On a final observance

Okay, so this is going to be my last post on 9/11. It's sort of become a requirement among even the most vaguely political bloggers to post on September 11 and remember where we were when we heard about the attacks, whether or not we knew or thought we knew someone in the towers or the Pentagon, what happened in the immediate aftermath, what's happened since, what's happened with the families of the victims, why those attacks are such a vital (if you're blogging from the right) or ridiculous (blogging from the left) justification for our current war, and why everyone on the other side of the argument obviously hates America. And then it's pointed out that 9/11 changed everything.

Except the more I thought about it today, the more I realized: 9/11 changed nothing.

Now, don't get me wrong; there are people whose lives are deeply and irreconcilably different since those attacks. The families of these people, for instance. They had to deal with the fear to begin with, and then the pain of losing a loved one, and have since been bombarded with constant images of the attacks and been dragged around and used - by both sides - as political tools and pawns. And the workers who helped to treat survivors and clean up and rebuild, the ones who are now sick after being assured by the government that they were in absolutely no danger, many of whom are being denied affordable treatment for those same illnesses because God forbid we should have anything approaching universal health care. Those people who were directly and immediately touched by the attacks have their own unique experiential set resulting from that day, a set with which I sympathize and which I hope never to be able to fully understand. I begrudge those people no amount of grief or anger, and however they choose to mourn, publicly or privately, I offer no argument.

But for the vast majority of Americans, 9/11 changed nothing. And not just because so many of us were merely riding the grief train in the months following the attacks, manufacturing grief and fear beyond what we sincerely felt so that we could feel like a part of this national outpouring of emotion. And not because nothing changed. Our world right now is, in fact, quite different from the way it was before the attacks.

Since the attacks, Americans have become more jingoistic. We've lashed out at well-meaning allies. We've alienated just about every other country in the entire world with our foreign policy. In the co-opted name of the victims of the attacks, we've sent the men and women who've vowed to keep us safe to invade another, un-9/11-adjacent country without provocation. We're embroiled in a war seemingly without end. We've renamed "French fries" "Freedom fries" and then changed the name back. We've held up the families of 9/11 victims as justification for war, and then we've chastised them when they protested such exploitation or grieved in a government-nonapproved fashion. We've attacked Arabs for possibly being Muslims, and we've attacked Sikhs for looking like Arabs. We've decried the abuses of women in Arab countries, and then we've spat on women on our own city streets for daring to wear the hijab. We've convinced ourselves that the Iraqi people are innocent and worthy of our help and simultaneously ungrateful wretches who deserve anything that comes to them. We've made it okay, even admirable, to be xenophobic and hateful. We've normalized racial profiling. We've criminalized dissent. We've submitted to unconstitutional government invasions of our privacy. We've consented to torture. We've reduced the American flag to an item of apparel and the attacks of September 11 to a smoking-tower logo and "We'll Never Forget" suitable for t-shirt, bumper sticker, snow globe, or Commemorative Coin Forged From Genuine Ground Zero Salvaged Steel. Between American casualties in Iraq and lives lost in the attacks themselves, we're nearly 7,000 fewer than we were six years and a day ago.

But those changes aren't because of 9/11. Correlation vs. causation; those changes happened after the September 11 attacks, but not because of them. Those changes happened because someone - lots of someones - saw an opportunity to turn a tragedy into a campaign.

The 9/11 hijackers were Saudis, but we're not at war with Saudi Arabia. The attacks were coordinated by Osama bin Laden, but we're no closer to capturing him than we've ever been. Our airport security is and has been weak as water, but the best efforts made for our safety involve putting our travel-sized shampoo bottles in Ziploc bags. The terrorist cells that constantly threaten our safety are holed up on the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan, but our troops are too bogged down in Iraq and our global diplomacy cred is so shot that we can't get into other countries to punish those responsible for the attacks. We're told that the terrorists hate us for our freedoms, and all the while the government is systematically stripping those freedoms away unquestioned. We've given complete control of our lives to a man who takes vacations during natural disasters and hasn't mastered the pronunciation of "nuclear" yet and has fed us one untruth after another to justify his war, because he looks convincing in a cowboy hat, and because anyone preaching reason and moderation is far too removed from the "boot in the ass" misguided-revenge-seekers who appeal to the lesser angels of our nature.

But 9/11 didn't do any of that. We did that. We just used 9/11 as an excuse.

You know what would be awesome? If 9/11 really did change everything. If we took that feeling of global unity - "We are all Americans" - that immediately followed the attacks and ran with it. If, instead of alienating our allies and neighbors by lashing our randomly, we worked together to rout out the true causes of global terrorism. If we made it a priority to understand other cultures instead of demonizing them. If we reached out to grieving families instead of using them for our own purposes. If we stepped outside of our own personal bubbles and looked to happiness other than our own. If we reacted with compassion instead of fear. If, instead of playing directly from the terrorists' script and letting our lives turn into a reactionary chaos of fear and mistrust and hatred, we resolved to make our country, and our place in the world, stronger, safer, more welcoming, more understanding, more open. If we realized that life is precious and can be gone in an instant, and that the only way to honor that is to live life, with others, rather than cowering in fear.

We've been there. I've seen it. Right after the attacks, back before those in power set to really cultivating the fear that the attacks seeded, blood banks were overflowing with donors and state troopers were running bucket-brigade relays to get that blood where it needed to go. Anyone grieving or afraid had a set of available arms nearby. Some churches and synagogues and mosques were hosting seminars and gatherings to promote understanding and correct misconceptions between faiths. Firefighters held out boots at traffic lights, and those boots were always full to overflowing with donations. During that first flush, when news coverage showed nothing but disaster footage, for whatever reason we turned to each other in the US and in the rest of the world, and the sheer potential of it all was amazing. Back before it all got really dirty, it was the one shining hope that could arise from the rubble like the clichéd flower poking out of a crack in a sidewalk.

We can be that potential. We can choose, even at this late and seemingly immutable point, to go back and find that place where we could make a good thing out of something that seemed completely devoid of any goodness. And when we do that, you'll get another September post for me saying that I knew all along how 9/11 changed everything.

On a question: How many Capitol police officers does it take to take down a minister?

Okay, so the answer: Six.



Our rights to peacefully assemble and to petition our government for redress now in the crapper, I propose we move on to that whole "quartering soldiers" thing. That'n's been begging to be discarded for a while now.

On the good, the bad, and the Friday Random Ten

One of these things is totally adorable.

Okay, so it's been rather the quiet news week this week. No real surprises. The famed September report? Not gonna happen. Shock! Bush knew Saddam didn't have WMD? Shockier! "Wide Stance" Craig still says he's not gay and might not resign after all? Didn't see that coming! Next thing you know, they're going to be telling us that men like hot women.

And just as reliable as Bush's gin-addled alternate reality is Practically Harmless's good, bad, and Ten.

What's good (for the week ending 9/7/07):

- Pavarotti's signature Nessun Dorma (and may angels sings thee to thy rest)
- Herbal Essences True Intense Color in Deep Red
- Georgia 35, Oklahoma State 14
- Appalachian State 34, Michigan 32
- m&ms

What's not good:
- Not knowing where your nuclear warheads are
- The aforementioned liar, a liar with his pants on fire.

The Ten:

1. Sarah McLachlan, "Last Dance"
2. The Verve, "Bittersweet Symphony"
3. Bobby Darin, "I'm Beginning to See the Light"
4. Jump, Little Children, "Angel Dust"
5. Saliva, "Superstar"
6. The Features, "Blow It Out"
7. N.W.A., "Fuck Tha Police"
8. Cal Tjader, "Soul Sauce (Guachi Guaro)"
9. Evelyn "Champagne" King, "Shame"
10. Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, "Danse napolitaine" from Swan Lake

I thought we were about to get an inadvertent tribute to Pavarotti there for a minute... and then came N.W.A., and it all suddenly means something completely different. Anyway, that's my good and bad; what's good for you this week?

On a shocking study that may change the way we view the opposite sex

Okay, so it's a good thing we can rely on CNN for the kind of earth-shattering news that has real impact on the way we live. Where would we, as a society, be without headlines like this?

Men want hot women, study confirms

Someone rent me a roomy yet affordable storage unit with which to contain my shock.

The study of 46 men and women in Germany found that, in speed-dating situations, men had a marked tendency to compeltely ignore any previously stated preference and go after every reasonably hot chick that wandered into their eyeline, including the occasional waitress, bartender, and Bugs Bunny in a wig and minidress.

Women, unlike the men and their shotgun approach, also jettisoned stated preference in favor of physical appearance but tended to take into consideration their own attractiveness when gunning for a man. A woman who considered herself a 6, for instance, would be more likely to limit herself to men in the 6-8 range, whereas a similar man would go after any woman higher than a 6.

Variables not accounted for in this study: alcohol use on the part of either party, money, mental instability, and/or whatever X-factor Kevin Federline is carrying around that's gotten him four babies and a fat alimony check.

On the good, the bad, and the Friday Random Ten

Okay, so honestly, one of the best things about this week was actually having time to find things that are good and bad. Non-work related things, I mean. I probably could have come up with enough to fill up a list, but unless "those little magnets that look like thumb tacks" and "imposition proofs that leave deep paper cuts" move you deeply, you're probably not going to identify.

I have had time, though, and it's been a pretty good week for news, so this is what I've got for you:

What's good (for the week ending 8/31/07):

- payday
- Vespers
- baby hedgehogs
- another one biting the dust
- the return of college football

What's not good:

- trolling for sex in airport bathrooms
- douchenozzles

The Ten:

1. Vertical Horizon, "Everything You Want"
2. Passengers, "Miss Sarajevo"
3. Christina Aguilera, "What a Girl Wants"
4. Johnny Cash, "I Still Miss Someone"
5. Gioacchino Rossini, "Gloria in excelsis Deo," from Petite messe solennelle
6. Maroon 5, "Secret"
7. Remy Zero, "Belong"
8. Diane Schuur, "Do Nothin' Till You Hear From Me"
9. The Smiths, "Shoplifters of the World Unite"
10. Lisa Loeb, "We Could Still Belong Together"

And what about you? What's good for you this week?

On a pathological case of wishful thinking

Ooh, baby, calculate a way for me to please you.

Okay, so courtesy of Doug comes this link to a guide for women looking to be the "perfect football date." A guide written by a Georgia Tech guy. On being the perfect football date. Anyway, Doug was curious to see my reaction as both a ball-busting feminist and a similarly passionate Georgia fan. I have to say, though, that my feminist card may be in danger, because "And why exactly am I expected to suit my football fandom to your standards?" was only my second thought.

The first one was, of course, "Georgia Tech guy? Date? That's a category error, right?"

I guess I just don't know, though. I mean, some of those guys are going to end up making some money, so it's not unlikely that some girls will find that attractive and will have the foresight to hook up early. For those girls, here's the advice provided by the Ramblin Racket:

First and foremost, to be the perfect date, you have to be a delicious piece of arm candy. Sun dress, high heels, and a pearl necklace are pretty much givens in this instance, and for lots of girls out there, this is how you roll anyway, so far so good.

What not to wear is a lot more broad. Pretty much crummy clothes in general. A t-shirt is poor form, a jersey in most cases is sorta lame, and worst of all are those god awful 'non-functional belts'.

Soooo Kentucky Derby-wear (minus, I'm sure, the distracting hat) is in, and anything comfortable and/or displaying team spirit is right out. Got it. I'm sure those heels'll make it a lot easier to sprint to the keg as we try to

Monitor your date's beverage needs. If he's gettin' low, and you show up with a fresh cold one for him, you will be IN. Also, showing up with a tasty food item will also score huge points with our friends, which is a really good way to get a guy to like you. If his friends like you, you're in good shape.

Fetching drinks. Awesome. I can do that. Anything else?

Study up. That's right, study up, and know who the key players are for your date's team, if not some of the big guns on the other team. Not knowing the rules isn't cute. We don't want to have to explain them to you, and fortunately, a lot of ladies already know what's going on in the game of football, so this shouldn't be much of an issue. You get MAJOR bonus points if you know what penalty was called before it's announced, and a hearty "that's bullshit" objection, while not especially lady-like, will be appreciated in rare instances, if only because guys think its cute when pretty girls get all worked up and let a curse slip out once in a while.

Oh, to think I'm just one naughty word away from being cute! Such a relief. Now, that extensive studying, does that give me the right to school you openly in front of your friends and still be "cute," or would that make your willie shrivel up like a cashew and rocket me into the "uncute" category? 'Cause God knows I want to get this right.

Other game related notes are that you are going to be called upon to smuggle whiskey into the stadium for us. Your objections to any such requests will result in loss of cool points, teasing, and may cause us to offer drinks to hotter girls we might bump into while in the stadium because clearly "you don't get it." Just do yourself a favor and come prepared to smuggle in a flask or two, or don't bother coming at all.

Human Camelbak. Check.

Half time is pretty much our chance to walk around and say 'hey' to people we might not normally see, better looking girls than you included. Don't be offended at our outright flirtations because if we had a chance, we would be at the game with them in the first place. This is when you need to be in full arm candy mode, by the way. I've wanted see your tits pop in that dress all day baby, and half-time is that time. This is important for making dudes jealous, and making those girls we just flirted with second guess themselves (we hope). Remember, as humans we are always trying to trade up to something better, so try to make us look good if you can, thanks.

Let me just recap, 'cause you know I want to get this right: Sundress, heels, pearls, no t-shirts or jerseys, fetch food and drink, know just enough about football to be "cute," hang on his arm to make all the guys jealous and the girls covetous, and never drop the merest hint that you were late to the tailgate because your date was deeply embroiled in a game of Puzzle Pirates with an electrical engineering student two floors down.

In other words, this is hot:


This is not hot:


Spanish fly:


Saltpeter:


Any questions?


And for God's sake, don't mention this.

On Sen. Larry "Wide Stance" Craig

Okay, so I seriously couldn't care less if Larry Craig is gay or not.

Well, okay, I do care, but not because anything is wrong with being gay. I wanted to get that out of the way first, because folks (conservative folks, Freeperish folks, of course, and others) like to talk about how hypocritical Democrats are that we support equal rights for gays and then are all, "Oooh, he's gaaaay," but the gay isn't the problem.

The hypocrisy is the problem, really. His hypocrisy, and the hypocrisy of the rest of the Bible-beating family-values conservatives who like to step out on their wives with a man, or a hooker, or an undercover cop, or a meth dealer who's a man (Ted Haggard, Doug, you missed one).

In all of those cases, and in Larry Craig's, it's not the gay sex that's the problem. The problem is the fact that these men have made their careers holding their Bibles high above their heads, parading their perfect nuclear families around in dirndls and knee-pants, cursing teh gheys straight to hell, pushing legislation to punish gay couples and gay families and unmarried people who have sex and women who get pregnant and low-income families and single parents and everyone else who doesn't conform to this unrealistic, idealized image that they swear is the life they live. They set themselves up - themselves, this isn't something that's been thrust upon them - as unblemished paragons of virtue, as standards up to which the rest of must live or else, while living the very lives that they seek to punish.

Larry Craig is the worst kind of hypocrite, because he's so ashamed of his homosexuality. He finds it shameful and evil and filthy and wrong, and everyone around him, everyone in his party and every religious leader who bends his ear, tells him that every day. He's so desperate to hide his shame that he's willing to force every comfortably out gay person back into the closet, to punish them for who and what they are, to make them feel the shame that he feels every day. And hide it all under the blanket of "family values." He's like the grumpy guy at the party; seeing all of these happy people only makes him grumpier, and the only way to soothe his grump is to make everyone else just as pissed-off as he is.

As far as outing and closeting are concerned, I'm not going to tell another person what to do with his or her life. Pam at Pandagon has written extensively on the politics of the closet and the damage it does to the gay rights movement, and as a straight woman, I won't question her on that. But I also won't tell anyone else what to do with their lives. I can't imagine the pressure involved in coming out, and if you don't feel comfortable doing that, it's no one's place to force you to do it, even if doing so would benefit the movement as a whole. All we can do is try to create a world where gay people do feel comfortable expressing that part of themselves without the discrimination and antipathy that Larry Craig promotes.

So go ahead, Lar, you're totally straight. It's rather common, actually, for straight people to plead guilty to soliciting gay sex in a public restroom just to keep the media quiet. It's completely common for a straight man to have a long history of soliticing gay sex in public restrooms. You just shut that closet door tight and pretend that you're not one of the people you've so hatefully railed against your entire career. Because God forbid you should have to actually step out of that closet and live in the world you've created.

On another job opening in the Bush administration

Okay, so Attorney General Alberto Gonzales says he's resigning.

But can we believe him?

On the kind of sick relationship from which our children must be preserved

Okay, so we all know that children are the future. And we know how important it is that children be raised in a stable household with a mother and father, or a mother and an absent father, or a father and no mother, or an abusive pair of parents, or an alcoholic mother and a codependant father, or vice vera, or vice any of them versa, as long as kids aren't being raised by two stable, responsible women (or men) who love them very much (clutch pearls!).

I don't even know what to make of this:

Four tiny orpahned hedgehogs are snuggling up to the bristles of a cleaning brush - because they think it's their mother.

The four inch long creatures are being hand-reared by staff at the New Forest Otter, Owl and Wildlife Park in Ashurst, Hants.

Workers say Mary, Mungo, Midge and Slappy get comfort from playing with the centre's cleaning brush and enjoy rubbing against it.

The smells on the brush, which is used to sweep a yard, remind the hedgehogs of their natural habitat while the texture reminds them of their mother.

On the one hand, this unnatural relationship that these hedgehog bébés have with that cleaning brush is just twisted. They're doomed to growup without appreciation for the traditional gender roles of girl hedgehogs and boy hedgehogs; why, they're likely to think that the job of a hedgehog mom is to just lie there, unmoving, all day long, while the kids crawl all over her and the father works long hours to keep the whole family in grubs.

On the other hand, they could be raised by two female hedgehogs, and God knows what that would do to them.

(Hat tip Cute Overload)

On the good, the bad, and the Friday Random Ten

Two people who need spankings for very, very different reasons.

Okay, so when the endorphins start wearing off and a kind of torpid euphoria sets in, you remember that the past week was crazy like Rose McGowan's love life (and wardrobe), but you don't remember precisely why. And that, in and of itself, is a good thing. Here are a few more.

What's good (for the week ending 8/24/07):

- a boss who says, "You worked really late last Thursday. Why don't you bust out of here a little early today?"
- the Classy/Trashy Party to benefit Magic Moments (photos to follow)
- kicking your shoes off at the end of a long day
- Neutrogena Oil-Free Eye Makeup Remover
- Inside Man on DVD

What's not good:

- disproportionate sentences for drug-related crimes
- tight deadlines

The Ten:

1. Joss Stone, "Super Duper Love (Are You Diggin' On Me?) Part 1"
2. Trey Parker and Matt Stone, "I've Got Something in My Front Pocket for You" from "South Park"
3. Dinah Washington, "No More"
4. Morrissey, "Glamorous Glue"
5. 311, "Leaving Babylon"
6. Kay Starr, "My Kinda Love"
7. The Smiths, "That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore"
8. Sarah Brightman, "Deliver Me"
9. Nine Days, "Bob Dylan"
10. Luigi Boccherini, "Allegro" (from Concerto in G Major)

And what about you? What's good for you this week?

On crime and punishment

Okay, so yeah, I have been that busy.

It's exhausting.

I've literally had no time to surf the Internet for fun, which means no blogs, which means no links, which means no blogging from me, and after a week-long absence, what pisses me off more than anything? Lindsay Lohan.

Yeah, I know there has to be something more important going on out there. The stock market is yoyo-ing, wingers are plotting to overthrow the Iraqi government, the media have given up on fact checking, apparently Leona Helmsley died, and I'm all, "Hey, a Hollywood celebrity got an unreasonably light sentence for her dangerous crimes! I clutch my pearls in shock!"

But here's what got to me:

But there's more to the story: In deciding whether to file felony cocaine charges, the D.A. always looks at the person and the circumstances. In Lohan's case, the fact that she was busted twice in a short period of time actually helped her. It shows someone is struggling with an addiction problem. The fact that each time she was busted, she immediately checked into a rehab facility also helped her case. Also, her age -- 21 -- and the fact that her upbringing was extremely unstable -- also worked in her favor.

One law enforcement source put it this way: "Prosecutors in this county see a lot of kids in crisis. There are lots of kids struggling with addiction. The first sign of trouble usually involves a car. We're not going to throw every one of them in prison. It doesn't make sense."

Well, no, not every one of them. That would be silly. Just the blacks and the Hispanics. After imprisoning them at disproportionate rates, we can just take care of that whole "overcrowding" thing by letting the pretty white girls walk. She's a kid in crisis!

And I also find it fairly cool that being a repeat offender now gets you leniency. That's going to make huge waves in the legal communiy as they shift their traditional punitive course to, "Three strikes and you're out... on probation, you silly little slugger! Don't go doing those nasty drugs again, now!" Bouncing in and out of rehab like it's an inflatable castle at a company picnic is absolutely a sign that she's committed to recovery. And let's also not forget that this millionaire movie and recording star had an unstable upbringing, as opposed to the thousands of uber-tan youths currently imprisoned on drug charges who've only had to deal with, like, single parents and housing projects and gang violence and concerns about money and food and stuff.

Ugh, I'm tired, and the sarcasm is starting to run out. I just think it sucks, is all. Am I the only person who thinks that maybe "has everything going for her and has chosen to piss it all away because she's spoiled and unsupervised" isn't really valid as a mitigating circumstance when the charges involve driving with a BAC more than twice the legal limit and chasing someone around in an SUV?

I'm not the stealing type, but I'm sorely tempted to try and knock over a convenience store now. And when the cops catch me with my pockets full of crumpled bills from the register and my purse full of purloined snack cakes and maybe a bottle of fuel injector cleaner, I'm going to say, "Hey, listen, you don't know what it's like to grow up comfortable and loved by your parents. When my friends complained about their parents, I was completely unable to commiserate! I had to compete fairly with my peers for class rankings and scholarships! And don't even get me started on the white guilt!" And the cops will be all, "Wow, you're right. That's a tough break. It's a lot to deal with. We're going to let you off with a warning this time, but next time, you need to ask before you leap across the counter and empty the till. And it's okay, you can keep the pastries. Crazy lil' nipper."

On the good, the bad, and the Friday Random Ten

Another winner, another loser.

Okay, so what's good and bad this week?

Good gravy, can't y'all tell I'm busy?

What's good (for the week ending 8/17/07):

- iced coffee
- Ben & Jerry's Black and Tan ice cream
- rain (offer not applicable in Texas or Hawaii)
- spinach and feta pizza
- Michael Bublé at the Fox Theatre (or so I'm told)

What's not good:

- thirteen-hour workdays with no lunch
- creepy mandatory national ID cards

The Ten:

1. Michelle Branch, "You Set Me Free"
2. DJ Sammy, "Heaven"
3. Pet Shop Boys, "I Made My Excuses & Left"
4. Joss Stone, "Chokin' Kind"
5. Josie and the Pussycats, "Real Wild Child"
6. Billie Holiday, "Stormy Weather"
7. Johnny Cash, "I Walk the Line"
8. Lauryn Hill, "Lost Ones"
9. Cake, "Race Car Ya-Yas"
10. Massive Attack, "Teardrop"

What's good for you this week?

On the Department of Why Isn't Everyone More Pissed Off About This?: Mark of the Beast edition

Okay, so I hate hearing about this stuff after the legislation is long passed and I don't get to bend my chosen legislator's ear about it:

Americans may need passports to board domestic flights or to picnic in a national park next year if they live in one of the states defying the federal Real ID Act.

The act, signed in 2005 as part of an emergency military spending and tsunami relief bill, aims to weave driver’s licenses and state ID cards into a sort of national identification system by May 2008. The law sets baseline criteria for how driver’s licenses will be issued and what information they must contain.

The [newly mandated federal ID] would be mandatory for all “federal purposes,” which include boarding an airplane or walking into a federal building, nuclear facility or national park, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff told the National Conference of State Legislatures last week. Citizens in states that don’t comply with the new rules will have to use passports for federal purposes.

Quoi? Beg pardon? "Real ID Act"? When did this happen? Did Richard Shelby call me and ask me if I wanted all of my personal information stored on some conveniently stealable wallet card? How is it that people are up in arms and state legislatures are passing symbolic bills denouncing it and I haven't heard a damn thing in the maintstream media?

Apparently, applicants for the Real ID (which we're all supposed to have by 2013) have to show up with a photo ID, birth certificate, proof of Social Security number, and proof of residence, all of which the states will maintain in their totally secure, thoroughly impenetrable databases. States may end up charging in the neighborhood of $100 (which, of course, we all have) per Real ID, and in the absence of said Real ID, a passport (which, of course, we also all have) will be required to board a plane or enter public national parkland.

In short: The government wants to store all of the personal information essential to our identities on one, small, easy-to-steal wallet card, so that the guy checking my age at the liquor store has access to my Social Security number, and so that I can be prevented from entering the public national parkland that my tax dollars maintain, and so that I can be prevented from boarding a plane to travel within the United States even if I can show the same state ID card I've had my entire life that's been perfectly satisfactory for that purpose in the past, and so that I can obediently show Papiere any time a government agent demands them of me.

Why isn't everyone more pissed off about this?

On stuff we already knew

Okay, so now it's time to play a little game we like to call "Who Said It?"

Here's the quote:

Because if we’d gone to Baghdad we would have been all alone. There wouldn’t have been anybody else with us. There would have been a U.S. occupation of Iraq. None of the Arab forces that were willing to fight with us in Kuwait were willing to invade Iraq.

Once you got to Iraq and took it over, took down Saddam Hussein’s government, then what are you going to put in its place? That’s a very volatile part of the world, and if you take down the central government of Iraq, you could very easily end up seeing pieces of Iraq fly off: part of it, the Syrians would like to have to the west, part of it — eastern Iraq — the Iranians would like to claim, they fought over it for eight years. In the north you’ve got the Kurds, and if the Kurds spin loose and join with the Kurds in Turkey, then you threaten the territorial integrity of Turkey.

It’s a quagmire if you go that far and try to take over Iraq.

And now you get to figure out who said it! (See how that works with the name of the game? Kind of intuitive.)

Did you guess "ACG at Practically Harmless"? If so, you're... well, kind of right, maybe, because I'm sure that I've said that once or a dozen times. But no, that particular quote came from none other than Dick Cheney himself. 'Cept he said it back in 1994, back when logic still halfway applied, before invading Iraq became a good thing via the magical power of Karl Rove.

While we're playing the game, who said this?

“He will move back up in the polls,” says [our mystery speaker], who interrupts my reference to Mr. Bush’s 30% approval rating by saying it’s heading close to “40%,” and “higher than Congress.”

Looking ahead, he adds, “Iraq will be in a better place” as the surge continues. Come the autumn, too, “we’ll see in the battle over FISA” — the wiretapping of foreign terrorists — “a fissure in the Democratic Party.” Also in the fall, “the budget fight will have been fought to our advantage,” helping the GOP restore, through a series of presidential vetoes, its brand name on spending restraint and taxes.

As for the Democrats, “They are likely to nominate a tough, tenacious, fatally flawed candidate” by the name of Hillary Rodham Clinton. Holding the White House for a third term is always difficult given the pent-up desire for change, he says, but “I think we’ve got a very good chance to do so.”

That would be "political genius" and "brilliant mind" Karl Rove, who is packing up his shrunken baby heads and cat-o'-nine-tails for his departure from the White House at the end of the month. He says it's "to spend more time with his family," and although convential wisdom generally translates that to "I just got fired, either for my own stupidity or poltiical reasons," I think in this case it just means "the military developed a nice satellite remote that lets me control the president from the comfort of my living room."

On making new friends (although "keeping the old" sometimes goes out the window when you have to flush the blogroll)

Okay, so everybody welcome to the blogroll Kathy of Birmingham Blues. She's linked us a couple of times, she gives good post, and I even got to meet her at the Jefferson-Jackson dinner a few months ago and found that she was nice (but in a good way). The only reason she hasn't been linked before now? Because I suckity-suck-suck. And now I'm taking care of stuff.

On the good, the bad, and the Friday Random Ten

No comparison.

Okay, so I can't tell you how many times some random person has said to me, "ACG, you seem to have it together. You seem to know what's up. You're the sole arbiter of what's good and what isn't. Impart your wisdom upon the populace." And of course, I'm happy to do so, unless that person approached me while I had a book open and obviously was trying to read and had my earbuds in as a clear sign that I wasn't interacting with the outside world and when a person is keeping to herself like that and happy to be doing so, why would you go up and disturb her just to find out what's good and what isn't?

I make such information available now in the hopes that people'll leave me the crap alone on the airport shuttle.

What's good (for the week ending 8/9/07):

- The service at the Hilton St. Louis Downtown
- Jergens Natural Glow Firming Daily Moisturizer
- a grilled cheese sandwich made with equal parts comté and gouda
- a ceiling fan on a hot night
- The Bourne Ultimatum

What's not good:

- crying babies behind you on an airplane
- Alberto Gonzales

The Ten:

1. The Beastie Boys, "Shadrach"
2. Luigi Boccherini, "Rondo" (from Concerto in D Major)
3. Barenaked Ladies, "Light Up My Room"
4. Cameo, "Word Up!"
5. Sixpence None the Richer, "Breathe"
6. Gorillaz, "Rock the House"
7. Pet Shop Boys, "Heart"
8. Michael Bublé, "The More I See You"
9. Howie Day, "Sorry So Sorry"
10. Billy Stewart, "Summertime"

What's good for you this week?

On happy returns

This is why I'm hot.

Okay, so I'm back, and regular blogging can now resume (more or less as soon as I've cleared this pile of work-related crap off of my desk). The trip was largely uneventful, save for the opportunity to get voluntarily bumped in exchange for a voucher (sweet! Skokie, Illinois, here I come) and one evening at dinner where we... Well, we'll just say we didn't expect the joke to go as far as it did, and he was totally a sport. Anyway, my coworker and I did all of the fun touristy stuff, going to the top of the Arch and whatnot, and we conferenced, and we got home safely (and, in my case, about seven pounds heavier than when I left - hello to the gourmet hotel food), and that makes it a good trip, in my eyes.

I don't know if conferences were supposed to be as fun as ours was - the conference director did mention that ours was the first group to start a drinking game during a session ("Robust!" "Hey!") - but I'm fairly sure that a good time was had by all but that one prat from Kennesaw State who couldn't stop talking about how much he hated marketing people. I mean, as many conferences as I tagged along to with my dad, not once did any presenter ever pull out this video:



Good times.

The funny thing is that, the whole time we were in St. Louis, temperatures were in the mid-90s and people kept jokingly accusing us of bringing the hot, muggy Birmingham weather up with us on purpose. Then Wednesday, our plane lands in Birmingham and the captain informs us that the temperature here is 101. So I guess the joke is on... well, us, still. It's shoe-meltingly hot, and as miserable as I am, that's still with the benefit of central air conditioning.

And I guess my question would have to be, What the hell are you people doing when I'm not here? I turn my back for a second and a half, and suddenly temperatures are in the triple digits, the Dems caved and President Bush is listening in on people's phone calls, respectable Republicans are trying to go down on cops in public bathrooms, and K-Fed is filing for custody.

This is why we can't have nice things.

On further paucity of blogging

Okay, so blogging will be light this week, as I'm at (I just remembered, waking up in a hotel room and not my own room) a conference for work and will be lacking dicking-around-the-Internet time such as I often find at work. Which is to say, ahem, I never dick around the Internet at work, because I'm such a responsible state employee, and I actually deserve a raise for the amount of time I devote to my job, time that could be spent dicking around the Internet.

Anyway, see you on Thursday. Until I get back, here's a Westie in a baby swing:

On Rep. John Adams: This Is Your Soundtrack

Conan the Ovarian

Okay, so the Ohio state legislature is set to debate whether or not a woman has to be pregnant if the man who poked her requires it. Because the fetus is his property, and he has every right to store it in her uterus if he wants to.

Rose F. Kennedy, she of the Washington, D.C. Kennedys, once said that if men could get pregnant, abortion would be a sacrament. I say we test that theory.

Here's my proposal for the next fundie-backed health initiative, since women's health obviously isn't a priority: Male pregnancy. No, seriously. Carrying a baby for nine months is so very easy that a woman should be forced to do it against her will? Have at. If your goal really is a welcoming uterus for every embryo, and not just punishment for evil, slutty women, put your money where your mouth is and start looking for a way to put that welcoming uterus in a welcoming body. And any man would be happy to be pregnant, right?

Until then, you might want to start making birth control, including - nay, especially - emergency contraception, more widely available and affordable; make sex education comprehensive and universally required; establish programs to help and protect young, single mothers who've been abandoned and/or abused by their families; make quality, affordable health care for mother and fetus available not only pre- but also post-natally; provide incentives for businesses to offer child care, compassionate leave, and family leave; and close the gender wage gap.

And until then, Ohio Representative John Adams, this Friday Not-Even-Ten is dedicated to you for your ceaseless devotion to forced pregnancy for slutty women. Should I find myself unwed and pregnant in Ohio, count on me to name you as father. Anyone else?

The Ten:

1. Cat Stevens, "There Goes My Baby"
2. Was (Not Was), "Baby I Need Your Loving"
3. Rodelheim Hartreim Project, "Papa"
4. Athenaeum, "If Baby's Gone"
5. Everclear, "Father of Mine"
6. Madison Avenue, "Don't Cal Me Baby"
7. Annie Sellick, "My Heart Belongs to Daddy" (NB: But My Uterus Belongs to the Ohio State Legislature)
8. Johnny Cash, "Daddy Sang Bass"
9. Fountains of Wayne, "... Baby One More Time"
10. Smash Mouth, "Can't Get Enough of You Baby"

Your Ten goes in comments. And guys, just out of curiosity here: If medical science could make such a thing possible, would you voluntarily get pregnant? If your girlfriend/wife couldn't/didn't want to be pregnant, would you do it for her?

On poking and owning

Okay, so the Ohio state legislature is working on a bill that would put any source of fresh sperm in charge of any uterus said sperm encountered. Under House Bill 287, any woman seeking an abortion would have to produce a signed note from the sperm donor saying that it's okay to terminate the pregnancy.

In other words, if a woman doesn't want to be pregnant, but her abusive husband/date rapist/stepfather/creepy pastor/one-night stand/vindictive ex won't sign the paper, that uterus is going to be "no vacancy" for the next nine months, and there's not a damn thing she can do about it. Why? Because he planted his man flag in her uterus, dammit, he planted his seed, and whether or not he even wants the kid, he has every right to make her endure the risks and hardships of carrying it against her will.

Luckily, there's a very simple solution to this problem. If a man and a woman shared, say, a special edition box set of Seinfeld DVDs, and she decided she didn't want it anymore, she wouldn't throw it away - she'd give it to the man. And he'd by no means force her to hold on to them, just because he wanted to keep them - he'd take them off her hands.

So if a woman is pregnant with a man's fetus, and she no longer wants to be, the reasonable thing to do would be to give the fetus to the man, let him finish gestating it in his uterus, and everyone’s happy.

At that point, of course, it's the man's responsibility to provide adequate facilities to raise a fetus to adulthood, but that shouldn't be too much trouble, right? It's no more than he was expecting of the woman who had custody of the fetus in the first place. The Ohio state legislature is right in saying that a man deserves a say in the disposition of any fetus that's half-his. It just doesn't make sense that he'd have any right to store it in another person's uterus without her permission.

On accountability and blaming

Okay, so reader Duff has asked me to comment (and Doug has beaten me to it) on the helicopter crash in Phoenix. Two news helicopters covering the police pursuit of a carjacked truck collided in mid-air, killing both pilots and both cameramen, and it is now being suggested that the carjacker should be held accountable for the crash in addition to his other charges.

While I have nothing but sympathy for the families of the men who died, all I can do is quote a friend of mine who's a helo pilot: "The pilot in command is ultimately responsible for his aircraft." This isn't a situation where a police officer responding to a call was struck in the line of duty, or where a fire fighter was killed trying to put out a fire at a meth lab; those camera crews were there not out of civic necessity but out of a desire to turn a profit by providing the hottest available footage of the car chase. That they were there at all was their own choice, and that they crashed into each other was a tragedy but not a crime.

The carjacker committed a crime (probably several crimes) in stealing a car and running from the police, and he endangered a lot of people in so doing, but this crash, tragic as it was, was not a direct or even indirect result of those crimes. He should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law for the crimes he did commit. Justice only works when it's used to address actual crimes, not when it's twisted to pile on criminals because we really resent them for what they did. It's a subtle but crucial distinction.

On the single woman's apartment (because, of course, they're all the same)

Okay, so Jill at Feministe points us to a Gawker post listing what they're calling "singlefiers" - those telltale signs around the average bachelorette pad that one is, in fact, single (they specify that this means the apartment holds a single woman and not a couple; they don't mention whether a single woman with a steady boyfriend would have or lack said signs). Commenters have added their own "singlefiers" to the list.

Maybe it's just that I live in southside Birmingham and not Manhattan. Maybe it's that I don't like Cosmo and have never watched Sex in the City as a guide to life, relationships, and fashion. Maybe I am, in fact, less than a woman, and by merely conforming to the stereotypical heteronormativity of this list, I could find myself fashionable and no longer single.

God, I hope I don't have to.

I've done the courtesy of bolding those "singlefiers" that apply to me; if I feel motivated, I might even add actual photos to prove that I'm not just blowing smoke.

Gawker sez:

Piles of magazines everywhere, comprised of tons of pretentious ones that are clearly untouched and then severely thumbed-through Vogues and Luckys
Overflowing shoe rack and nothing in the fridge
Scented candles
Slovenly heaps of little-used makeups in the bathroom
Stuffed animals in the bed
Cat hair on the furniture
Cat smell
Cabinets full of mugs featuring the likeness of lady who looks like those hypertrophically-limbed Daily Candy illustrations, bearing the legend "I Love Shopping" or whatnot
Anything pink
Ornamental pillows
Unedited bookshelves, esp. if they include He's Just Not That Into You or anything along those lines
Nair
Lite cottage cheese in the fridge
Anything lite or diet around. Cases of Diet Coke. Weight Watchers 'Just 2 Points' bars
Inspirational or thinspirational things on the fridge
Framed posters
Handbag tree (NB: However, a tree that grows handbags? I'd be all over)

And commenters add:

Birth Control Packet with pills for Monday and Tuesday still in the case (it's Wednesday)
Greeting Cards taped to the wall like art
Balk
Madonna's Immaculate Collection
Your vibrator on your bed because, face it, nobody's coming over
Dried roses
'Emergency' pack of cigarettes
Copious empty wine bottles (preferrably Chardonnay)
Bridget Jones' Diary
Special DVD edition of Pride and Prejudice
The movie "How To Lose a Guy in 10 Days"
Furniture with slipcovers
Wall of 5x7 photo prints/ripped out magazine ads
The word "thinspirational" written anywhere
Workout DVDs that are kind of sassy--Strip Aerobics, etc.
Crystal Light
Tampon packages in plain view
A little basket by the sofa filled with frayed cat toys
A DVD collection that includes "Grey Gardens." A "Sex and the City" DVD is in the player
Ceiling lights that don't work merely because the bulb burned out
Two-liter white wine bottles
Don't forget the cats
Ironing board in the bedroom never quite makes it back to the closet... because what's the point? No one's in the bedroom anyway
Fuzzy slippers
Potted plants in various phases of dying
The ever-present laptop on the coffee table
Baskets of clean laundry that are folded but not put away (bonus points for underwear)
Inspirational sayings scrawled/printed onto white paper and taped up around the room
Numerous reminders to visitors/yourself of where you've traveled
That complete series boxset of "Friends"
Dead or wilting plants
A 26oz bottle of gin in the freezer, next to the Lean Cuisine (NB: A handle of vodka, actually, but close enough)
A box of white wine in the fridge, left over from a friend's wedding shower (actually in my and my roommate's fridge last year)
Underpants on the bedroom floor from days ago
Cookie dough in the fridge as dinner
A&E's "Pride and Prejudice" on the coffee table, and in the DVD
Any of the following in collection: Sleepless in Seattle, The Notebook, Say Anything, Serendipity, or that one with Hilary Duff and Heather Locklear

My question: Who are these people, and how does one get a job as a perpetual Romantic Comedy Adapted From Last Year's Chick-Lit Best-Seller Extra? Does it pay well? Is it exhausting, living a cliche? Is there a supervisor to come in on Thursday mornings and say, "Uh-oh, I don't see a single bottle of white zinfandel, and that issue of Harper's has clearly been read. And where's that cat we told you to get? You're definitely getting marked down for that."

And not to get judgey or anything, but do people not get tired of living in squalor? Come on, folks, it's two floors down to the dumpster, it's four feet across the room to the hamper; dirty underwear and overflowing trash cans are not required decorative accents, even if you're single.

Of course, the Gawker comment thread is hardly a random sample; it makes sense that Gawker readers might live lifestyles somewhat like its writers, and that Feministe readers might live more like blogger Jill than like Carrie Bradshaw. But even allowing for sample error, what gives? Is that extensive list of identifiers simply a factor of the average single woman's lifestyle, or do women live that way because they feel they're expected to?

How 'bout it, single gal readers? Am I really missing out by not living on a set dressed by Candace Bushnell, or is the apartment full of "singlefiers" more stereotype than reality? What's in your fridge?

On J.K. Rowling: This Is Your Soundtrack

Okay, so most people who get their own Friday Not-Even-Random Ten do so because they've screwed up, usually exhibiting some monumental act of stupidity that turns them into a figure for ridicule. I'm not going to do that this week, because I need to get something off my chest.

I love the very concept of Harry Potter.

Not that you couldn't tell, probably, from Wednesday's post, but I do. I love the books because they're a good story well told, and that's my minimum standard for an entertaining book (add complex and identifiable characters and realistic moral/ethical/humanistic struggles in a fantastic environment, both of which these books have, and I'll bump it up to "good book"). I love the movies because, occasionally spotty acting aside, the directing is usually good and the art direction and musical score are wholly fantastic in every single scene. I love the stories because they're feminist, because Professor McGonagall kicks ass and Qudditch teams are gender-integrated and Hermione is smart and powerful and Emma Watson is a feminist (if only "a bit of" one). I love the concept of the empire, because J.K. Rowling started out as a single mother sitting in a cafe, trying to figure out how to make rent and feed her kid and scribbling a story about a kid who learns he's a wizard on a paper napkin, and now she's a millionaire. I love that kids are reading - reading anything - because I know that when I was growing up, I was the only kid I knew who really liked to read, and I felt bad for everyone who hadn't learned to love it like I did.

And, okay, I love it because only something like Harry Potter could cheese off the fundies this much:



"Had it been in the Old Testament, Harry Potter would have been put to death!" Like he doesn't have enough trouble with Voldemort coming after him all the damn time.

Anyway, that's why this Friday Not-Even-Random Ten is dedicated to J.K. Rowling, but in a good way, because not many books will keep me awake, reading, into the wee hours of the morning, and she's written seven of them. Because if it takes giving up my PowerBook and writing on cocktail napkins for the rest of my life, I'll do it, just for a quarter of what she has - and I'm not even talking money. She's done something awesome, and I hope she's got another universe tucked up in her brain right now, because I'm going to start going into withdrawal.

The Ten:

1. Carmen Consoli, "Fino all'ultimo"
2. Cake, "Open Book"
3. Kula Shaker, "Magic Theatre"
4. Depeche Mode, "World in My Eyes"
5. Ella Fitzgerald, "Witchcraft"
6. Eminem, "Lose Yourself"
7. The Police, "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic"
8. Evanescence, "Imaginary"
9. The Faders, "No Sleep Tonight"
10. Garbage, "When I Grow Up"

And here's one last little tidbit for those of you who have read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (or don't intend to do so, or don't particularly care about knowing the ending) - it is rather spoilery - Potterdamerung.

Your Ten, random or no, and you guilty literary pleasures go in comments.

On doing it for the kids

Okay, so in a bipartisan effort, the Senate Finance Committee has greenlighted a bill that would expand the Safe Children's Health Insurance Program. The bill would increase funding for the program $35 billion over the next five years to $60 billion, decreasing the number of uninsured children in the country by 4.1 million.

But President Bush is going to veto the bill.

He's going to veto it because the added funding would be financed by an increase in federal excise tax on tobacco products, raising the taxes on each pack from 39 cents to $1.

That's not the only reason, though:

“The proposal would dramatically expand the Children’s Health Insurance Program, adding nonpoor children to the program, and more than doubling the level of spending,” Mr. Fratto said. “This will have the effect of encouraging many to drop private coverage, to go on the government-subsidized program.”

That's right: This program must be stopped, because it might insure too many children! And in an insurance market that has left more than 9 million children uninsured, obviously, insured children is a... bad thing.

Without this bill, SCHIP is set to expire September 30, yanking the insurance out from under nearly 6 million children. But to a man who doesn't mind vetoing troop funding in the middle of a war, a bunch of uninsured children probably doesn't even register.

On greed and comeuppance

Okay, so as unimpressed as I continue to be with the iPhone (although I still think it's a cool concept), this just gave me a chuckle (a rueful chuckle, sure, but a chuckle just the same).



Yes, the charming lady in pink came to the AT&T store with $16,000 cash and a plan: roll up 15 minutes before the store opens, buy the head spot in line, and walk out of the store with $100,000 worth of iPhones to sell on eBay. Sure enough, she bought the first spot in line away from a kid (who'd been waiting for twelve hours) for $800, was first through the door as soon as the gates rolled up...

... and learned that Apple had instituted a strict one-phone-per-customer policy.

The kid, who made it into the store and bought a phone despite no longer being first in line, got a free phone out of the $800 deal, as well as a full package of iPhone accessories. The news report didn't mention whether or not The Charming Lady in Pink bothered to buy her one allotted phone. I guess she didn't hang around for another interview.

Feministe identifies this as "what is wrong with America," and while I agree, I also have to argue that it's what is oh, so right.

On blogging paucity

Okay, so I do apologize for my lack of posting recently. I'm currently on self-imposed media silence until I finish the final Harry Potter book, and I have this ridiculous fear that I'm going to check Think Progress for the latest on the war in Iraq and they will have, for some reason, revealed whether Harry gets it in the end.

Right now, I'm about 200 pages from the end, at the part where they're in the room with the guy and the girl does the thing, so I should be back up to blogging speed by the end of the evening. And even though I'm not going to be so much as checking comments until then, the first person to even try and spoil it for me is getting banned, and possibly tracked down and killed.

Update: I finished it. And it was awesome.

On Friday Random and Not-Even-Random Tens

Okay, so I shamefully neglected to Ten randomly last Friday due to the absolute insanity that is my work schedule. Seriously, there are no words for the busy-ness that is my work day. But I take time out today to give you not one but two Tens, one random, one not, to make up for my prior neglect.

First, a Not-Even-Random Ten in honor of Wednesday's awesome Richard Cheese show. Here are, in my opinion, the top ten songs performed by the man in the tiger-striped dinner jacket:

1. Richard Cheese, "Closer"
2. Richard Cheese, "Sunday Bloody Sunday" (all of, like, twelve measures)
3. Richard Cheese, "Creep"
4. Richard Cheese, "Holiday in Cambodia"
5. Richard Cheese, "Gin and Juice"
6. Richard Cheese, "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" theme
7. Richard Cheese, "Hey Ya"
8. Richard Cheese, "Spiderman" theme
9. Richard Cheese, "Another Brick in the Wall Pt. 2"
10. Richard Cheese, "Toxic"

And here are ten tracks chosen at random, as those crazy kids seem to be doing these days:

1. Injected, "Faithless"
2. The La's, "There She Goes"
3. Train, "Drops of Jupiter"
4. Barenaked Ladies, "Call and Answer"
5. Annie Sellick, "Midnight Sun"
6. Madonna, "Open Your Heart to Me"
7. The Capitol Steps, "Bill's Way"
8. Black Eyed Peas, "Hey Mama"
9. Dixie Chicks, "Favorite Year"
10. Lauryn Hill, "Lost Ones"

any of which would make awesome lounge-music covers.

And what about you? How are you doing?

On why my life is better than yours

Stay classy, Atlanta.

Okay, so yesterday, I put on a low-cut top and teased up my hair and hauled ass across two states to see Richard Cheese and Lounge Against the Machine's "Drinkchronicty" Farewell Tour at the Roxy in Atlanta. I expected it to be awesome. My expectations were met and exceeded, and now I have to figure out what comes after "awesome," because my vocabulary proves insufficient. Suggestions go in comments.

The fuzzy cell phone picture above is the clearest shot I was able to get because cell phone cameras don't focus too well up close. The first thing Dick did when he got onstage was to rearrange the crowd, shuffling the guys to the back and moving the women forward so as to create an unbroken line of breasts across the foot of the stage. As a result, I spent the entire concert literally close enough to reach up and grab his tuxedoed crotch. I didn't; others did.

But outside of the obvious comedy inherent in the act itself (the musical act, not the act of groping Richard Cheese, although that was kind of funny too), the evening was awesome because the music was good. The musicians were all really, really talented (and the current Frank Feta is a hottie-hot-hottie; it's hard to tell from pictures), the arrangements were catchy, and Dick's voice is really pleasant to listen to, whether or not he's singing about wanting to fuck you like/with an animal. Had I not had to haul reverse ass immediately after the show in order to make it to work this morning, I would have loved hanging out with them at Dante's afterward. And I swear I wouldn't have gone home with Frank Feta.

I'm pretty sure. Like, ninety percent.

Maybe eighty.

And that's why my life is better than yours.

On irresponsible actions and consequences

Okay, so I know posting has been sparse lately, and that's because I'm insanely, insanely busy at work. Insanely busy at work. I should be working right now. But I got a link to a blog post, and it had a link to a police report (pdf, not for the faint of heart or recent of lunch), and the post also had a bunch of comments, and I thought I should make a comment and then get back to work, so here:

The Minnesota Star-Tribune has the sordid details, and they’re as bad as you might imagine. A cell phone video captured a football player allegedly ejaculating onto the face of a woman who, drunk off eight shots of vodka, was hovering somewhere around a .30 BAC, could not possibly have consented, and has no memory of the incident.

The case has a decent chance of prosecution, as one of the football players recorded the whole thing on his cell phone, providing key evidence for the prosecution. U r so smrt!

If true: assholes. That’s all we can say. Total assholes all around. You’re all complete fucking shitbag die-in-a-ditch-now assholes.

Grosser than gross, right? Read the comments.

I’m gonna have to go ahead here and be the guy who can’t help but point out that if you let football players convince you into doing tons of shots, and you’re pretty much the only one doing them, this is the sort of shit they’re going to pull on you.

----------

Soooo, Victim A gets rip-snorting drunk and orders the triple baconator, but it’s the frosty she’s upset about?

May I never have a daughter. Evar. Nevar.

----------

I absolutely don’t want to sound like one of those “She was wearing a short skirt, she was asking for it” guys, but I have to agree with Brian@#9. Most intelligent people, around the fifth or sixth shot, will start pondering the question of whether the gentleman proffering said shots might only be looking for something inert and pliable to stick his Golden Gopher in.

Now, something that bugs me more than anything about rape cases is sentences that begin, "I'm not saying she was asking for it, BUT..." "I'm not saying this woman was to blame for her own rape, BUT..." Because generally, the rest of the sentence outlines the way in which she was somehow responsible for her own rape. "I'm not saying she was asking for it, BUT she sure acted irresponsibly when she..."

Sure, she acted irresponsibly. Getting that looped with a bunch of strangers? Not smart. Eight shots in a row? Not wise for any woman not built like Chyna.

You know what else isn't smart? Two beers in a hot football stadium in the sun. Eighty in a 70 zone. Accepting a check from a buyer on CraigsList. Going running without a cell phone. These are all irresponsible; some can even result in death. They're also things that happen every day and don't result in death. That's because speeding, or drinking in the sun, or running without a way to call the police, doesn't cause death. Sometimes there are other factors, sometimes things just happen, sometimes people are lucky, sometimes people aren't.

The punishment for irresponsible actions isn't rape.

Of course, we should all try to act responsibly. Of course, we should all look out for our own safety. But we don't do that, not all the time, and the price of failing to do that should not be getting gang raped and ejaculated on by a bunch of football players.

This woman was RAPED, and the reason that she was raped was that the men she was with were RAPISTS. If she'd had eight shots with non-rapists - if she'd had eight shots with eight football players who weren't rapists - she wouldn't have gotten raped. The shots were not the deciding factor in her rape.

It's a story I've told before, and it's not one that I'm proud of, but it's pertinent in this and many other cases: My junior year of college, I went out drinking with my roommates and got stumbling, shrieking, barfing drunk. My roommates, gems that they were, tucked me into a cab to send me home. In the cab already were six Marines from the nearby Naval supply school. Six Marines plus one very, very, very drunk girl. And not only did I get home safely, but as they got out of the cab at their stop, one of the Marines handed a twenty to the driver and said, "Make sure she gets home safely."

What I did was irresponsible. What my roommates did was irresponsible. But I did get home safely, because those Marines were NOT RAPISTS.

And the reason - the only reason - that that woman didn't get home safely was that those football players were.

On shrinking the government

Okay, so I'm an enthusiastic and unashamed therapygoer myself, and what's more, I don't think I've ever met a single person who wouldn't benefit from a couple or five couch sessions with a professional to help straighten out their heads and articulate the truth that they've been unwilling to tell themselves. And no one would benefit more from a little head-straightening and truth-articulating than the folks currently in charge of our government. Now, I won't pretend to be a licensed therapist, but I've spent enough time with them to have picked up a thing or two to my own benefit and the benefit of others.

I will dispense this advice now.

1. You can't control anyone's actions but your own.

A progress report due out this week is expected to report no progress in Iraq since the surge. The president has said that he doesn't intend to withdraw troops or even shift his strategy in light of the new information and that critics should just wait for General Petraeus's report in September. Then he once refreshed the tired old implication that Iraq was involved in the September 11 attacks. But mostly, the message was "stay the course and give the surge a chance to work."

Here's the problem, six months into the surge: It's not not-working because of the troops (although their very presence is seen as an irritant by many of the people they're bound to protect). It's not-working because of the Iraqi government. We can send as many or as few troops as we want, but the progress that needs to be made needs to be made by Nouri al Maliki and his pals. More Iraqi police and soldiers need to be trained, but they also need to be held accountable, to be required to show up for work, to be properly armed and armored, and to be loyal to the government and the people of Iraq rather than to the militias - and that's something that Iraq has to do. The militias themselves need to be put down and Muqtada al Sadr stripped of his power and his influence instead of just shuffled around until the heat is off and his armies can rise again - and that's something that Iraq has to do. The government needs to find a way to deal with religious freedom, civil conflict, and oil revenues - and that's something Iraq has to do.

George, you can plead with them. You can bargain with them. You can threaten to withdraw troops or withhold aid. You can negotiate with them. You can send advisors to help them plan to disarm and dissolve the militias, to build the police forces and the Army, and to distribute oil revenues, and they might be good plans. But what you can't do is make them do what they need to do. You can only control what you do. And when they choose not to do what they need to do, as they have been doing for two years now, you have only two choices: to keep troops there or to begin a phased withdrawal. You can't make the Iraqi government do what they're supposed to do, but you can control whether or not American troops are in danger while they don't do it.

2. If you keep doing what you're doing, you're going to keep getting what you're getting.

In an effort to shake us up and keep us good and scared when we might start to be not-scared, Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff said Tuesday that chances are good for a terrorist attack this summer. He said there wasn't evidence of imminent attack, but that his "gut feeling" and past terrorist activity patterns made a "spectacular" attack more likely.

You look at their activities around the world: bombings in North Africa from Al Qaeda, conflict in Somalia with radical Islamist groups contending for control over Somalia, training activity taking place in South Asia, the Taliban continuing to try to regain control of parts of Afghanistan.

I think if you look at that picture you see an enemy that is improving itself just as we're improving ourselves. They can't afford to remain static just as we can't afford to remain static. Our edge is technology and the vigilance of the ordinary citizen.

....

I think we do see a greater span of activity in South Asia, so we do worry about whether they are rebuilding their capabilities. We strike at them, we degrade them, but they rebuild. All these things give me kind of a gut feeling, not that I have a specific threat that I have in mind right now, but we are entering a period of increased vulnerability.

"We strike at them, we degrade them, but they rebuild." It's a pattern. "[Y]ou see an enemy that is improving itself just as we're improving ourselves." Pattern. We're in a war with the sole purported goal of fighting them over there so we don't have to fight them over here, and what we get is... patterns. Terrorist activity in north Africa, Taliban resurgence in Afghanistan, "spectacular" summertime terror threats in the US, and we degrade them, but they rebuild. Over and over and over.

Do something different, y'all. If what you're doing only knocks them down a little bit, and then they come back with a new plan or strike from a different direction or, heck, rebuild exactly where they were before with nobody saying a thing about it (Taliban, I'm looking at you), then what you're doing isn't working. We've been "staying the course" since 2003, and since 2003, we've been getting the same dismal results. Don't stick with a bum plan. My dad likes to say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I'm just sayin'.

3. You teach people how to treat you.

If you insist on being treated with respect, people will treat you that way. If people give you crap and you take it, they'll learn that you accept crap, and they'll continue giving you crap. If Alberto Gonzales lies on the stand and otherwise obstructs justice, Congress, and you don't call him on it, he's going to keep lying. Because he knows he can get away with lying to you. When Bush tells you you can't talk to his aides because he's extra special and above the law, Congress, you know that he isn't, but if you don't tell him otherwise, he's going to keep stonewalling you. Because he knows he can get away with stonewalling you. When the White House continues pushing the myth that Iraq had a hand in the September 11 attacks, new media, and you don't call them on it, they're going to keep lying to you. Because they know that can get away with lying to you.

The only way to stop the lying, to make them respect you and stop treating you like an idiot and/or particularly gullible toddler, is to call them on it. Call them on it every time. Let them know that you're paying attention and that you aren't afraid to use the brains God gave you and the free speech the Constitution guarantees you. You have to respect yourselves before anyone else will respect you.

4. When you find yourself on the wrong road, the worst thing you can do is keep driving.

Listen, President Bush, we know you've got a lot on your mind right now. You're in the middle of this war that isn't going nearly as well as Dick and Karl told you it would, and you're getting the blame for it. You're trying your hardest to show up your daddy and prove to him that you're just as smart and competent and take-charge as your brother Jeb, but every time you do, you end up screwing it up and looking even more incompetent in a real sitcom kind of way. Your supporters are shearing off. You recently pardoned Scooter Libby so that Dick Cheney, your surrogate father figure, won't be mad at you. George, you made a little girl cry.

You know that something is wrong. You can surely sense that something is very, very wrong. And I know that right now, you're trying to go along to get along, to do whatever you can to skate until the inauguration in 2009 when you officially won't have to worry about any of this terrorism crap or immigration crap or healthcare crap or global warming crap or any of the other crap that people seem to want you to care about. But putting on the blinkers and driving resolutely forward is not the way to go, George. Right now, you're gearing yourself up for a legacy as The President Who Screwed Everything Up So Badly We're Still Trying to Quantify the Fallout. If you want to avoid that fate, the only way to do it is to stop dead in your tracks this second and reevaluate. You need to talk with some people who know how to deal with these things - swallow your pride and talk to your dad's folks, for God's sake - and figure out what you want your legacy to be and how you can get there from where you are.

I can recommend a couple of therapists, if you'd like.

On Friday Random Ten

Okay, so a high-speed chase led police along the Florida-Alabama border Tuesday night as they followed a Chevy Monte Carlo, which reached speeds in excess of 100 miles an hour before crashing inside the Gulf Shores city limits.

The driver was under the influence of alcohol.

She was also under the influence of being barely tall enough to see over the steering wheel, being out past curfew on a school night, and using Lindsay Lohan as a role model, 'cause she was 11 years old.

They start 'em young in Alabama.

The Ten:

1. Ella Fitzgerald, "Isn't It Romantic?"
2. Dion, "Runaround Sue"
3. Coldplay, "Trouble"
4. Pytor Ilyich Tchaikovsky, "Danse hongroise" from Swan Lake
5. Barenaked Ladies, "Light Up My Room"
6. Abbey Lincoln (featuring Stan Getz), "Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?"
7. U2, "Like a Song..."
8. Cake, "Race Car Ya-Yas"
9. Lit, "My Own Worst Enemy"
10. Queen, "Fat Bottomed Girls"

"Race Car Ya-Yas" indeed. Actually, a couple of those look Not-Even-Random. Anyway, your Ten, random, not-even-random, or unintentionally not-so-random, go in comments.

Unrelated: I try to avoid doing this, because this is a blog and not a billboard, but: S. Hugo, if you're out there, drop a girl a line to let her know you haven't been eaten by sharks.

On the satisfaction that comes with gloriously surpassed expectations

OMG PONIES!!!!11!!1!

Okay, so the thing about opinions is that they're subjective, so there's not a lot that can make an opinion wrong. With that in mind, I won't try and pretend that Josh at Martians Attacking Indianapolis (BBNE) was wrong in his thorough panning of Transformers, just that we really did see different things. Or maybe it's just that we were looking for different things.

When I say that I just saw the movie, I mean that I just got home fifteen minutes ago from the 11:00 p.m. showing and remain so thoroughly pumped that there's no point in trying to go to sleep. It was just that awesome. I had a fantastic time, and the small but enthusiastic group of friends with whom I saw the movie gave it equally glowing reviews. A movie like this, I think, draws most of its value from its sheer capacity to entertain, and this movie was over-damn-flowing with entertainment.

I'm not gonna lie to you: The extended periods of steadicam were enough to make a girl yarkish, and the director seemed rather unable to decide which branch of the military was being represented by the dudes in BDUs. Also, the writing in the very first scene (and, to be honest, several other scenes) wasn't terribly convincing to me, nor was the delivery. So, see? I can be objective.

And objectively, this. Movie. Rocked. My. Ass.

Let me count the ways:

- The very first scene gave me Josh Duhamel, Tyrese Gibson, and Amaury Nolasco all sweaty and cammi-ed up. It was hard to believe that the movie could get better from there, but it did.
- Shia LeBeouf sold the hell out of every single scene he was in. I'm reluctant to spoil, because I want you all to run out and see this movie for yourselves, but if you're young enough/old enough to remember geeky alienation at school, the joys of one's very first car (no matter how crappy), young unrequited love, or the first time your planet was invaded by alien robots, you'll identify fully with this guy. And in terms of comedic timing, line delivery, all those little throwaway lines, facial expressions, everything, he was a joy to watch every time he was onscreen.
- The special effects were incredible. Doug remarked on the way home that rendering the robots must have been a real task, because unlike the cartoon, this had to have some element of realism. They had to be able to account for every single piece of that car/truck/plane/helicopter/boom box when it transformed into a moving robot. And they did it. And it was awesome. Good CGI, in my opinion, is when you never sit back and say, "Wow, that's just what an alien robot would look like" - because it's clean enough to convince you that you're looking at an actual alien robot. This CGI was beyond good.
- Optimus Prime: "My bad."
- I actually cried during the movie. I did, I'll admit it. One of the perks of being a girl is that I can get away with that sort of thing. When the Autobots first gathered and unfolded, when that red and blue truck pulled up and I knew right away what it was going transform into and then it did, when Optimus Prime spoke for the first time, I teared up. I don't really know why. I'm thinking it was a combination of the skillful CGI and the childhood nostalgia; basically, what I was watching onscreen was escapist joy from my childhood in wholly realistic and convincing living color before me, and I welled up.
- Another time I teared up was during (spoiler? Perhaps) the car chase between Bumblebee and Barricade. I don't know why that made me teary, though. Car girl. Can't explain it.
- No smooching in the heat of battle. Seriously, who has the time or the inclination to make out in the sooty, smoky, filthy, greasy, sweaty middle of combat? When such a potential moment arose, one of the young theatregoers behind me said aloud, "Oh, come on. Just don't." And the characters obligingly obliged by... not.
- This movie was surprisingly feminist, and not in an anvilicious, beat-you-over-the-head kind of way. The romantic opposite (and this might be the slightest bit of a spoiler) is not only a stunning young woman but also a gearhead (and a brunette, which matters to some of us). And one of the code breakers mainly responsible for figuring out what, exactly, is going on with the alien robots is a young woman. And these young women do things beyond the usual female role of standing there, looking pretty, screaming, getting fetchingly dirty, and kissing the hero after he saves the world. These women contribute to the action of the film in a significant and non-contrived way, and I really enjoyed that.
- Funny! Lots of funny moments. The movie is really funny.
- They set themselves up for a sequel. This is important to me because I absolutely need to see another Transformers movie. Perhaps with so much of the crucial exposition taken care of in the first movie, there'll be room for a leetle more character development in any sequel(s), but rest assured that I'll be there on opening night.

As a matter of fact, I'll probably - make that definitely - see this one again, because I just had so much fun. I totally respect Josh's opinion on the movie, and God knows he has a lot of experience as a reviewer in both a professional and amateur capacity. My far more homespun approach asks one question: Did I have a really great time? And the answer, in this case, is an enthusiastic hells yes.

On now being this many (and other special occasions)

Okay, so it came to my attention today that I missed a couple of very important observances in the past couple of weeks, and that I need to rectify them right away. How shameful of me to forget:

Canada Day. Michael rolled over in bed this morning, pulled the sheet modestly above his waist, and reminded me that July 1 marked the 140th anniversary of Canada's establishment as a self-governing dominion. I was so ashamed at forgetting such an important holiday that I was forced to make it up to him, at length, and then I was late for work. As an apology, allow me to direct you to this loving tribute to the fine cultural contributions of our neighbors to the north.

The Stanley Cup. Okay, I know I'm the only person here who actually watches and/or cares about ice hockey, but it's my only good source of sweaty, athletic man-violence between the Super Bowl and the college football preseason. And the Anaheim (formerly Mighty) Ducks' 6-2 victory over the Ottowa Senators in the fifth game of the championship series did, in fact, matter to me, as well as approximately six other hockey fans. Good on ya, fellas.

My own third blogiversary. That's right, my blog turned three on June 21 and I didn't even remember. This blog will be in therapy until it's thirty, and I know I'm going to be hearing about this for the next decade. "Hey, ACG, remember the time you forgot my birthday?" Anyway, in past years, I've celebrated the occasion by reviewing the past year, seeing what has changed and what hasn't, appraising the state of society and the world and stuff, and you know what? That stuff's depressing. The fact that more than a thousand US troops have died in Iraq since last blogiversary and the government still isn't any closer to anything resembling an exit strategy is depressing. The fact that the US is moving not forward but, in fact, backward on issues like reproductive freedom is depressing. The fact that Laura freaking Mallory is still obsessed with her anti-Harry Potter campaign is - there isn't even a word for it. "Depressing" falls short.

So instead of looking back, I'm going to look forward. Forward to the future. Forward to potential, to things yet to come. Forward to the next year in the life of Practically Harmless.

July 2007: The Richard Cheese Farewell Tour hits Atlanta, and you-know-who has awesome seats (hey, we're starting out slowly here. Besides, I take great pleasure in the small things).
August 2007: My department finally hires a new director, who is so entranced by my work that s/he gives me a considerable raise, allowing me to pay off my credit card, fix my car, and buy lots of shoes. Lots of shoes.
September 2007: General Petraeus gives his report on the progress of the war in Iraq. Report includes the words "punks," "ridamndiculous," "picklewipes," and "stunning - verging on criminal - lack of foresight and planning." Congress debates on whether to continue funding.
October 2007: While touring in Italy, Michael Bublé pauses onstage in the middle of "Feelin' Good" to propose marriage to Your Humble Blogger. Your Humble Blogger humbly accepts.
November 2007: Thanksgiving dinner featuring Mama G's glorious cheese grits and yet another righteous whupping of Georgia Tech by their betters.
December 2007: Can't tell you. It's a secret. But it's going to be awesome. Oh, also? Christmas.
January 2008: During State of the Union address, President Bush pronounces "nuclear" the way it's spelled. Sam Donaldson passes out from shock.
February 2008: Dick Cheney eats a baby on live TV.
March 2008: US troops capture al-Qaeda Number Two in Iraq. Over the next three weeks, US troops capture six more Number Twos and report confirmed deaths of another three. Muqtada al-Sadr laughs, eats figs, and fails to go to the dentist.
April 2008: Nancy Pelosi beats John Boehner (R-Weenie) into unconsciousness with a tube sock full of nickels on the House floor. House passes funding bill with hard benchmarks.
May 2008: President Bush vows to veto funding bill. Nancy Pelosi hunts under sofa cushions for more nickels.
June 2008: Blogiversary Number Four. Laura Mallory struck with amnesia following mysterious broom incident. World peace.

Here's to another one.

On Surface Pretty

What do you mean, we don't get to keep the fans?

Okay, so I read a book, when I was younger, that took place in Scotland and included a scene where characters repainted a community center for an upcoming visit by the Queen. As they painted, the main character wondered if Her Majesty thought the whole world smelled like fresh paint.

One might wonder the same thing about Her Majesty The First Lady:

It was Thursday, only twenty-four hours left before the First Lady's visit, and a work crew from the U.S. embassy was installing electrical outlets in two classrooms. The next day, the outlets would power the fans to cool Mrs. Bush and the rest of the crowd. But, like most schools in Mali, the Mandela School doesn't have enough money for electricity, so the power cord from these new outlets led out the windows to a mobile generator the embassy brought over and hid out back.

Rebecca Rhodes is the project manager for the Teacher Training Via Radio program, which is entirely funded by President Bush's African education initiative. For two weeks, Rhodes has worked with White House security and communications crews to make the school picture perfect for the First Lady's visit.

REBECCA RHODES: So Mrs. Bush's limousine and the limousine of Mali's First Lady would come through the door there at the front of the school, and then she will walk down this lovely gravel (laughs) that we have just put down.

GOSS: About the gravel: USAID bought it so that the First Lady wouldn't slip on the mud in the courtyard. The gravel just covers the portion of the courtyard Mrs. Bush would see....

Demba Bundi is a high school teacher who works with the Teacher Training Via Radio program.... He was ... struck by some selective repainting on the walls surrounding the school.

DEMBA BUNDI: Only the entrance door has been painted new, because that's where everybody gets in, but the rest of the wall, it's dirty, and you have all these American gangster-boy kind of graffiti on the wall, and nobody seems to care about that....

Of course, it would be far too much to actually let the school, say, keep the generators and the electrical outlets and the fans once they'd put on such a nice show.

GOSS: Yesterday morning, I returned to the Mandela School with teacher Demba Bundi. The courtyard was once again covered in trash, this time water bottle labels and doughnut cartons from the First Lady's visit. Bundi looked at the scene and shook his head.

BUNDI: Mali is a poor country. We're not ashamed of saying it, we're poor. But despite the poverty level, we still want to impress the West, which to me is pointless. If I am poor and sleeping on the dirt and you're coming to visit me, let's hang out on the dirt. And maybe I'll have a better chance to get some help from you.

GOSS: We went into the classroom that had been electrically fitted. The embassy had removed the fans, the furniture, and the generator the same afternoon the First Lady visited. Even the outlets had been pulled out of the wall.

I'm assuming they were allowed to keep the paint and the gravel.

They will see everything - except the real Mali.

Like a hastily-staged New Orleans photo op, these are the days of the Bushes' lives.

On one more thing that's naughtier than Live Free or Die Hard

Okay, so just in case you were wondering:

Mingle² - Online Dating

I'd be surprised if readership here was heavy in the under-17 category, but just to be on the safe side, parents might want to take notice. Apparently, we're using some pretty harsh language here at Practically Harmless.

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

murder (7x) ass (4x) dead (3x) bomb (2x) crap (1x)

So... naughty!