
(With a surprise guest, Bullwinkle the Moose)
Eyes in the sky, and "redstateabsentee" is listening.
" Foul Don Fowler Amused by New Orleans Hurricane Former DNC Chairman Don Fowler laughs at New Orleans while talking to Congressman John Spratt (D) of SC. You can't hear Spratt but he chuckles along with."It's not a surprise that Fowler and Spratt would join with the execrable Michael Moore in "thinking, this Gustav is proof that there is a God in Heaven.'' This is the way these people think -- everything is reduced in a twinkling to whatever political advantage they can possibly squeeze out of it. It is not remarkable at all.
What is remarkable about this brief clip is that the Web now has ears and eyes everywhere. This casual conversation between allies reveling in their mutual cynicism is, within hours of being made with a sense of (false) security, laid bare to the world for approval or censure. It's a Brave New World with more than a soupcon of "1984" stirred in. It's a sword that cuts not just both ways, but in all directions at once. To extend the metaphor one more step: It is the sword of Damocles and it now hovers above us all by the most slender thread. Privacy? That's so 20th century, isn't it?

The Not-Really-That-Epic Poem of Obamacles
(with Apologies to Homer)
Book the First: A question for the Muse
Speak to me, O Muse, of this resourceful man
who strides so boldly upon the golden shrine at Invescos,
Between Ionic plywood columns, to the kleig light altar.
Fair Obamacles, favored of the gods, ascends to Olympus
Amidst lusty tributes and the strumming lyres of Media;
Their mounted skyboxes echo with the singing of his name
While Olbermos and Mattheus in their greasy togas wrassle
For first honor of basking in their hero's reflected glory.
-- An excerpt of this soaring epic, this paragon of poesy by the immortaliowahawk:
"The smart liberals are worried. The dumb ones think they've won."
Continued...
"I shall not seek, and I will not accept the nomination of my party for another term as your President." March 31, 1968
When I was a young man, Lyndon Johnson enraged and terrified me. He enraged me because of Vietnam. He terrified me because he commanded the machine which was planning to send me there. Many of the members of my cohort will cop to the former yet still deny the latter. Be that as it may, the fading whiff of cowardice clings to those who avoided service and won't be easily dispelled by denial even as we enter our dotage.
As years do, the years of Lyndon rolled by and the age of Nixon arrived. Since he was no longer President I thought of Johnson then, if I thought of him at all, as a garrulous, blustering "accidental President." At the time he epitomized the violent by his pursuit of victory in Vietnam and the vulgar by pulling up his shirt to display his surgical scars. Hoisting his dogs by the ears just confirmed me in my distaste.
After his death in 1973, I forgot about him. As, it would seem, did the current crop of what passes for loyal Democrats. If you asked for a word that would sum up their thinking about him, that word might be "pariah." Yesterday, Johnson's 100th birthday, received scant notice if any among the Party faithful outside of the Texas delegation who dutifully recorded it. These days, Senator Kennedy represents the ruins of the once great Liberal tradition of the Democrats. But even he stands on the shoulders of Lyndon Johnson. As do many other Democrats if they but had the courage to look down from the rickety scaffolding on which they currently teeter and sway.
Unlike many of them, I no longer seek to re-drape lost youth in the thin raiments of today's elite ideological fashions, but to see if, by looking once again - more deeply than before - I can see what looks different from this rise in the road. Among those many things, moments and men I have to now count Lyndon Johnson.
If he'd been a Rose Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson would have been rolled into the Democrat Convention last night in a wheelchair to witness the apotheosis of his greatest achievements, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965, in the nomination of Barrack Obama for President of the United States.
Continued...Nany Bobo, a delegate from Des Moines, Iowa, smiled beneath her corn hat during the Democratic National Convention Monday. - Check out the other great shots @ Photo Journal

As the first Totalitarian Olympics since 1936 oozes away in our rear-view mirror, it’s time to reflect on the high-minded lessons they taught to a troubled world. I know, for example, that contemporary tyrants such as Robert Mugabe (rhymes with “Zimbabwe”) looks on the works of the Chinese Communist Party and thinks, “Hey, with a few more billion people under my thumb, and more UN funding, I could do that.”
I know that the current government of Britain, even though they beclowned themselves last night with a Monty Pythonesque promotion for the 2012 games, thought to themselves, “Hey, with only 30 billion pounds in new taxes from our disarmed citizens, we can do that.”

"The bus was surrounded by a scruffy bunch of chavs.... which made it look as though they were about to loot the bus, shake down anyone who was on board, and strip the vehicle to its axles before setting it alight."
And I know that many of my fellow countrymen will join me when, after America’s Aquaman Michael Phelps sucked up gold medals like a baleen whale hoovers krill, said along with me, “Hey, I could do that.”
... you've got nothing.
Here's 15 minutes of the brilliant Clay Shirky putting the present day in perspective for you. He centers on what to do with all your extra time to make it both valuable and transformative. What free time? How quickly we forget what life was like less than 200 years ago -- or 50 years ago for that matter.
When she's not quietly, politely, and respectfully driving a stake through the heart of the Obama campaign, neoneocon dallies with a certain number of odd obsessions. Recently she was on a Jello Mold binge, but seems to have turned her attention of late to ancient pop culture. In that capacity, you might want to take a trip through some of the worst songs of decades gone by that are embedded in her essay, Whatever happened to really silly pop songs?
Most of the greats are there: “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini,” "Purple People Eater," "Monster Mash" and others just as odious. But she misses the Godzilla of silly pop songs, "Louie Louie."
"Louie Louie" is the ultimate "silly pop song" for two main reasons: 1) It is a highly infectious ear-worm that heard once seems to gnaw its way to your brain stem. 2) Nobody in the history of the world really knows what the hell the lyrics are. Until now.
Click and see, at last, the lyrics synched to the song as put together by a great human being; one who had to have subjected himself to untold excruciating repetitions of "Louie Louie" to create this video. He probably died from the effort murmuring "Hey gotta go now," but he did not live in vain.
YESTERDAY I HEARD OF A YOUNG MOTHER who came downstairs early in the morning to find her fifth-grade son dressed for school but flat on his back in the middle of the living room staring in despair at the ceiling.
MOM: "What on Earth do you think you're doing?"
BOY: "I can't do it. I just can't go to school any more."
We all know how that small strike ended. Management made an offer ("Go to school or else."), and the union of one caved in with a few plaintive "But mom's.... "
I first thought that there was rough justice in that. After all, the thought of actually going on a ten-minute "I-won't-go-to-school" strike never would have entered my ten-year old mind. If it had I would not have heard the dreaded promise, "Wait until your father gets home." No, I would have heard the thermonuclear announcement, "I'm calling your father at work and telling him to come home right now." That one always alerted me that I had only one half-hour to get my affairs in order.
Obamocrats should be pleased with this war news: Pentagon Plans to Send More Than 12,000 Additional Troops to Afghanistan - US News and World Report "And there may be even more to come."
But if you think this is a "surge" you couldn't be more wrong, according to Gen. David McKiernan, the commander of NATO forces in Afghanistan,
He disputes the notion that the three brigades on the way represent a troop "surge" for Afghanistan, predicting the need for an extended involvement of a larger force. "I've certainly said that we need more security capabilities," he says. "But I would not use the term 'surge,' because I think we need a sustained presence."Well, you can't say that [some] general officers aren't
So the non-surges surges towards Afghanistan as Pakistan shambles towards a sharia, terrorist controlled state, and the Obamacrats continually insist that Afghanistan is "the real war." Or at least they will until the US is fully surged in and engaged.
At that point the now free-floating quagmire (last seen a couple of year ago in Iraq) will come plummeting down on Afghanistan and it will become, overnight, the "wrong war."
At that point, the new, improved battlecry will be to "Retreat to Bananistan!"
Depend upon it.

Just so we all know the new and improved rules. Memorize them. There will be a test.
UPDATE -- From May 19, Four months later to the day:
Continued...
I pulled into Nazareth, I was feelin' about half past dead;
I just need some place where I can lay my head.
"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand, and "No!", was all he said.
-- The Band
When I lived in Manhattan, I never needed to know when winter officially arrived. I could count on one particular coworker to announce it. The official date changed every year, but he never failed to signify it by dropping by my office first thing in the morning, a Starbucks commuting coffee mug in his hand, and saying, "Boy, oh, boy, do you believe how cold it is? Damn!"
Having just peeled off watch cap, ear muffs, scarf, gloves, and a ten pound top coat, I could -- while watching the sleet moving horizontally across the windows -- say with some conviction, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do believe how cold it is."
While riding on a train goin' west,
I fell asleep for to take my rest.
I dreamed a dream that made me sad,
Concerning myself and the first few friends I had.*
Cruising in the bright August morning down Highway 5. California's great central valley, north of Sacramento, where the farm towns roll by, their blunt names like an old catechism of your life, "Willows," "Williams," "Orland," "Nord."
Rice fields shimmer in fives shades of green. Enough rice to feed the Orient with a bunch left over for the States. Old and new orchards in whirring diagonal rows. Roadside attractions promising 20 different varieties of olives. White egrets pacing in the irrigation canals. Yellow crop dusters banking and coming in low over the highway.
Heading south towards San Francisco; towards an appointment with an old friend trapped too early in a brain where all the furniture is fading, dissolving, melting into a blurred now and a bright twenty years ago.
The old story. You wonder about a friend you haven't been in touch with for a decade. You meet someone who knows someone who knows him. Or you run an Internet search and find an email of a person who once knew him. And you ask. Most of the time things are fine, but then there's that time when the news is not good. Not good at all.

It's the oldest shop in Black Mountain, North Carolina. None of the other shop keepers can remember a time when it wasn't here. Nobody in town can remember a time when Pellom himself wasn't here. The Time Shop and Pellom may well have been here before the town was here; before even the Cherokee were here. Nobody can say.
Continued...
From a conversation three minutes ago about the Soviet Russian diplomatic blather rewriting its invasion of Georgia; the "Georgia made us do it" line.
"Kipling writes, 'Iron - cold iron - is master of men all.' "
"Well, of course. Why do people have to be reminded of that? After all, everybody knows that rock breaks scissors."
"Yeah, but everybody knows paper covers rock."
"Fine, but then you've not only got a paper-wrapped rock, you've got a rock you don't see coming."
A selection of images from the invaluable Shorpy :: History in HD | Hi-Res Historical Photos
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A woman floating in the water at Weeki Wachee Spring, Florida, 1947 Lady in the Water: 1947 by Toni Frissell
Here's yet one more way airlines are diddling with your comfort and your life in order to pinch the very last farthing from your fare:Pilots Say Airlines Are Cutting Fuel Levels Dangerously Low
Continued...
Beverly Hillbilly American Royalty in the Making
"I did not make baby with that woman."
Flashback to 1936:
Continued...
Every time you think, well, this has got to be the bottom circle of the Obama Nut Roasting Inferno, the ground just falls away below your feet and you know there are miles to fall before you sleep. Today's chapter is the New Obama Salute Movement from some ad agency that wants to get in on the vast branding opportunities implicit in an Obama administration:
Continued...And now for something actually useful:

Works like a charm. Here's how to set it up.

In the past week or so there's been a resurgence in the discussion of how one conducts one's political life when one holds conservative beliefs while living deep within rabid liberal enclaves, enclaves that can punish one's livelihood, social life and even children, when a free American citizen freely expresses their political beliefs.
Continued...
"And you tell me why those two phallic symbols are placed there. [SNAPS FINGERS] Pow, right at the very beginning of that ad [critical of Barack Obama]. You tell me." -Bob Herbert of the NYT
The Obvious Truth
SIGMUND FREUD has established for all time that a cigar can be a penis substitute. At about the same time Rudyard Kipling observed that while a woman was only a woman, "a good cigar was a smoke." Lighting up and reflecting on this, Sigmund Freud agreed that a cigar could, in certain places, be "only a cigar." For nearly three decades now, millions of American men, including even politicians such as Nancy Pelosi, have been unable to make this fundamental distinction.
20 Minutes well spent on the next 5000 days:
Kevin Kelly on the next 5,000 days of the web | Video on TED.com At the 2007 EG conference, Kevin Kelly shares a fun stat: The World Wide Web, as we know it, is only 5,000 days old. Now, Kelly asks, how can we predict what's coming in the next 5,000 days?One hundred billion clicks per day. "What we're getting out of all these inventions is one machine." "It uses 5% of all the electricity on the planet." A brilliant talk by a brilliant man. Check it out.

"When all of the rest of the civilized world, as well as the Marxist world, was tossing God into the dustbin of history, Solzhenitsyn realized that only God really matters. He chided the West for embracing materialism and forgetting God, a lesson that is just as true today as thirty years ago." - Bruce Walker, "Death of a Giant"
Seen at the Fremont Flea Market in Seattle this afternoon. I suppose that deciding which side goes in front depends on how you feel about the candidate.
And yes these seem to be for women only. If they'd been made for men the image of them in use it be too terrible to contemplate.

Wednesday, November 19

Legacy media companies can’t create a new business model for news and journalism by themselves. They have to work TOGETHER, to build a network — a giant network of much smaller pieces, loosely joined. - The market and the internet don’t care if you make money - Publishing 2.0
"You can decide to hassle your readers (oh, I mean your customers) and you can decide that a book on a Kindle SHOULD cost $15 because it replaces a $15 book, and if you do, we (the readers) will just walk away. Or, you could say, "if books on the Kindle were $1, perhaps we could create a vast audience of people who buy books like candy, all the time, and read more and don't pirate stuff cause it's convenient and cheap..." -- Seth Godin discusses free content and the publishing industry
Unlike cars, wooden and fiberglass boats have virtually no scrap value. So rather than pay the high cost of hauling their boats to the dump, people ditch them or sell them for as little as $1 to anyone who will take them. The boats often break up and go under, or pass into the underground economy of nighttime scuttlers_ who, for a fee, remove traceable identification numbers, strip out salvageable items and sink the vessels.
A man who killed more African Americans than the Ku Klux Klan was awarded a local Martin Luther King Jr. Humanitarian Award and won the plaudits of California lieutenant governor Mervyn Dymally, state assemblyman Willie Brown, radical academic Angela Davis, preacher/politician Jesse Jackson, Black Panther leader Huey Newton, and other African American activists.
The Web retailer's Frustration-Free Packaging initiative aims to reduce the plastic clamshells, coated wire ties, and fasteners that drive consumers crazy.
The democrats lose votes with their evil stupid plans to inject pointlessness into things…like making money…following the law…defending the country. Every little thing anybody can do — except oppose Republicans — they want to make a little bit tougher, a little bit less rewarding.
"The left has long been the welcoming home of fashionable postmodern nonsense like deconstructivism and moral and cultural relativism.... The left is fond of violence and power, and the romanticism and iconography of thugs who are transformed into celebrities among leftist intellectuals. Liberals are this country’s leading practitioners of race and gender politics."
Seriously, folks, it's already evident from his first week in office (since presidential power is primarily persuasive, the "-elect" doesn't mean much) that President Obama is exactly what I guessed: nothing. A Gatsby, a Zelig, a warm breeze in a suit. A bright, but completely characterless and forgettable, young man, with an unusual but hardly unique talent for reading speeches on TV. In short, America's new anchorman.
Tuesday, November 18
The Governator has his hand out for federal money. With San Franciscan Nancy Pelosi running congress and some high-powered senators on the other end of the hillhall, he might get a taste. It's a bad idea. When a fellow you know comes up to you at the racetrack and says he's lost all his money because his can't-miss horse threw a shoe, and wants to borrow a few hundred so he can buy groceries to feed his children, you're wise to at least consider that his kids might go hungry no matter what you do.
From the New York Times, NPR, PBS, or Newsweek, we will hear little whether Obama is choosing a good or bad team, or said silly things or contradicts what he promised. They simply have lost all credibility and now the republic is left largely with bloggers, talk radio, and a few newspapers as mostly partisan auditors.
"The woman may be hoping for a hookup, but she may also be looking for a husband, a co-parent, a sperm donor, a relationship, a threesome, or a temporary place to live. She may want one thing in November and another by Christmas."Love in the Time of Darwinism
if you believe in progressive ideas, you'll believe in just about anything – including kooky conspiracies concerning the suppression of alien discovery.
Next month marks the third anniversary of the controversial U.S. Supreme Court decision that allowed the city of New London to use the power of eminent domain. But, not much progress has been made in Fort Trumbull, leaving some wondering whether the homeowners were forced out for nothing.

The campaigns are over. Put away the yard signs, and the buttons, and the flyers, and the full-sized votive statue of your favorite candidate that you have carved from sandalwood and hand-painted in realistic colors, and which is now seated in the easy chair in the family room.
Sunday, November 16
To sum up, Remocrats invented Global Warming in order to do what they wanted to do all along; to tax people, to boss them around, to make mountains of rules for businesses and to take all your Nintendo Wiis and electronic video games and grind them into non-organic Malthusian mulch while forcing you to watch “Arthur” on PBS all day long until their regularly-scheduled power brown-outs force you to go to bed at dark just like the cavemen did. And they all lived happily–if nastily, brutishly and shortly–ever after. The End.
Too many of us for comfort or solace have become just like the denizens of Jonestown: Orwell's children -- a new generation of creature enraged into constant militancy against eternal enemies, oblivious to the notion of a Blessed Creator, melded into the consciousness of the party hive, divorced from history, hypnotized by images, inoculated against reason, stripped of family, and existing only to serve the cause.
"If the default mode of a society’s institutions is liberal, electing GOP legislators eventually accomplishes little more than letting a Republican driver take a turn steering the liberal bus. If Hollywood’s liberal, if the newspapers are liberal, if the pop stars are liberal, if the grade schools are liberal, if the very language is liberal to the point where all the nice words have been co-opted as a painless liberal sedative, a Republican legislature isn’t going to be a shining city on a hill so much as one of those atolls in the Maldives being incrementally swallowed by Al Gore’s rising sea levels."
Saturday, November 15
"No More Mr Nice Blog wonders why it took gaptoothedRepublican inbreeds so long to choose a backwoods ignoramus as their leader. Good point. Democrats shone the light down this path a long time ago, with the Georgia peanut farmer, the Arkansas trailer-park troller, and now with an urban twist, the Chicago community organizer."
Made in America roughly 200 years ago, this authentic Vampire Killing Kit came stocked ready to battle bloodsucking creatures of night with stakes, mirrors, a gun with silver bullets, crosses, a Bible, holy water, candles and garlic. Housed in an American walnut case with crosses carved in the top, it recently sold at auction for $14,850.[Note: A bit too good to be true. I suspect this might be a fake.]

almost at the equator
almost at the equinox
exactly at midnight
from a ship
the full
moon
in the center of the sky.
Gary Snyder
Sappa Creek near Singapore
March 1958
Friday, November 14
"I am imploring the Obama administration to unbolt Hillary from whatever Democratic dungeon she's been strapped down in for the last three months, and inform that hard, pipe-hitting politician that her job is to get medieval on the asses of America's enemies. And give her the leather girdle, the zipper mask, the whip, the pliers and the blowtorch to do it with."
"A stodgy enclave of self-satisfied jobbers, whose famed collegiality is the precise cause of their inertia and circular jerkism. Do you know what a Senator can do? He can vote. Big fucking deal. Oh, he/she can also chair, and preside, and strut, and preen, and actually even have their cock-swapping lobbyists craft legislation for them. But at the end of Gaia's axel the only power they truly wield is the laughingly impotent vote. One vote of 100. Hell, I can garner more clout than that in a Daytona Beach Harley bar wearing bicycle pants." - Velociworld: Requiem for a Lightweight; a Prologue
Britain is facing a sperm donor shortage after reversing confidentiality laws and limiting the number of women who can use sperm from one donor, fertility experts warned Wednesday. Britain in 2005 changed the law protecting anonymous sperm donors and allowed children to learn the identity of donor fathers - one reason, fertility experts say, there are fewer donors now. - U.K. Facing Sperm Donor Shortages