doesn’t care what happens to others, so why should he care what happens to himself? It makes the book no less effective, but makes his solving of the final puzzle even more bittersweet than usual.

Chandler’s writing is at its peak. The famous similes are there, and almost every page has at least one line to inspire any writer to whisper “I wish I’d written that” as his eye passes over it. Time has forced a change in perception here, too. The Long Goodbye is Chandler’s farewell to Marlowe in many ways. Playback came several years later, a shadow of the work that had come before, Marlowe rebelling against the prospect of becoming a kept man. It’s impossible to know how Poodle Springs would have turned out had he lived to finish it, instead of Robert B. Parker. The unabashed Chandlerphile Parker—then at the height of his considerable powers—returned Marlowe to the character who took on all comers in The Big Sleep and Farewell, My Lovely, a man probably overmatched who is willing to fight a battle of attrition because, whatever happens to him, he believes it is his will that prevails.

Denouements fall like October leaves in The Long Goodbye as Chandler wraps up loose ends with Eileen Wade, Bernie Ohls, Sylvia Loring, and Terry Lennox. In some ways it’s as if he knew he would never again write anything of this stature and wanted this one to last as long as he could reasonably prolong it, the literary equivalent to Mahler’s Ninth Symphony. In it, he sums everything good and not so good about his writing—nothing about it was ever bad—and lays before the reader as conclusive a testament to his archetypical detective as any scholar could hope to accomplish. Chandler’s own struggles with women and booze showed him Marlowe had to become; in The Long Goodbye, he shows the rest of us.

Knowing what's Important

Apparently the repairs for Hurricane Katrina are complete. The Louisiana state legislature now has time to debate whether it’s a crime to wear jeans too low on the hips. The ACLU and Plumbers’ Union will fight the bill in court if it passes.

Looking a Gift Horse in the Mouth

Washington Capitals fans are in full self-pity mode today, after losing Game 7 of their first round Stanley Cup playoff series in overtime. One of the players was quoted to the effect that beating Philadelphia would be hard enough without having to beat the refs, too.

Waaa.

The Caps had to live with a tough, but proper, no-call that cost them a goal. The penalty that left them shorthanded for the game winner had to be called, or there was no point in even bringing the referees onto the ice for the overtime.

It all worked out for the Caps and their fans. Now they can cry in their beer about how they got jobbed in overtime of a seventh game, instead of spending the summer licking their wounds after Pittsburgh swept them in four games, which is what would have happened had they advanced.

Some people don’t know when they have it good.

Bitter?

I am a native of Western Pennsylvania, grew up in what used to be a small steel town. My father, grandfather, and uncle worked for Alcoa. I left the Pittsburgh area when I joined the army in 1980; the only relatively local teaching job I could find paid $8500.

I still visit my parents in the house where I grew up. My roots to Pittsburgh are deep and solid; the Post-Gazette's web site is regular reading for me. I've lived from Atlanta to Boston to Chicago to Washington DC, but I still consider myself a Pennsylvanian.

That's why the furor over Obama's "bitter" comments offends me. Over the past forty years, the people he's talking about—people I grew up with—have seen their jobs, their medical insurance, and their pensions disappear. Their children—such as me—have moved away to find jobs with futures. Every "improvement" in the American economy has passed them by. Damn right they're bitter. If they seem insular and untrusting, that's because they're down to a few things they can depend on, and they're holding onto them for dear life. If they think every advance made by another group comes at their expense, they have forty years of experience of watching it. The anger is misdirected—more of what they lost has gone to wealthy whites than poor blacks—in large part because Republicans have based their success over the past three decades on portraying the races as natural foes, when the real issue has been class.

Obama’s comments will not play as much of a role as the media predicts for one reason: little offense will be taken. These people know they're bitter. They're used to it, and they might even like Obama a little more for recognizing it in them.

My life and family are established here now; I'm not likely to move back to Pittsburgh. It still makes me feel good to see Pennsylvania play an important role in this pivotal election, as the parts of it I know so well have been taken for granted for so long.

Declan Hughes on New Mystery Reader

New Mystery Reader has just posted an insightful interview with Irish Crime Fiction writer Declan Hughes, who has written three books in his Ed Loy series. While the questions are nothing special (not surprising, considering who asked them), Mr. Hughes’s replies are insightful and entertaining. Well worth checking out.

My Kind of Town

I lived over three years in the Chicago area—Woodridge, actually—and have tried, with diminishing efficiency, to get back as often as possible. It’s been four years since my last trip, and the time has not been kind to my image of the city.

I write a lot of crime fiction set in Chicago, which is the perfect place for crime fiction. The problem is, once you do much research in Chicago’s criminal history, and its ostensibly straight history, one conclusion cannot be avoided: there’s no difference. Maybe New York City’s Tammany Hall era was as corrupt as Chicago has been routinely. Maybe.

Organized crime doesn’t run the city as overtly as in the days of Al Capone, or Tony Accardo and Pat Marcy. It’s also true Chicago has a way of getting things done that, while not unknown elsewhere, has become so entrenched in Chicago as to be part of the culture. Chicago celebrates its criminal past more than any city except Las Vegas, which is not the standard a respectable city wants to maintain.

I’ve learned too much about criminality to romanticize it, so I didn’t look forward to returning as much as I usually do when work took me back this week. It would be nice to see some friends I’ve missed, and four years without an Italian beef from Portillo’s is virtually a life-threatening situation. The plan was to see my buds, eat some beef, get my work done and come home.

That held up until the cab from the airport started driving me past streets I knew too well. My hotel was on West Adams; I was working on South LaSalle. I used to work on West Randolph, so I knew where everything was. All previous disclaimers aside, I felt at home right away. I walked the streets, bought a tee shirt at Blue Chicago, and would have gone to Wrigley Field has I not remembered—just in time—that the Cubs were in Pittsburgh, not the other way round. I enjoyed every second I spent there.

This is no faint praise. I’m a country boy by nature. My childhood home—where my parents still live—had a neighbor on the adjacent property, another across the street. The next house on the other side from the neighbor was half a mile down the road. There were no house behind us for a couple of miles, past a wooded area and the Meadow Gold dairy farm. This is my idea of reasonable population density.

I work in Washington DC every day, and can’t wait to get out of it. I took my daughter to see a photographic exhibit in New York a few years ago, and made it a day trip. There’s something about Chicago, even in the Loop, that’s different. Maybe it’s the freshness of constant rebuilding, or the variety of architecture. More likely it’s the attitude of people all just doing what needs to be done. Chicago calls itself that city that works; its people sure do. Too many of them work in unsavory enterprises, but Chicago is not a place that wants something for nothing.

The weather was typical Chicago April, which is to say Alaskan crabbers wouldn’t want to go out in it, at least not Thursday’s mess of cold, wind, and rain. And I got a head cold worse than I’ve had in years. I’ll be back, though. For the beefs. And the lakefront. Navy Pier. Buckingham Fountain and Ed DeBevic’s. The million little things I didn’t realize I missed until I saw them again.

I just won’t go back on American Airlines.

Getting it Down in Black and White

The reaction to Barack Obama’s speech about race last Tuesday has been generally favorable, with comments ranging from “a milestone in American political rhetoric,” to “a brilliant fraud.” I’ll leave the high-flying rhetoric and minute parsing to those who get paid (too much) to do it. All I know for sure is that Obama’s speech took me from the status of Supporter to Believer.

The comments about his white grandmother reeled me in. I’m from Western Pennsylvania, the area in the political headlights as being key to the now-crucial Pennsylvania primary. I know people like his grandmother well. I grew up with them. I’m related to them. I’ve made comments similar, if not identical, to those he heard his grandmother make. I know what he’s talking about, and it’s about time someone addressed it.

There are racial grievances, real and imagined, on both sides. Actually, more than both, as Hispanics and Asians now have to be included in the discussion much more than forty years ago. The crux of racial intolerance in America will always be black and white, as was ensured by the codification of slavery in the Constitution.

The point I heard Obama make is, no matter who holds the grievance, or whether it’s real or imagined, it doesn’t help. Creating scapegoats gives an excuse not to do anything to help yourself, because it won’t matter. Either The Man won’t give you a break, or some nigger took your job. Wash your hands of it, feel sorry for yourself, it’s not your fault.

Maybe it’s not your fault, but it’s in your best interest for it to get better, and it won’t ever get better without the cooperation of the group you feel is oppressing you. It’s not that The Man took your job, or the black guy got it instead of you. The problem is that the job went elsewhere when some big company cited “best interests of the stockholders.” The stock and profit boom that fed the myth of the Bush expansion was built by removing jobs from the very people the boom depended on to buy the products to sustain the boom. The side effects of this government subsidized Ponzi scheme are now being felt in a very real way.

What made Obama’s speech special was not whether he’s right or wrong; it’s the courage and leadership he showed in taking an uncomfortable and unfortunate situation by the horns and calling it for what it was, without pointing fingers.

White guilt has nothing to do with embracing Obama’a speech. Slavery is a blot on this country’s soul that can never be erased. That being said, no one reading this had anything to do with it—or with Jim Crow—therefore we share no responsibility or guilt. That doesn’t mean we don’t live with the consequences every day. Sooner or later we have to deal with them as a nation. Barack Obama is uniquely suited to start that discussion.

Iraq and Roll Politics

Before I had a blog, I used to torment personal friends only with my rants. Most of them are, thankfully, lost to history. In cleaning off my hard drive in preparation of getting a new computer, I found this one, originally written March 15, 2003, just a few days before shock and awe.

Okay, so the email petition against the war was a fake. Big deal. The point is still well taken.

The Bush Administration has not made the case for doing whatever the hell it wants to do. Colin Powell’s evidence was not a smoking gun, it wasn’t even a sputtering candle. The follow-up evidence of the medical attention provided to what’s-his-name isn’t worth talking about, either. Seems Iraq got rid of him as quickly as practically possible.

Sure, Saddam Hussein is the worst thing to happen to the world since reality television. The Bushies’ argument for his removal, once you wade through the raisons du jour, seems to be that Iraq is a rogue state who can’t be trusted to live respectably in the community of nations.

They’re right. He can’t. Unfortunately, Bush has squandered so much hard earned American prestige that we may be destined to be the losers here, whether Saddam survives or not.

This Administration has pulled us out of the Kyoto Greenhouse Accords. We refuse to accept the jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court in the Hague, lest any American’s be tried as war criminals. (I wonder what the reaction would be from Don Rumsfeld is another country had done that.) We have made mention more than once that we are willing to use nuclear weapons in Iraq.

A few weeks ago Rumsfeld went to Congress to ask that the Missile Defense System, better and more appropriately known as “Star Wars,” be excluded from operational testing before being deployed. He says we need it right now. The fact that there hasn’t been a single successful test doesn’t enter into the equation.

John Ashcroft makes daily forays into new and creative interpretations of the Constitution. The Orwellian-named Patriot Act essentially makes possession of a library card probable cause for a warrant. There is now a database to determine your “threat level” as an airline passenger. A red listing will deny you access to your plane, whether it’s accurate or not. Even the current poodle Congress finally has its hackles up at the proposed Defense Department database to track and cross-reference every financial transaction we make.

Are these the acts of an administration reacting to an overwhelming electoral mandate? Hardly. Let’s think back a couple of years. The votes finally got counted and Bush won, but more people voted for Gore. The fairness of the victory is not in dispute here, just the size of the mandate.

We said we didn’t need the UN, which we probably don’t, then went in for a resolution, anyway. We said we didn’t need another resolution, but we’re still fooling around getting one, unless it’s one of those days where we don’t think we have the votes. All compromises not suggested by us are deemed to be non-starters.

The rhetoric coming from our side has been so harsh as to alienate many of our regular supporters. (Screw the French, no one cares what they think. They have been irrelevant for many years and are just now figuring it out.) We have no place left to negotiate to. Over 150,000 troops can’t be kept in the field indefinitely. They either have to come home or get to work soon, and there’s no way they can come home now without Bush getting more egg on his face than Bill Clinton when they found Monica’s dress.

What has us in this situation? Reduced to its simplest form, it’s because George W. Bush thinks he is God’s instrument on Earth. His fundamentalist Christian beliefs have given him the moral certainty that he is right and anyone who opposes him is wrong. That explains much of what passes for diplomatic communication coming from Washington these days: You’re either for us, or against us. Anyone who disagrees must be wrong, and is therefore either the enemy, or sleeping with him.

I’m no bible scholar, but I don’t remember hearing a lot of that kind of attitude attributed to the man from whom Christianity has taken its name. It sounds a whole lot more like what we would hear from our current sworn enemies, where everything is in absolutes and annihilation of the infidels is the only recourse.

The Bush Administration has told us that the removal of Saddam Hussein will take care of everything from terrorism to Mid East peace to the common cold. Running amuck like a longshoreman on a three-day drunk will remove Saddam, but it is more likely to create more terrorists of those currently on the fence than it is to lessen the danger.

Then again, no matter what is said, lessening the danger isn’t the primary objective here anymore. All that’s matters now is that Bush is Right. And he is. God is on our side.

I hope God remembers that when we’re through there.

Economics 102

Let’s get this straight: Business, as a class of American society, wants the government to allow the free market to operate. True capitalism is messy, they say, but it works in the end. People will lose their jobs and houses, college educations may have to be skipped, retirements gutted by lost pensions, but the general trend will always be upward if business is left alone to let things shake themselves out. The better and stronger ideas will, eventually, overcome the lesser and weaker.

Until it’s them with their tit in the wringer.

Now we can see what it means for the government to keep its hands off business. It means business is free to do what it wants, take what it wants at whatever expense to the general welfare, then run to the same government it vilifies when its unsustainable greed comes around to treat them as it treated all the others who constituted collateral damage when times were “good.”

It is said the institutional investors can’t afford to lose too much of their investment in Bear Stearns. The stock’s fifty-two week high was $159.36; the buyout is for $2. The stock lost 99% of its value, and we’re going worry that California’s pension fund will go broke over the last one percent?

We can’t afford the ripple effects on the rest of the economy? How about the people who have already lost everything? What are we to tell them? I’ve said before, people who got into mortgages they couldn’t pay don’t deserve much sympathy. How much do the people who wrote them deserve, or, more to the point with Bear Stearns, how much sympathy is due those who based their securities packages on mortgages they never bothered to verify were liquid?

The stockholders – and taxpayers, for that matter – should have recourse to sue the hell out of the Bear Stearns managers responsible for this. They’ve banked their hundred million dollar packages and bonuses. They’ll get by if they’re fired. Still advocate reduced tax rates for fund managers? Why? They appear to have no risk. Take any chances – Bear Stearns’ culture demanded it – and walk away with however much you can carry before the music stops, in case you’re the guy without a chair.

September 11. Iraq. Katrina. Now this. Will January 20, 2009 for Chrissakes hurry up so there will be something left to hand over to the next guy?

Economics 101

It is often said the Republican Party is the party of business. That the economy does better when Republican administrations allow it to operate unfettered by oppressive regulation and allow the natural order of business to balance things out on its own.

If that’s true, how come Republicans seem to own the franchise on financial collapse?

1929 stock market crash, leading to the Great Depression – Herbert Hoover, President.

1981-1982 liberalization of saving and loan regulations leads to S&L crisis – Ronald Reagan, President.

“Black Monday” stock market crash, October 19, 1987 – Ronald Reagan, President.

Subprime lending crisis – George W. Bush, President.

Is it true that Republicans have a better understanding of economics, or that they can’t tell the difference between sound policy and unsustainable greed?

The MBAs can leave now.

An Open Letter to Giant Food LLC

March 8, 2008

Giant Food LLC
Consumer Affairs Department
8301 Professional Place
Suite 115
Landover MD 20785

Dear Sir or Madam:

I have been a regular Giant shopper since moving to the Washington area in late 1996. I have always thought Giant’s selection, store layout, and prices were the best value of any local supermarket. My recent experiences at your Laurel Store (0340) have forced me to re-assess my opinion.

The selection, layout, and prices are still the best around. The produce section, in particular, stands out. The produce manager is routinely there when I shop on Saturday mornings, and she is always cheerful, helpful, and willing to go out of her way to find what I need, even if it’s not in the produce section. That is true of most of the employees I have encountered.

Having found everything I need, and judiciously used my Bonus Card, whatever goodwill has accrued during my visit is erased when it comes time to check out. For months now, the number of full-service checkout lines has been woefully inadequate to accommodate the customer volume. The situation became so bad I shopped at Shoppers Food Warehouse for a few weeks before returning to the store I knew best.

My first week back at Giant 0340 found seven carts, all but a couple filled above the rim, lined up to use the sole open checkout lane. I complained to a manager, who apologized. Last week was marginally better, but I didn’t have time to speak to anyone.

This week was the final straw. Nine-fifteen on a Saturday morning, and not one full service checkout lane was operating. I got into the lengthy Express lane and asked the first employee I saw to get me a manager. I noticed as I was checking out that one of my items did not capture my bonus card savings, and the checker could not find it in this week’s flyer.

A manager finally arrived, the same gentleman I spoke with a few weeks ago. I pointed out the situation to him, and noted the cashier now working a full-service lane had only appeared in the past minute. He walked over to see to something and I went back into the store to verify I had been correct about the Bonus Card question. I found the tag on the shelf, but noted in the fine print the offer had expired on March 5.

Catching up with the manager, I asked about the Bonus Card tag, as the checkout lane question was now moot. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Since we don’t seem to be able to get enough checkers, can we at least keep outdated sale notices off the shelves. (Handing him the shelf tag.) I paid an extra buck-sixty apiece for these because the old tag was there.

Giant Manager: Did they give it to you for free?

Me: The tag’s outdated. The price she charged was correct.

Giant Manager: Go back through the line if the tag’s wrong. You can get it for free.

Me (pointing): That line? That’s what started this whole thing.

Giant Manager: (No response)

Me: Tell you what. You keep the tag and my three-twenty, and I won’t shop here any more.

Giant Manager: Okay.

So I won’t. A customer of over eleven years’ standing gone, because Giant 0340 can’t be bothered to take my money in a timely manner, and, apparently, doesn’t care if I shop elsewhere. I pass a Shoppers Food Warehouse and a Safeway to get to Giant 0340. It used to be worth it. No more.

Interesting Statistic

An Associated Press-Ipsos poll found people who consider themselves liberals read more books than conservatives. You know why?

Because they can.

Catch 23

Read Jonathan Turley's column in today's Los Angeles Times.

Is There a Doctor in the House?

Psychiatrists would do well to investigate a strange malady best described as Americanitis. It resembles bipolar disorder in many ways, with traces of messianic complex. It appears to occur uniquely in North Americans living in the United States.

Where else can you find people who spend so much time railing against government intervention in their lives, such as taxes, mileage standards for automobiles, affordable health care, keeping guns out of the hands of those likely to use them to harm others, to name a few. All of these are said to be improper uses of governmental authority, as the government cannot be trusted to keep the people’s best interests and privacy in mind.

Yet these same people have no trouble allowing that same government to listen to their phone calls, open their emails, and keep them under increasing photographic and video surveillance everywhere they go.

Maybe Americanitis isn’t quite the right term. Paranoia Republicania has a nice ring to it, and hits closer to the mark.

A Press Release From The Home Office

The Home Office is pleased to announce the publication of the short story, “Green Gables,” in the February/March issue of ThugLit magazine. Click here and scroll down to Issue 24 to read it.

Many thanks to Big Daddy Thug and Lady Detroit (Todd Robinson and Allison Glasgow) for their support, and for suggesting a key edit.