Walking on Thin Ice

Traveling Light (by Smith)

More from my project:

THE REPUBLICANS

“Why did you fight with Grandpa?” I asked Dad.

“Because he’s a Republican.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, there are Republicans, and they try to get all the money from people like us and give it to rich people. And then there are the good guys on our side, the Democrats.”

My opinion of Grandpa immediately plummeted. How could this good man like Republicans? Didn’t he know what they do?

“Nixon was the worst Republican. He was a real bad man. He broke the law. He spied on Americans.”

“I don’t understand. Why do people like the Republicans?”

“Because they don’t know any better. President Reagan is a Republican. He’s one of the worst. But the absolute worst was Nixon.”

“President Reagan likes jellybeans.” That’s pretty much all I knew about him ‘cept that he was old like Grandpa and had a big smile. We learned about the jellybeans in our weekly reader in school. We also learned about Sam Walton, who made Walmart. But I’ve never seen a Walmart.

“Did you know Reagan thinks ketchup is a vegetable? He’s trying to stop them from putting vegetables in your school lunches. He doesn’t care about kids.”

The rich kids at school got tator tots and pizza. Some of the really poor kids got that too. They had free lunches. But I’d never seen a vegetable in a school lunch. And we couldn’t afford to buy lunches, so I packed mine.

“But I’m really mad because Reagan is crazy. He sends money to bad people in other countries as long as they’re against the communists. He talks real tough to the Russians and they’re afraid he’s going to start a nuclear war.”

“Oh my God! What can we do to stop this? Why are people so stupid?”

“We can’t do anything about it, Kath. But we’re probably OK here. If there’s a nuclear war, the Russians will bomb the big cities, the military bases.”

“Will they bomb Cleveland?”

“Hard to say.”

“I’m scared, Dad!”

“Well, I’m thinking about storing up some food, putting it in barrels in the basement. We can store food, water, some basic things we might need until it’s safe to look around. If they bomb Cleveland, we have to wait in the basement until the main fallout is done.”

“Reagan sounds like Ray-Gun.”

“You’re my little hippie girl.”

“Good night, Dad. I love you.”

“Good night, Kath.”

He leant down and gave me a bristly kiss. Turned out the lights. I saw his profile blocked out in yellow light from the hall.

“Wait!”

“What? Good night, you.”

“No, tell me your favorite thing. What was your favorite thing today?”

“Oh, talking to you.”

“Do you want to know what my favorite thing is?”

“OK, what?”

“Talking to you!”

“OK. Sleep tight.”

He closed the door and left me in the subdued lighting from the fish tank. I couldn’t see the fish from the bed, but I saw the green cast by plants, the beige and black rocks at the bottom. The hum of the aerator was comforting. I had my own little controllable world in a fish bowl.

My thoughts flowed with the hum of water. What could be done about Reagan? How could I be safe, and how would my family be safe?

The basement wouldn’t be good. I just knew it. Mold grew down there. I decided I would try to dig a shelter in the backyard. We could live in the shelter for years if we could store enough food. I’d make it really big, so Mary could come, too.

I didn’t think our cats and dog would be good down there. I’d have to ask Dad.

I’d get Dad to give me some money, and we could tile the walls and floor. We could make it really nice. And I’d bring a lot of books. Dad could figure out how to make it work as long as I dug the hole. He could make electricity and plumbing.

I fell asleep into heavy dream. In the dream, we lived near a volcano. The volcano was going to erupt and I was trying to shake everyone. I shook my Mom, my Dad, but they seemed to be sleeping. The volcano erupted, and I ran down our street towards our house. I flapped my arms, and I clumsily floated a few feet off the ground. The harder I flapped, the more difficult it was to float. Then the lava came, engulfed the street, and I was way up, in the clouds, dizzy. Some type of weird miscalibration. I aimed myself down at the street, towards the rooftop of our house. My family was on the roof. I grabbed my Mom, but she was too heavy, I started sinking towards the ground. I grabbed my brother and I was able to fly away, over the spurting volcano and into a dizzy height where I again lacked control.

Lady K, 1976?

From my writing project:

That night, Mom and I took our bath together. I liked this time with her. When Grandma gave me a bath, she was in a hurry, and rubbed my face too roughly with the washcloth. I still feel the harsh washcloth in Grandma’s fingers, scraping my ears. But Mom lingered in the tub.

The water smelled like iron and sulfer. It was from the well. The bathtub was yellow and smooth. I sat between Mom’s stubbly legs.

Mom layed her head back and closed her eyes. I leaned against her thigh. I felt the washcloth float against my skin. I grabbed it and squeezed water out. It trickled and plinked. I put the washcloth in my mouth and sucked it. It tasted like soapy iron.

Mom started to sing an Irish tune in her clear, soft sweet soprano. The steamy air in the bathroom contributed to intimacy, made it a world enclosing just Mom and me. Her voice was a reedy instrument.

When Johnny comes marching home again,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We’ll give him a hearty welcome then
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The men will cheer and the boys will shout
The ladies they will all turn out
And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home.

With your drums and guns and guns and drums, hurroo,hurroo
With your drums and guns and guns and drums, hurroo,hurroo
With your drums and guns and guns and drums,
The enemy nearly slew ye
Oh my darling dear, Ye look so queer
Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Ye haven’t an arm, ye haven’t a leg, hurroo, hurroo
Ye haven’t an arm, ye haven’t a leg, hurroo, hurroo
Ye haven’t an arm, ye haven’t a leg,
Ye’re an armless, boneless, chickenless egg,
Ye’ll have to be put with a bowl out to beg,
Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

I felt a constriction of my throat, and my eyes burned like I was going to cry. I didn’t know why, but I loved that song, and I loved her voice, her passion in singing it. I thought about the chickenless egg and the bones, about the drumstick I ate for dinner.

“I’m a little egg,” I thought.

“Do you know what the song means?”

“No. I like it.”

“It’s about war. People kill each other in war. Governments send our young men to fight wars and they die, or they come back without arms or legs.”

“Why do they do this?”

“Because some people are bad. There are good and bad people. There are good and bad wars, too. But all war is horrible for the people who are in it. Grandpa was in a war.”

“World War II.”

“That was a good war. We fought against the Nazis in Germany. The Nazis wanted to kill all the Jewish people. Grandma’s Jewish, and her brother died fighting in the war. But there was a bad war just a couple years ago. Your Daddy Wayne wouldn’t fight in it because it was a bad war. That was Vietnam. I met your Daddy when he was hiding out from the war.”

“Why was it bad?”

“Because we wanted to kill people because they didn’t want to live the way we do. But people all around the world are different. They don’t have to live like we live. We killed them even though they’d never done anything to us. Our government was wrong, just like the Nazis were wrong in World War II.”

This was news to me. I didn’t know who Mom was talking about when she said the “government.” I didn’t know who the Nazis were or why they would want to kill Grandma. The world had a darker, serious cast to it.

“But we’re all OK now, right Mom?”

“We’re fine for now, honey.”

Lady K & Mom, 1975?

THOUGHTDOM

You’re creating a lot lately. Wonder what kind of thoughts are oozing around in your brain. I’m thought-dumb. You’re in thoughtdom.

“So, you aren’t thinking?”

I try not to. I’m trying to keep low mileage on the brain in case I try to resell it. Too much thought causes wrinkles.

“Yes, I have punctuation between my eyes. Quote marks. I think G. Bush has a question mark on his head.”

He has a smirk mark on his mouth.

“Oh, I know, he smirks. Makes me want to hold his lips and make him tell truth.”

He always has a look like, “I can’t believe they’re buying this.” And his wife, Laura looks like a sated weasel.

“Oh boy, funny how we relish these personal attacks. I was astonished by the viciousness I witnessed against the Clintons in the 90s. In the 90s there was all this aggression coming from Rush Limbaugh, and that was all we heard. But now it’s now, and the Clintons and Bushes are the corporate establishment, and I’m vicious towards both. And now there’s also this loud liberal counterattack.”

Liberal? By who?

“Jon Stewart, bloggers. Even Hollywood. ‘Cept Stewart and Hollywood haven’t caught on to what the Dems be doing. And Hollywood’s got us segregated into little market niches. They still got those patriotic movies, but anything offbeat is liberal. We live in niche bubbles on the Web, too. I’m hard pressed to find reactionaries who produce cool writing or art on the Internet.

“I’ve also been thinking a lot about education. I think it’s a propaganda tool for the economic/political system. The system reinforces in-the-box thinking with its achievement tests. It’s the amniotic fluid for budding citizens. It’s where people are first exposed to authority, taught to follow directions. The basis for swallowing the reactionary line is to stay in the box, defer to authority, follow directions.

“But it’s not a perfect tool. People learn how to read in school, and then they have the power to free themselves by reading more books.

* * *

Here’s a weird & intriguing conspiracy documentary about Christianity, 9/11, and the Federal Reserve. Looks totally hokey at first, but it’s pretty educational. You can watch it online here if you have broadband:

http://www.zeitgeistmovie.com/

“The War on Democracy”

John Pilger’s documentary film not only focuses on the recent awful imperialist activities of the US in Central and South America, but on new encouraging developments in Venezuela and Bolivia. Venezuela has improved the standard of living of its people. There are still problems, but under Chavez there is now universal health care and free primary education. The film also covered the coup against Chavez, to which the US elites were sympathetic and offered support.

In La Paz, Bolivia, indigenous people were successful in re-nationalizing their water, which had been privatized to Bechtel.

We watched a special showing of the film in London yesterday, after which Pilger made an appearance, answering questions from the audience.

During the viewing, the audience murmured in disgust in response to the US officials who were interviewed. When the film stopped, many in the audience wondered what they could do. The words “boycott” and “Americans” hovered in the buzz.

One audience member asked Pilger, “Is your documentary going to be released in the US?” Currently, the answer is no.

As a US citizen, I wanted to apologize to the audience for the behavior of our government, and I had this feeling like I wanted to appeal for help, because I feel helpless right now. Yes, many progressives sighed a premature breath of relief when them Dems won Congress. It must have been by overwhelmingly massive numbers because the Republican Party is certainly prone to perform massive vote fraud. But once the Democrats got in, they turned out to be totally unresponsive to the mandates by which they were elected, which were to end the Iraq War and impeach the criminal President and Vice President. I think those citizens of Bolivia and Venezuela feel much more empowered than we do here, now, in the US.

I wondered if many in the audience were sympathetic to Democrats. Pilger’s film only mentioned the misdeeds of Republicans, but the School of the Americas (which taught torture to Central and South American death squads) was also active during Clinton’s administration. And Clinton committed de facto genocide in the ’90s. His bombing of power plants to purposefully disable water treatment facilities and severe sanctions lead to the deaths of a million Iraqis, half of whom were children.

I feel helpless, and I want this to change, and I want to do something about it. How to vote in the next presidential election is a big problem for me. I don’t see how in our system of “winner takes all” democracy, third parties can win. As for the Democratic Party, it’s apparent that it’s now become a shill for corporate interests.

In Europe, many countries have proportional representation. According to Wikipedia, proportional representation (sometimes referred to as full representation, or PR), is a category of electoral formula aiming at a close match between the percentage of votes that groups of candidates (grouped by a certain measure) obtain in elections and the percentage of seats they receive (usually in legislative assemblies). It is often contrasted to plurality voting systems, where disproportional seat distribution results from the division of voters into multiple electoral districts, especially “winner takes all” plurality (FPTP) districts.

Proportional democracy means that if 15% of voters are socialist, 15% of the representatives elected to parliament are socialist. The makeup of parliament represents the makeup of its constituents. In addition, different parties can form coalitions with one designated leader.

But we do not have proportional representation in the US. Third party votes are likely to be dissipated unless they can form some coalition to have one designated candidate on the ballot to represent common interests, and I haven’t heard any talk of this happening.

Lately my thoughts lean towards reforming the Democratic Party, infiltrating it from the inside.

Resources:

Killing Fields: Genocide in Iraq

School of the Americas

The Threat of US Fascism: An Historical Perspective

“In a year one can learn a lot, age a lot. I’m definitely affected. I’m waiting for the next onion layer.”

There’s a great album title by the Incredible String Band, “The 5,000 Spirits or the Layers of the Onion.”

“I like that.”

That’s probably as old as you are.

“I’ve been writing about my early early adulthood. Going back to some painful times. Hmm. 5,000 layers of the onion.”

There’s always trepanation.

“That reminds me. You know, the zombies in the movie Land of the Dead are good metaphors for now. It seems as though everybody’s asleep. They’re not changing their lifestyles to reduce energy and waste. They just want to turn the switch, and everything keeps working. As long as we don’t see what’s in the next room, it’s OK. And in the next room is the Third World.”

We’re the First World. Where’s the Second?

“According to Wikipedia, the Second World was a phrase used to describe the communist states within the Soviet Union’s sphere of influence. But now capitalism’s won, and the whole world’s becoming the Third World. That’s what globalization is. A race to the bottom. I’m so sorry, honey. I can’t help but think about these depressing things.”

Well, we have to know what’s going on. Because we’re going to be living in it. We have to survive. I’m starting to understand this is the Zen goal of living happy in an unhappy world. You and I are trying to live as bright a life as we can in these very dark times.

“You’re absolutely right. So anyways, that’s what I like about the Romero movies. They’re very metaphoric.”

Very metaphoric. He had Dawn of the Dead take place in a shopping mall, and you can’t get much cooler than that.

“In my early childhood we were poor, and my girlfriend and I wondered what that would be like if we could have anything we wanted in a shopping mall. Our goal was to become good consumers. It’s crazy, isn’t it? But that’s what that’s like when you never have new clothes, your parents don’t have a new car, your mom says she’s broke. That’s what these aspiring developing countries want. New things.”

I have yet to have a new vehicle. Unless you count a bicycle. Used cars, used motorcycle, used pickup. Maybe I’ll buy me a new SUV.

“Over my dead body! Ah, well. I’ve been thinking about us settling down. We’ll have to make money through writing, or I’ll have to get a job.”

Or we can rob banks that are next to subway stations, so we can use public transport for getaway.

“It was interesting watching the zombie movie’s mechanisms of commerce. That’s how we are, in this world. We’re mercenary.”

Yes, people are. They don’t seem to realize that money doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a symbol that everybody has to agree on.

“You know the Federal Reserve? That’s a private bank. I wonder what kinda bad stuff goes on there. They can just *print* money.”

I think the news would be to find places there’s NOT corruption around the world.

The whole problem here is that mankind has never been very nice to mankind, or the planet. And you have a lot of nice people doing a lot of nice things, but nice people are always outnumbered by bad people.

“I think the concept of “niceness” was manufactured.”

Offworld?

“No, by the bad people. Well, rulers have always fostered a state religion for their legitimacy. And, there’s also something called the Middle Class Ethic. And people raised with the Middle Class Ethic initially give the benefit of the doubt to authority, that government is benign, that presidents aren’t questionable.”

Where actually it’s cancerous.

“That’s how I used to be. I used to have the Middle Class Ethic. And the authorities would pat me on the head, tell me I was gonna get far. Nice little Democrat. We see you’re buying into our framework.“

Field in Lake District, Northern England

It’s gonna be hard to give up coffee because it’s such a pleasure, and then, there’s the energy.

‘Yeah, but it’s so labor intensive and expensive…’

That’s alright. You do all the work of making it.

‘No, you clean the pot.’

Yeah. In France, between each cup I had to take the pan out to the back yard and dispose of the grounds. I know; when we get rich I’ll hire poor people to do it for me. They’ll wait outside, I’ll ring a bell, they’ll come in, clean the pot, make the coffee, go back outside and wait.

Or, if I can’t see over something, I’ll ring the bell, they’ll come in, kneel on the ground, and I’ll climb up on their backs, look around, step down, and then they’ll go back outside.

If I have to change a light bulb, five or six of them will come in, kneel down, make a little step tiered platform. I’ll walk up ‘em. Change the light, step back down, send them back outside.

The steps fit my philosophy; I want to stop on the same people I step on on my way up, on my way back down. Plus, there’re a lot of poor people. There’s enough for everyone and there’s no union.

When I take a shit, I’ll ring the bell, and one will come in and wipe my ass.

‘You seem to have a thing about using other people.’

No, it’s just efficiency. Poor people need money. Plus, I’m getting tired of all this work. It’s need to need.

‘Has it occured to you that we’re more on the poor end of the scale?’

That’s why I can make fun of poor people. I can mock where I am or have been. Except for the rich. I ain’t been rich. But those bastards deserve mocking and flogging. In fact, they should be hunted, stuffed and mounted, and used for target practice.

‘Actually, the people I hate the most are the banks and the credit card companies.’

They’re the rich. I also despise their agents of theft: politicians, police, judges, the priests, the press. I can’t believe one of your readers defended Bill Gates.

‘Actually, the sign of our times is that we’ve internalized our oppression. People used to recognize wage slavery, social immobility for what it was — i.e., the mills — but now they think they deserve it.’

And the good the Bill Gates foundation does is way more negated by the foundation’s investing in the very agents of destruction that are destroying this planet. That asshole’s trying to have it both ways. He’s trying to revive the corpse he’s feeding off of.

“For a Green Morocco”, Essaouira, Morocco

IRONY BOARD

“After watching Hannibal, I theorize that the serial killer genre is meant to perpetuate mass mental illness. It glamorizes narcissism.”

Well, it’s important, Polly. You gotta have monsters to feed on the tribe. And you gotta have slow people to feed to the monsters. So serial killers feeding on narcissist leftovers gives the rest of us the chance to go about our normal business and thins the herd.

“Ah, so narcissists are slow… I used to be a fat narcissist.”

Yeah, they always stop and look at themselves. It’s important to keep slow people around you for when the monsters attack. I used Mom for that for years. Worked too; death visited and I got away.

“My generation is the generation of irony. You are more with my generation than your generation.”

Why, is that the decision of the Irony Board?

“OK, more about irony. I used to think it was just a fashion, but now I think it’s an oppression. Because They want everyone to feel superior; it’s a way of desensitizing my generation so we can’t feel anything about the bad shit that’s going down.”

I’m more from the Mad Max school of movies.

“Yes. Mad Max is cool. Look what he turned into, though.”

That’s exactly what I was thinking! I wonder what I’ll think of the movies next time I see them. Everything changes.

“Yes, I never thought Mel Gibson could age. I thought of him as a silver-tinged hairy beefcake.”

Do you get a side order of salt lick with that?

“Both Sides of Catville” - Essaouira, Morocco
Photo by Lady

this desert
this was once lush jungle
until writers ate the trees)

the facts we consume

who rule the world
benefit governments
protect them
little help you
oh the rich, good & right…

Lady K

THE SHAPE OF THINGS THAT ARE DONE

What are you thinking about?

“Oh, the police. I’m wondering if they are more or less corrupt here than in the US.”

I think corruption crosses country. You always have good cops, but power corrupts, money corrupts, the occasional hit contract corrupts. Cops have too many chances to be crooked.

Although in the food chain, cops might be slightly more honorable than politicians.

“I always thought of the word ‘corruption’ as an adjective to be used in specific, special cases.”

Ah, so if it’s systematic, it’s not corrupt?

“Depends on your frame of reference.”

So an honest cop would be corrupt, because he’s corrupting a corrupt system.

“What’s your experience with police corruption?”

Well the plain clothed cops who beat the shit out of me and put me in the hospital… after they gave me my tickets for drunken disorderly, they went back and talked about it and decided they would also charge me with assaulting them. Because they left bruises on me and they had to cover their ass. I spent the night in jail, but I got probation.

“How much did they hurt you?”

I had ugly bruises on my hips and on my sides, my torso. I mean, they were in plain clothes. I didn’t even know they were cops. But I was amazingly drunk. I have a smart mouth and I could’ve said something I shouldn’t. I have no idea. I don’t even remember being beaten. I remember being in the back of the car, furious.

“Did you file a complaint?”

My lawyer told me, “forget it.” We even had photos of my bruises. There were some facial bruises too.

There were at least three, maybe four. Cops. One lady and three guys. I’m sure glad I don’t drink no more. I ain’t even tempted.

“I like the idea of oblivion sometimes.”

I just buy a hammer and keep hitting my head with it until it doesn’t hurt anymore.

My father, every time you’d hurt yrself, would say, ‘you’ll feel better when it stops hurting.’ I think Pappy had a bit of sadist in him.

“About our volley of conversation; I think we’re associative people. That’s why we can converse. Hey, let me lie my head down on your lap.”

Wait, don’t lie down yet. I’m going to make another pipe. I just haven’t made the shape yet. The shape of things that are done.

“How apropos; the shape of things that are done. That’s brilliant. Everything that’s done is a shape.”

Maybe we could use that as one of the ten dollar philosophy pellets we’ll sell in our philosophy franchise.

“Yes, Reality is in the shape of things that were done.”

ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND SUICIDES

You have very odd ears. You don’t have a lobe. Instead, the bottom of your ear goes directly into your head.

“Yes, but I have the concept of a lobe… inside my head. Soon I won’t need my eyes because I’ll fully understand my eyes.”

You also have a straight line crease going from the bottom of where the lobe should be separated from the head straight up the side of your ear face interface, two-thirds the way up. It’s like somebody pressed a ruler edge in hot wax. I think it’s where they sealed you together after they finished making you.

“Who are they?”

Well, initially I thot you worked for the rats. You never actually denied that.

“Continue…”

Then I asked you what your purpose was.

“I said my purpose was to replace you.”

And you certainly have re-placed me, from Cleveland to Morocco. You sold my place. So. I don’t know who you work for. You might work for Smokey Grey, for all I know.

“I come from the Future Now.”

I also thought at one point you could be a graduate student coming back from the Future doing your paper on me, in real time.

“That could be, but I don’t remember it. It hasn’t happened yet.”

So in reality, you’re probably not even born yet. It depends how far back you came. So I’m even worse then robbing the cradle. I’m robbing the womb.

“Maybe the womb’s womb. Sounds like our government. They’re really for massive retroactive abortion.”

“It’s really hard when you see the tie lines to the Future.”

The tie lines?

“Yes. I untied mine. I can’t remember the cliff. But I can see the lines dangling. It’s like different ways to get to the plateau without getting squashed. Future can be a plateau, or you can fall off. You can pull yourself up into a better future, or you can let go of the rope.”

Or you can dangle in indecision.

“I think I’m from the Future where we fell off. I have dreams about it and the hundred thousand suicides of third world farmers in India. Did you know that most of the current fighting in Africa is because of scarcity of resources and change of climate?”

Soon coming to a neighborhood near you…

“No one knows each other anymore. We’re too busy on the rat wheel or watching TV.”

Hopefully when things go bad real fast, and they lose their TV, everything else, the citizens will turn upon their politicians and rend them unto Ceasar.

“Unfortunately I don’t think that’s what’s going to happen. Usually the citizens turn on each other.”

Ah… your basic twilight zone episode.

“But it’s so true!”

Oh, yes. There’s that classic Twilight Zone episode, ‘Fear Comes to Elm Street.’ For no reason, entire neighborhood’s lights go out, except for one person. They all get suspicious. They all turn upon that person, tear him to pieces. At the end of the episode, you go up on the hilltop where one alien turns to the other, says, ‘See how easy it is to turn them against each other, with just a few lights? There’ll be no problem.’

“I used to think all this was paranoia.”

Wes Craven’s near my age. He probably saw ‘Fear Comes to Elm Street’ and turned it into ‘Nightmare on Elm Street.’

“I need a good horror movie. I haven’t been scared since Aliens. Now all I have is Reality. Well, maybe that’s why the movies are no longer scary.”

You were easier to scare back then because you’d had less horror in your life. You were young and innocent. Actually, you still are.

“No. I know what I’m getting into. This is the most fascinating time for me to possibly be alive. This is my movie. I’m almost completely aware and cognizant.”

May you live in interesting times.

“I’m glad I can talk to you. Back before I used to talk, I would just say one phrase over and over, turning it in my head, one thought. Couldn’t get past that one thought. Your conversation allows me to row ahead, to float down the river of thought.”

So much depends upon the little red wheelbarrow boat.

WEIRD WORLD

Just read some articles, “Lieberman Threatens War With Iran” and “Cheney’s Iran-Arms-to-Taliban Gambit Rebuffed“…

In the first article, Lieberman says Iranians are arming Taliban insurgents to come across the border into Iraq, and says we should bomb Iran.

The second article describes the media campaign that was inflicted upon US news sources recently. A number of articles have come out, attributed to anonymous alarmist sources, claiming that Iran is arming the Taliban. In one of the most striking articles, ABC reported that NATO officials said they’d caught Iran “red-handed” shipping arms and explosives to the Taliban.

Turns out this was propaganda. In a startling admission, Defense Secretary Gates and the commander of NATO in Afghanistan Gen. Dan McNeil said it was bunk. As a matter of fact, the Taliban and the Iran government are adversaries.

This is really really weird. It’s REALLY STRANGE when the MILITARY is protecting us! I mean, come ON… Robert Gates is the check against Cheney and Lieberman?!? It’s also really strange because at the same time these power goons (Cheney, Lieberman) advocate invading Iran ostensibly because of Iraq, Bush is considering using Iran as a broker in Iraq according the Baker Hamilton Report. Last week Bush said he’s supported the Baker Hamilton Report all along. Meanwhile, Cheney thinks Bush is going soft on the war, so rumor has it he’s going to try to “constrain Bush’s choices.”

I think the recent truth to power by official appointees is the result of what happened to Tenet and Libby. Smart appointees aren’t gonna take the fall for the big bad guys.

And remember Ashcroft? Turns out he wasn’t as terrible as he could’ve been. He refused (ailing from his hospital bed) to capitulate when Gonzales asked him to sign papers to unleash more wiretap offenses against US citizens. This was a weird middle-of-the-night intimidation visit over Ashcroft in his hospital bed, per Bush’s order. Fortunately, someone tipped him off, so Ashcroft called in some witnesses for the meeting. Maybe Gonzales’ goons woulda snuffed him otherwise?

Back to the media campaign against Iran: What’s terrible about this is that many people try to inform themselves by — for example –listening to NPR with innocent ears. They are channeled into buying into the propaganda machine.

Reality’s getting really really weird in a bizarrely hopeful way when people who are part of the machine turn against the masters. Good for them. Perhaps those who rise through military meritocracy are the only capable defense against draft dodging war monger plutocrats.

Now, if Gates could just stop envisioning a “North Korea” style occupation of Iraq (he wants us to be in Iraq in our 107 permanent bases there for fifty more years with a scaled-down force of 30,000 troops)…