You didn’t have to be a weatherman to know which way the wind blew at the anti-surge/peace rally at the State Capital’s south plaza today at noon, but you did need to cover your ears when the noon signal was blown through the emergency signal system.

The Oz, Debster and a player to be named later called me about 11 a.m. in a light snow to make sure I was still up for the adventure and I was.  Don’t follow leaders, watch your parking meters … the pump don’t work cause the vandals took the handles.

Back in the 60s, I don’t recall all that many war protests that took place in cold weather.  Mostly, it just seemed in my memory to be late spring when school was about to be out.  Today, everybody was too cold to pull their hands out of their coats and pass a joint.  Everybody must get stoned, but you couldn’t do that today at the Capital.  It was mostly a very sober crowd with not much foolishness going on, but some familiar faces from those byegone days of yesteryear’s grassroots efforts.  Good ole Nate Batchelder, director of Peace House, still doing the same community organizing after all these years.  It must get discouraging here in Oklahoma some years. 

We started the formal part of the gathering at noon to begin at the same time as the 100,000 person march on Washington Mall in D.C. 

Speaking were legislators and former legislators, an Iraqi veteran, the father of a veteran (dead of his own hand) and a woman who is organizing for a Department of Peace.  They were the warmup for the Rev. Dr. Robin Meyer, my pastor.

Robin spoke of the role of ministers and Christians in general faced with this war and then came an unexpected emotional moment.  The names of all 50 of Oklahoma’s war dead were read, one by one, each by a different person.  This was an act of personal commitment and bravery by the readers because Oklahoma law forbids the use of veterans’ names in such protest events.

There’s something emotionally and personally invigorating about civil disobedience.  It’s engaging in a way few other things are.  I don’t know if I can explain it, but even though I wasn’t one of the readers, the effect on me standing out there in the cold holding a sign that said “Peace is a family value” is beyond my poor ability to string vocabulary into sentence. Sadness, first and foremost, but also resolve and a sense of personal integrity.  There is something about standing up for that which you believe despite its unpopularity (or regardless of its popularity) that is heartening.

The times, they are a changin’.

We took a pass on the 30 minute march to the veterans memorial and went to breakfast at Jimmy’s Egg and congratulated ourselves for being old farts that got off our duffs and actually did something.

Uhm…for reportorial purposes, I note that there were about 100 folks there and the state troopers stayed in their cars and back away from the festivities until it was time to lead the march.  Channel 9 showed up and there were some unidentified (by me) still photographers. 

Thank you, Debster, for your commitment to action.  You are an inspiration.

blogblah!!!!

So go fuck yourself.

The president said in his State of the Union Address that the Iraqi people want peace.  So, he’s sending 21,500 more armed killers into the capital city.  Wish he could understand that the American people want peace.  Let’s buy a deal to get out without further bloodshed.  A truce between the Sunnis and the Shi’a for as long as it takes us to get the hell out of the way.  When things settle down, we’ll come back and build you some stuff, but not until security is no longer an issue.  Iraq no longer poses a threat of weapons of mass destruction, nor of dictatorial armed agression against its own people and those of nearby countries.  Saddam has been deposed, tried and hanged.  There’s a parliament.  It’s over for us and we want out until we’re wanted.  We’re no longer anyone’s definition of an occupying force, we are now a departing force.  It’ll take us a couple of months to pick up our shit and leave, but we’re leaving no matter what.  The Iraqi people are not without their own considerable resources, both natural and human, and they will figure this crisis out without further American intervention.  If the Iraqi people want peace, they will find a way to live with each other.  There is great compassion for the Iraqi people in the world and among their neighbors and I’m sure there will be all the help they need when they call on their regional and global partners.  Sunni, Shi’a and Kurd will all find a way to be Iraqis along their own paths.  They have already accomplished much and will become again a nation of pride in their ancient history and bright future.  Last one out, turn out the lights. Goodnight.

And, while I’m at it, what’s with the criticism of religion in Madrassas and the demand to have prayer in American schools?  I suppose it’s a matter of a foolish consistency being the hobgoblin of … well, maybe not.

The love of money is the root of all evil.  Why have we taught our children to aspire to be rich?  As you know, I’ve been thinking about wisdom a bit lately.  Ya think there’s much money in wisdom?  Maybe there is as long as your name is M. Scott Peck. For everyone else, not so much.

Have I mentioned that my quest for wisdom does not include a quest to understand women and relationships?  Yeah.  I decided to be lawyerly and not ask questions I don’t want to know the answer.  I prefer the mystery.  Viva l’difference! I don’t believe we are meant to understand one another.  Please understand that I in no way mean this as a slam at women.  There’s no punchline.  I don’t blame women for the fact that I don’t understand them or relationships.  It’s a personal problem.  I just think it’s better for me to focus on something I might actually succeed at doing and leave things I don’t do well for others who may be very good at undersanding women and relationships.  Some of those people may be of either gender.  I don’t know about that, one way or another.  I just know that it doesn’t seem to be my cup of tea.  I’ve tried my best.  Given it a good run.  Maybe someday there will be a woman in my life with whom I have a relationship that is good.  She won’t care that I don’t understand her or the relationship.  She will just be glad that I’m who I am and the relationship is what it is and she will know how to accomplish progress despite the burden of my shortcomings.  I won’t know about it.  I’ll still be clueless and kvetching.  But I’m not going to bother my pretty little head about it.  There’s always Tara.  And, frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.  Met a woman tonight who said she’d never seen Casablanca.  Texan, not that being from Texas is connected. 

Well, I’m going to a demonstration to get my fair share of abuse tomorrow.  A split second of tomorrow’s peace rally was in a dream the other night.  I was dressed in my black fedora and black overcoat with black gloves holding a white sign that said: Adelai in ’56, little line drawing of a shoe with a hole in the bottom.  It was very funny at the time.  John X and I think Gore should run and could win.  Erase that whole 2000 debacle and start where we should have been 8 years before.  Anyway, noon to 1 p.m. on the South Plaza of the State Capital Building just south of 23rd at N. Lincoln.  Robin Meyer speaking, be there or be square.

It seems to me the industrial capitalism policies, the imperialism practiced in the Bush Administration are the last gasp of the 20th Century and that when we address global warming, stop the pointless debate about abortion (and gays and guns and God and evolution), get on with stem cell research, get on with education, space flight (construction and exploration), universal health care, etc., we get on to the 21st Century, shaping our positive futures. Dick Cheney, go fuck yourself and the horse’s ass you rode in on.

Really.  I didn’t see a single word and I didn’t watch the Webb response (which, I understand, was terrific) and I didn’t see any of the televised news reports.  I ran across a Washington Post analysis of the speech and Webb’s response by mistake or I’d know even less.  I’ve got post election burnout.  Tuesday night is my regular AA meeting and that’s where I was (after a brief appearance at Kat’s B-Party).

As far as I’m concerned, he is or should be soon irrelevant and I hate his facial expressions and faux Texas accent.  All hat and no cattle, as Molly Ivens says.

Wanted: MWF Seeks Humor Help

Jesse says I laugh like a juvenile delinquent. I snicker quietly as though running from the law after luring livestock onto frozen ponds in Newcastle, throwing biscuit dough at cars in Norman, or derailing a Burlington Northern train in Winslow. He’s so specific that I can only imagine he has first hand knowledge of such a giggle. For me, this was the inevitable evolution from the “look at me” cackle I honed in high school. At that time, I was so self-conscious that I thought the best laugh would be to mock laughter itself (a high pitched, literal “ha ha ha”). But that wasn’t as cool in college and, after a disastrous flirtation with a guffaw, I sucked the laughter inward.

I wish I could laugh like my Aunt Mary (pronounced nasally “ain’t may-re”). It’s a raucous twinkle that compels men to empty their wallets from across a crowded room. The more descriptive, uh, description comes from my other aunts who claim Mary morphed Zsa Zsa Gabor and Mae West in her vocalizations. Add some South Carolina flavor and you have one fabulous laugh.

Jesse snorts. I love his laugh. In fact, you can catch his laugh at You Tube as he films me hunched over cold and trying to be invisible (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fqTV5gKTSh8) and ready for bed trying to be invisible (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heLzH2bSni4&NR).

In both clips, I’m laughing. No really. You just can’t hear it. I’m trying desperately to avoid filming, otherwise my laughter would be motionless. After I revolutionize my laugh, Jesse suggests I employ some body language. At this point, I remain still so as to avoid the cops, er, I mean to draw less attention to myself. It’s time for me to give a hoot and shed my laughter paralysis. I’m looking for suggestions for both a solid vocalization AND gesticulation to show I appreciate good humor.

It’s 10 a.m. monday morning and I’m late for work.

Again.

Pretty good football yesterday.  That New England-Colts game was a barn burner.

For the first time, African Americans are coaching in the Superbowl.  Both teams.  I’m amazed that it took this long, considering how important blacks are to the game.  I’m put off by the fact that we had to listen to sportscasters blather about it instead of talking about the games.  Hillary, Obama and Gov. Richardson are running for president and we have successful black football coaches.  Big pat on the back to America.  Can we move on?

OF COURSE blacks, women and Hispanics are successful and will continue to have success.  Like the man said, Bush singlehandedly destroyed that myth of white male superiority for all time.

During the inclement weather, I lost my first battle of this year to quit smoking.  Like Bush, I’m trying again.  This time with a surge.  I’m adding nicotine patches and gum to my battle plans.  I refuse to lose this war.  What will Daddy think?  Oh.  He’s dead.  Well, what will Mom think?  Who cares?  I’m personally tired of coughing and hacking my way through the mornings and late nights.  They’re expensive, stink and taste bad.  Once more into the breach, Henry, it’s St. Crispen’s Day.

(For the literary impaired, that last sentence is a reference to a Shakespeare play.)

After getting down $10 playing poker Saturday, I finally came back and ended the night in the black a dollar or two.  It’s the least the table could do, considering that I was the designated driver on a night when it snowed 8 inches.  Oh, wait.  It didn’t snow.  Well, it was supposed to snow.  The funny part is the weathermen explaining why they got it so very wrong.  I love that.  We got the snow storm wrong, but trust us on the forecast for next week.

Who do they think they are?  Dick Cheney?

Over the weekend, someone, I think it was Joe Biden, was asked about something the vice president said about Iraq and replied that Dick Cheney had yet to be right about a single thing in Iraq, so who cares what he said?  that made me laugh.

I’m interested in what GWB says tomorrow night in his State of the Union address, but I can’t watch or listen to the guy talk, so I’ll have to wait for the recaps.  I don’t expect he’ll make me happy by announcing his resignation and everything/anything else will just piss me off.

Sinatra has become full bore schizo.  By turns he’s either the sweetest, most cuddly, cutest thing ever or a complete monster that overturns everything and destroys all in his path.  No in between.  If I didn’t know better I’d say he’d become very spoiled by having someone attend to his every want and need 24/7 over the past week.  Maybe it is a bug that is going around.

Speaking of which, I’d better get around and suit up and show up at the office.  After all, it’s been since … hmmmmm….I’m not sure when I last showed up at the office.

buh-bye

By MARK MAZZETTI

“I don’t think he understands the world,” Mr. Rockefeller said.

Here’s the link to the whole story:

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/20/washington/20intel.html

 I finally FEEL like the Democrats won the election. 

http://www.netscape.com/viewstory/2007/01/18/bloggers-who-criticize-government-may-face-prison

I have now officially lost my mind.

I’m not sure of the exact moment when I became clinically psychotic, but I think it’s been rather recently.

I stayed up all night last night rearranging my furniture, objects d’art, paintings, toys, rugs — everything in the house.

Worse, I often moved a piece of furniture or a rug (requiring the move of much furniture) and then moved it back where it was. 

After I’ve been such a very good boy for so very long, I’m sure that when I lost my mind was sometime before I went to Best Buy and bought a shelf stereo system and a new alarm clock.  I haven’t put $200 on a credit card since mid summer.  What was I thinking?

Well, one thing I was thinking was that the old stereo and alarm clock were broken and no longer working and needed replacement, but I was waiting patiently until the money came in before buying that stuff.  Until I didn’t wait any more.  Got any idea what it’s like to be snowed in with no music?

Well, I could play music through this laptop, but it just wasn’t the same.

I’m smoking again.

More evidence of a completely unsound mind.

Now, I just have to start over.

Shit.

I have a lifesized standup cutout photo of George W. Bush in my living room, which I think is hilarious, but it’s also pathological.

I’ve dragged out all my old childhood toys, Erector set, electric Lionel train, and arranged them in my bedroom.  Since no women are coming into my bedroom these days, what the hell?  At least no one will be frightened by my fraternity pledge paddle and BB pistol.

Psychotic regression into childhood.

The house still isn’t put back together and, in fact, some parts of it are torn all to shit, but as I lose this manic phase and slide down into exhaustion and confusion, I don’t care.

Can we say “bipolar” boys and girls?  Sure we can.  “Bye-pole-are”.  See, that was easy.

That was a lot of crap to go through just to avoid working on my taxes, don’t you think?

Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but I have things to do.  Which walls will I smear with my own feces?  Can you overdose on Crestor, a cholesterol medicine?  Is Sinatra really talking to me and telling me to kill the dogs next door?  If I remain naked in one room, filling milk bottles with urine, will Katherine Hepburn come help me? You know, the usual stuff that everyone considers in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

I’ve posted a lot in the past two days, so if you’re not interested in my off the top of my head political opinions, just drop down a little and maybe something else will interest you.

So, they’re introducing Senate bills about Iraq.  Most are non-binding resolutions.  One plan is to pass a cap on the number of troops in Iraq.  Another plan is an outright rejection of a troop increase, using the word “escalation”.  Repeal or amendment of the prior war resolutions is in the mill. There’s talk of funding cuts and/or other “power of the purse” solutions.  The Republicans even have a resolution backing presidential power to pursue the war.

From the White House point of view, it’s hard to understand, it seems.

This White House has always been interested in restoring the power of the presidency to some Nixonian Pre-Watergate imperial status.  The war on terror, not the war on Iraq, is what gives this president his extraordinary powers, in their view.  You can’t stop him from doing what he wants in Iraq because his powers within the war on terror are so great that Congress is irrelevant compared to the presidency.  It’s the president who holds all the commander in chief and diplomat in chief and law officer in chief powers.  The Constitution,  in their view, puts all the cards in his hand.

You see, presidents have enormous, almost unimaginable power considering the wealth and military strength of the United States.  This is in ordinary times.  We are in the middle of a war on terror and a war on drugs and these wars are overseas and are therefore presidential wars.  This president, as a wartime president, has dictatorial powers to run roughshod over the Bill of Rights and even the ancient Writ of Habeas Corpus.  He doesn’t have to listen to Congress OR ANYONE.  That’s right, not even the people unless they want to try an armed rebellion.

And, look at his alternatives.

Let’s say he gives in to some kind of compromise with the Congress and the supposed will of the American people expressed in the last election.  Then, where will he and his presidency be?

Think he’d have any luck with a domestic agenda what with his 30 percent approval rating and lame duck status?

Jimmy Carter’s “malaise”.  Clinton’s “I’m still relevant.”  Poppy’s last two years after giving in to a tax increase.  Not for this boy.

As things stand now, maybe he will and maybe he won’t end up being adjudged a bungler. There will always be an argument, a “what if?”. If he gives up, he’ll be both a bungler and a quitter.

If he sets his chin and thinks with the same absolutist black and white dry drunk thinking he’s done all along, ignoring polls entirely and Congress mostly, he can hold onto enormous and unimaginable power (and hope the economy stays good enough to keep people from going to the barricades with pitchforks and torches, a decent bet).

If he does anything else, fahgettaboutit.

Only a forced castration will change George W. Bush’s Iraq policy, in my opinion.

From Erika West’s Karmic Ironies blog:

I’m never going to be in a relationship again. Too draining. I’ve given away everything I have to give. I’m 27 and bitter and done.

So, what does she do about it?

I downloaded the free ten-day trial of Warcraft, so guess what I’m doing today, besides drinking wine at 1:05 pm!

I’m glad to know I’m not the only blogger with a screwed up lovelife.  I also wish I knew what the hell “Warcraft” is so that I could try that.  Sounds remarkably like relationships, if you catch my drift.