Another Signpost

Local teenagers from the Hey Al Dubat area of Fallujah, Iraq, hang out during the afternoon near a Kentucky Fried Chicken July 16. Since the opening nearly seven months ago, the business has flourished and attracts many customers in the nearby area. (Official Marine Corps photo by Cpl. Chris T. Mann)

Just in case you needed another indicator that it's just about over but the shouting, there's now a KFC in Fallujah of all places. You know, the Fallujah where Abu Musab al-Zarqawi was sawing off heads a few years ago. The Fallujah of Operation Phantom Fury infamy. The Fallujah where they executed, burned and strung up 4 contractors from a bridge, then danced in the streets. Bing West talks about Fallujah's reputation within Iraq in No True Glory. It was a nasty place even by Iraqi standards; their version of New Jersey. A lot of Saddam's thugs were drawn from there. And now they've got original or extra crispy with teenagers hanging around in front. Screw the political benchmarks. When Iraq gets its first indoor mall, compete with teenagers hanging around all day, it's time to bring the boys home.

One final thought. The picture below is from inside the Fallujah KFC.

A friend of mine went to Detroit a few years back looking at medical schools. He told me while he was there he went to a KFC in a really bad, "Oh Shit" part of town. This particular KFC had Plexiglas pass-throughs at the counter because the neighborhood was so bad. So using the KFC metrics, Fallujah is now safer the Detroit was 10 years ago. I'm gonna start selling "US out of Detroit" bumperstickers and declare a quagmire. Then again, calling Detroit a quagmire is redundant.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Atlanta Burn

What is it about this town in the summer that drives me under? There's something beyond the retardation-inducing heat, the diesel-tasting air, the nose-burning smell of piss, and the ugliness of graffiti-stained terrain. Maybe it's the collective rush towards idiocy. As usual, when the stupid gets too thick I head for the hills. This time it was literal, with a weekend foray to a cabin outside Blue Ridge. (At right Mrs. Ares ponders the distant hills from the deck of our 48 hour home.)

I call these Band-Aid weekends. Whatever's open in your head gets plastered over for a few days, just enough for it to coagulate. The older I get the less effective these bind-and-patch interludes are on my psyche. My relaxation genes are developing an immunity. The first instinct is to go farther away for longer, but I think that's just hitting the nail harder. Along those lines Mrs. Ares and I watched Into The Wild the other night. That poor kid read too much and worked up the ideal of getting away to the point where it drove him out where he didn't belong. (Reason #845 why I love Mrs. Ares: ½ way through the movie, when he's going on about wanting to get away from it all and go to Alaska, she says to me “He just spent too much time in Atlanta”.) No one in early adulthood should have unlimited access to Kerouac, Thoreau, and any Russian author. In my youth, upon relaying my discovery of Camus to Athena, she remarked to the effect that certain literature should have an age restriction.

I'm not sure what the answer is here. I'm mainly just spouting off at the keyboard because it's late and I can't sleep. Actually, I could sleep but I can't just yet. That's another day's post. As for this day's post, I'll give it and myself a rest.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Carbon Commercials

Commercials cause global warming. (Sorry I meant climate change.) That's according to a deep think pushed on the poor folks in Australia. While I think they were trying to be serious, I can't stop laughing. I have a vision of a hemp-wearing, Birkenstock-shod, tofu-eating, Kucinich-voting, (whoops, sorry Athena) trust-fund hippie, sitting in a yurt, turning off the TV during pauses in Lost. There's no source on the article, but I'm pretty sure it comes from the Department of Making Stuff Up, which is a sub-unit of the Ministry of Pulling Statistics Out of Our Ass. When I consider the current frenzy associated with environmental worship I think of the immortal words of John Candy in Spaceballs:"They've gone to plaid." I've posted it below (about 4:40 on the clip) just to remove the intellectual stink.

Ares

Marmot Monday

I think he's saying "Damn, it's hot!"

Ares

Amen

And "Its Not News, Its CNN"...

Athena

What We Call The News

Brilliant!



Ares

Marmot Monday

Locals Only Post

Whore!

For those from out of town, the whore in question is the one that is currently not a United States Senator. This is so pathetic it defies definition. Vernon actually had himself Photoshopped in with Barack for a campaign flier. This is the political equivalent of telling a girl you're terminally ill so she'll sleep with you. What's next? Vernon in one of those walls at Disneyland where you put your head through the hole so its on Micky Mouse's body? God I wish I had Photoshop.

Ares

Tuesday Word of the Day

Ataraxia: "A pleasure that comes when the mind is at rest." Also, a state characterized by freedom from worry or any other preoccupation.

Something to learn, something to practice.

Ares

Marmot Monday

Fourth

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

Two hundred years later it's still one hell of a mission statement.

Ares

Food Suicide

Holy Trans-Fats, Batman! Courtesy of Instapundit, a story about the Luther Burger: A bacon cheeseburger that uses Krispy Kreme donuts for a bun. WOW! Atlanta locals are familiar with the now-defunct Mulligans on the south side of Decatur. Mulligans had the world famous Hamdog, which is a hot dog wrapped in a beef patty and deep fried. The Hamdog takes it's place alongside the deep fried Mars bar and deep fried Twinkie as the Leaving Las Vegas of food. Again, wow.

Ares

Update: Further food research has led me to the Bacon Unwrapped website. This is an instant new favorite in the Ares household. Best quote: "The scent of barbecue permeates the air. And as you walk down the midway, people offer you free pork. Within 5 minutes of passing through the gates, I had a sausage in my hand. I like to imagine this is what heaven might be like".

Marmot Monday

We're All Gonna Die!

I feel a need to call a flag on the play. I came across this steaming pile of an article the other day and laughed out loud. “Midwestern levees are bursting. Polar bears are adrift. Gas prices are skyrocketing. Home values are abysmal. Air fares, college tuition, and healthcare border on unaffordable. Wars without end rage….” Yadda yadda yadda. They forgot killer bees and a new global ice age. The authors go to great lengths to beclown themselves. I have so many literal problems with this piece and conceptual problems with what they’re pushing that I don’t know where to begin.

We’ll just skip the literal issues with the piece and slap the conceptual a bit. Why don’t they just get it over with and plaster WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE! in 68 size font. This is the angle behind just about everything that gets shoved in front of us these days. I’ve been harboring the hypothesis for some time that we’re going to look back a generation from now on the ’00 decade and cringe. No context, no insight, just a big pack of people bouncing from panic to panic. There is no mistaking that we’ve got some large issues in front of us. But this has always been the case and will always be the case. I think a short trip down memory lane is in order to provide some scope. Let’s journey all the way back to the mid 1970’s.

Athena was a precocious pre-teen. I was a paste-eating elementary school nose picker. The price of gas was irrelevant because it was hard to come by. What gas there was had lead in it so it was only a matter of time before it killed you. The president had been self-deposed over criminal doings to get re-elected. The vice president had done a perp walk in ’73. America had just finished laying 58,000 servicemen in the ground over the previous decade. The Khmer Rouge slaughtered upwards of 2 million people (out of 7 million in the country) and nobody lifted a finger. An earthquake in Tangshan, China, killed over 200,000 people in July of 1976. Earlier that year another quake killed 23,000 in Guatemala. Somewhere around 200,000 people died when Typhoon Nina hit China in 1975. Over a 24 hour period in April of 1974 148 tornadoes struck 13 states, killing over 300 people & doing a few billion dollars in damage. Millions of troops were still squared off in Eastern Europe, backed by nuclear, biological, and chemical weapons, 30 years after the end of a war that nobody called a quagmire. Speaking of nuclear weapons, tens of thousands of them were poised to launch on warning. (“Guaranteed to end civilization in 30 minutes or less or your money back.”) Over 30,000 troops remained in Korea on war footing over 20 years after the shooting stopped in war that is still officially under way. Curiously, nobody’s called that one a quagmire either. Food shortages were very real, and the world’s three largest countries couldn’t feed themselves through domestic production. Paul Ehrlich was trying to convince us we’d all die via the population bomb. While we were waiting to starve to death we’d freeze to death because the new ice age was galloping towards us. Oh, and the Fed had interest rates in the teens.

Do I need to go on? We look like ass clowns when we quail about the price of airline tickets, professional sports, polar bear peril. Memo to all media: STFU and get back to work. We’ve got things to fix and stuff to build and you’re not helping.

Ares

Vermonted

Mrs. Ares and I went to the Green Mountain State last weekend. Let me start by giving a big-brained shout out to whoever decided Vermont should be known as the Green Mountain State. This is a branding genius on par with calling Georgia the Red Dirt State. All marketing labels aside, it really is a beautiful state.

As I told Athena, it's as though western Washington and Ohio had a kid named Vermont. Mountains, open spaces and water akin to the Pacific Northwest. Old houses and streets like you'd find in the mid-west.

Burlington, where we encamped for the duration, seemed rather overrun with hippies. I'm sure some of that had to do with the proximity of UVM. Still, there was an organic, if I may use the term in this context, sense of hippieness. The kids were a bit funny to my approaching-middle-age outlook. Lots of recreational facial hair, metal in various parts of the face, and lots of tattoos. Mrs. Ares referred to them as 'trust fund hippies'.

We also spent some time at the most-excellent Shelburne Farms. Shelburne is beautiful and probably what I'd like my farm to look like if money was no object.

Mind you, this is just the barn/animal area. We never even made it to the main house or any of the other features of the farm. Anyway, at the farm Mrs. Ares met Arthur, where it was love at first sight.

We may have to find a house with a bigger yard. I think there are cows in our future. Arthur was very good-natured considering he gets poked and pulled at all day by ankle biters that don't know any better. Aside from the hippies and bovines we ate a lot of great cheese, drank a lot of great local brew, and generally soaked in the place. (And for reasons to lengthly to expound upon in this space we didn't go near Ben & Jerry's.) As weekend getaways go we recommend the joint.

Ares

Cave Days

It's been too hot to leave the cave lately.

Sorry, working my way through a bunch of marmot pictures.

Ares

Marmot Monday

I got nothing, just been wanting to throw up this picture for a while.

Ares

Save Ferris?

U.S. Marine 1st Lt. Kathryne B. Schilling coaches a woman as she prepares to shoot a pistol during her training to become a Sister of Ferris, June 4, 2008, Ferris, Iraq. The Sisters of Ferris will inspect women for weapons, suicide vests, large amounts of cash and contraband at entry control points. Schilling is assigned to Combat Logistics Battalion 1, 1st Marine Logistics Group. U.S. Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Cindy G. Alejandrez

Who knew Bueller had sisters in Iraq? I gotta dig into Wikipedia more often. I need find out who this Ferris character was and how they made it okay for women to have guns in an Arab society. Today its Sisters of Ferris, tomorrow its Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. Wonder how long that burqa's gonna be around once Fatima there gets to take her gun home? Also gotta wonder how many women are gonna say no mas to a male-dominated culture after spending some time around American female warriors? All benchmarks on the road to creating a functional society. By the way, Sister, you're holding that Glock wrong.

Ares

Hell is Other People

Far and away my favorite existentialist quote. Sartre was a pissy, moody whining bitch (who boxed several intellectual weight classes below Simone de Beauvoir), but that single nugget of wisdom redeems him in my eyes.

Nothing like a day of wading neck-deep in your coworkers' neurosis to make you wanna take a mallet to the soft spot on the side of your skill. As I wrote previously in this space, even the a******* in your life have something to teach you. Today I was using my inside voice to yell at the heavens "WHAT IS THIS A****** TEACHING ME!" I felt a bit like George Costanza yelling "SERENITY NOW!", but with my inside voice. Old Siggy Fraud said "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar". I think that translate across into "sometimes an a****** is just an a******".

The detached, internal intellectual that usually won't roll around in the stink posed a question in the midst of bashing my head against ramparts of stupidity. In your late teens and early 20s you crave sex and respect. By your late 20's you crave credibility in your chosen profession. In your 30's you crave competence and recognition of such. Anymore, I crave a Dick Proenneke life, spent in a self-crafted seclusion. A great number of people in my profession spend a large portion of their professional life constructing the Dick Proenneke exit of some fashion. While I acknowledge this very idea is occupying a larger portion of my psyche with the passage of time, I wonder what comes after this. Or will this be the defining obsession henceforth? I don't see an exit or an alternative. As you can tell, it was a long, hot day and the beer isn't doing anything for me.

Ares

Athena Caveat

Slight difference of opinion here at A&A: I happen to like Christa, and especially snarky Jordan.

Sorry to be MIA for so long, but between walking four miles a day (stress management, anyone?) and then catching the world's nastiest summer cold (I felt like an extra from Stephen King's The Stand) I just haven't been feeling the blogging spirit.

Meanwhile, here's one I've been enjoying lately...

Love ya, miss ya, mean it...

Athena

Andromeda Strained

Michael you whore. Mrs. Ares and I just donated three hours of our lives we’ll never get back to a ‘reimagination’ of Michael Crichton’s Andromeda Strain. This thing left no short cut uncut and no cliché undisturbed. And before I forget, here’s a little tip to the producers from Jake Jackass in Snotbubble, Georgia: If you want me to take your scientists seriously then don’t cast the girl that played Kate on Drew Carey as a surgeon. I can’t unthink her decade’s worth of penis jokes and toilet humor.

This thing is poorly designed to play on all your fears. It’s got a little something for everyone. There’s the terrorism angle, the black helicopters tease, the pandemic monster under the bed, the monolithic-omnipotent government and its associated goons, the mother-earth-is-our-god-and-technology-is-evil meme, and finally that soaring X-Files tent that has taught two generations of Americans to distrust government in all its forms. Evil, dark, ubiquitous cabals are the recurrent theme and the parting visual.

The original (book) was a brilliantly conceived story. Crichton had a gift for taking complex, scientifically-laden ideas and presenting them in an accessible and entertaining format. Remember this is the guy that brought us Jurassic Park and was the original father of E.R. Not a single DNA strand of his storytelling craft was evident on this festering piece of crap. Please, to all that have seen the latest incarnation of this production, please check yourselves into detox by at least renting the original movie. Or, if you prefer cold turkey, read the book.

The new version of Andromeda Strain reminded me of the difference between original Star Trek and The Next Generation. The original, for all its cheese, was fairly tightly written. TNG ‘ran home to momma’ in the form of computer generated graphics and special effects. The original story stood perfectly well on its own. Not content to let a classic stand, this new version became a message movie. Next they’re going to remake Congo where the apes that aren’t killed by global warming are going to become mutants that kill all humans.

Ares

Atlanta's Math Problem

Short aside here. Came across a little stubbed toe of an article in the Urinal-Constipation about Fulton County reassessing value of some commercial properties downtown. The biggest chunk out of corporate ass is the new Ernst & Young building near the Aquarium. The property tax bill goes from $96 grand to $1.2 million. (Holy millage rate Batman!) Here's a tip to the deep thinkers at Fulton County government: You might not wanna raise the taxes 1200% on an accounting firm. They'll turn their army of Poindexters loose on you to the point that you'll owe them money when they're through. Not that I'm disparaging the folks at Fulton County. Any group that can make Dekalb County look cosmopolitan has my admiration. There's a nifty little chart at the bottom of the article that shows in numbers exactly how much Fulton County is trying to kill business in downtown Atlanta. Poor city of Atlanta, they almost had the pee smell problem solved and now this.

Ares

Thank You Just Doesn't Cover It

As the boys at BlackFive would say, here's someone you should know.

Ares

Matrix

Lest things start to look too serious in this space we've added some content to lighten it up a bit. Bravo Zulu to the folks that came up with this one.




Ares

Speaking of Known Unknowns

Athena and I have been having the discussion about government accounting playing hide-the-salami when it comes to liabilities. Specifically, the coming deluge of pension system obligations. Again, we're no experts, but it doesn't take a rocket surgeon to see the craters in the road ahead. In an odd showing of competence the New York Times laid this out pretty well last Wednesday. As if to piggyback on the theme the city of Vallejo filed for bankruptcy yesterday. Why? "....the cost of ballooning public safety employee contracts"

This is not mystery math. A high school freshman with a calculator can look at X number of employees with X number of years of service retiring a X percentage of annual salary and compute accordingly. San Diego actually had a bit of a dust up about this a few years before their pension system led them into bankruptcy. A city councilwoman had the audacity to suggest the system was out of balance. Her reward was fellow councilmen recommending her for psychological evaluation. I think her new last name is Vindication. This type of flapping incompetence is one of the reasons I'm not a "lifer" at my current employer. We're just starting to climb this hill. More to follow.

Ares

Known Unknowns

From the "No Shit, Sherlock" files comes this deft little booger of insight. The Washington Post has discovered that there's no real logical or economic basis for the explosion of oil prices. "The market is once again searching for a new equilibrium" said a report from Goldman Sachs. The equilibrium referenced is not the usual market forces of supply and demand, but rather the break point where people are moved to violence or outright theft. Around the Ares and Athena campfire we call this a "because we can" application of pricing.

I'm certainly no economist or expert on commodities valuation, but something has definitely changed in the last decade. There appears to be a heard of investment capital that has moved from commodity to commodity. The unifying thread in the movement is that the commodities are staples that consumers have little choice about consuming. It started with an intensive push for deregulation of portions of the power industry in the 90's. This resulted in criminal-level graft in California. (A sitting governor was deposed and the state was economically knee-capped at a cost a few indictments and hand slap fines.) This was followed closely by the absurd run-up in housing prices. Housing will have to retreat quite a bit further before it will be affordable to the average American again. Now we're a few years into a speculative frenzy concerning oil. The hedge fund alarmists have constructed a theater of imagination where any uttered disturbance is cause for increase in price. Favorite examples of the past few years have been rockets fired at oil tankers, forecasts of hurricanes in the Gulf of Mexico, a rebel attack on a refinery in Nigeria, and any statement by anyone in Iran. None of these actually result in a supply reduction, but the the downrange facts have no place among current shakes of the Magic 8 Ball. Overlaid onto this decade has been the price of health care. Because, really, your only option besides paying is dying.

This is capitalism at its absolute worst. This carnivorous heard of revenue harvesters is consuming its own flesh. A cursory examination of the first 40 years of the 20th century bears out an excellent example of what predatory capitalism will reap. Aside from stretching society at the seams it brought down government intervention on an epic scale. The longer the current incarnation of that period persists the greater the chorus will be for intervention, regardless of reasonableness. Bear in mind that I'm an avowed capitalist when I say I don't have a problem proposing that the government nationalize the oil industry. The waste and abuse of applying civil service and congressional oversight to the energy industry would be a welcome change from compulsory contributions to epic racketeering. (I defy anyone to ethically justify hundred million dollar bonuses.) The longer this persists the more people are going to pushed into the arms of those that offer radical solutions. (Including mine. Thankfully I'm just Jake Jackass with a blog instead of a policy maker.) This has the real possibility of contorting the entire system to even worse ends. I don't know what will fix it, but like everyone else I can see that its fundamentally broken.

Ares

Changes

Been a while since we've changed the linen over here. I'm trying to see what this pig of a blog host site can do. More subtle changes to follow, including the subliminal advertising for donuts and beer. If you hear cursing from northeast Atlanta it's just me trying to get the code to do what I want. I believe the correct acronym is PEBKAC: Problem Exists Between Keyboard And Chair.

Ares

Battle of the Hot Dogs

It's hard for me not to love Drew Carey. Not only is he a pop culture anti-hero, with his less-than-slim waistline and coke bottle glasses, but he's also a pretty smart guy. Of late he's taken up the cause of combating stupidity via video spots on reason.tv. He tends to ask some pretty basic questions that are difficult to answer without retreating to sound-bite banalities. One of the best thus far is his latest, which is about a street cart hot dog vendor in Los Angeles that got busted for selling bacon wrapped hot dogs. (And got 45 days in jail. Holy nitrates, Batman!) Drew seems like a natural spokesman for bacon wrapped hot dogs.

Ya know, I'm just spitballin here, but if the Libertarians were serious about fronting a candidate with some distance they'd draft Drew. My friend R is constantly lamenting the perpetual flaccidness of the Libertarian Party. He's got strong recognition and comes across as a regular guy. Best of all, he's got nothing to lose. For those who laugh at the idea I would direct you to the Reagan Presidential Library to review the works of Governor Schwarzenegger.

Ares

Take My Wives, Please

With apologies to Henny Youngman. How could I not tickle the comedy gold that is the Texas Polygamist Sect? So much to hit here, so few metaphors. Let's just start with the ladies.

They've got a whole Anne of Amish Green Gables thing going there. Its like some strange gaggle of bible-thumping Squeaky Frommes. What part of Leviticus contains the passage "Thou shalt have a bouffant hairdoo, lest ye be transmitted to the gates of hell"?

Moving right along, I love the church that looks like it belongs on a Pitch-n-Putt course between the windmill and the dinosaur.

I think that ramp you see on the right is actually where the ball comes out when you hit it in the back door of the building.

Why is it you never hear of a polygamist group where women have more than one husband? This entire state of affairs is begging to be made into a reality television show. If we can have reality shows about wife swapping and crab fishing why not this? Because if there is one kind of reality show Americans love, it's the kind where we're yelling "What the f*** is wrong with you people!" by the end of the first episode. On a more serious note, you have to give some credit to both sides on this issue. Thus far everyone is going about this methodically and peacefully, unlike another Texas polygamist that burned his people to ash 15 years ago today.

Ares

Really?

Hate to be a self-appointed hall monitor on this whole "climate change" thing, but I've got a bulletin fresh from the What The F*** Files. I'd expect this type of thing from Creative Loafing or The Sunday Paper, but this resides on AB-frickin-C's website. This particular piece is about the torch relay. Quote:

"If people are looking for another reason to be pissed at China, how about this: By the time this pyro parade is over, it will have produced about 11 million pounds of carbon emissions."

I'm a little bit at a loss over this one. The stupid is so very large and protracted it's difficult to get my arms around it. I could build an analytical rebuttal to the piece, beginning with the idea that it's not China's fault there's going to be Olympics. I could then follow on with......oh what the hell. I give up. I keep waiting form someone with some authority and authenticity to throw an absurdity flag on the play, which is my mistake. Dick Proenneke sounds smarter all the time.

Ares

Cheese

Mrs. Ares asked me today when we should receive our forthcoming check from Uncle Sugar. The question got me to thinking. The last time the economy was this grab-your-ankles bad was early in Regan's first term. For reasons that seem a bit fuzzy now, it was decided then that the world would somehow be better if everyone got a big block of cheese. I was much too young to lock in on the details, so someone older than myself please explain the thought behind the mass distribution of a dairy product. I do remember it was pretty harsh stuff, having the consistency of bathroom tile caulk that had set. This ignited an entire generation of 'government cheese' jokes. By the way, I figured out what they did with all the leftover cheese that didn't get handed out. Like some dietary Nick at Night episode, you can still encounter it if you tear open the right MREs. Millions of starving people world wide are reliving the 80's with their GI systems as we speak.

Say what you want, something has gotten better if we went from cheese to cash in a generation. Mind you, it's our cash and they're just giving it to us in IOU form, but at least we'll have more to show for it than constipation. I intend to confound the government and place it into savings. I'll call it a down payment on the Social Security I'll never get.

Ares

Elsewhere

Have you ever realized with a start that the previous 30 (or 60, or 90) days have passed you by and the details have dissolved? Just sort of an indistinct blur of work, couch, showers, and driving. This is happening with greater regularity with the progression of age.

The biggest marker I can dredge up to highlight the past month is running the now annual ING (Half) Marathon. Over all it was much, much better than last year. Cooler temperatures, more water, better course, and at 2 hours 18 minutes a much better time on my part. I finished strong, sprinting the last 300 or so yards. Aside from this it's been a slog of work and whatnot. On a brighter note, I've discovered a few good local blogs that are worth checking out.

The DeKalb Officers Blog is a little slice of Schadenfreude, courtesy of the imploding DeKalb County Police Department. Its a narrow view of the overall slow-motion self-destruction of DeKalb County.

Live Apartment Fire is a much needed critique of local media in this clown college of a media market.

And finally, Georgia On My Mind is a bit of a catchall. There's a section with Lawyers and whatnot for Athena.

That is all, go forth and think great thoughts.

Ares

Enthroned

This is just too big to not comment upon. Seems a women spent two years sitting on her boyfriend's toilet. So many things wrong here it's hard to know where to start. I'll just voice the larger issues before moving along. First, did the boyfriend not need the toilet for those 2 years? I bet all the grass in his back yard is dead. Second, and I ask the rhetorically, what's your girlfriend-on-the-toilet time threshold for wondering if there's a problem? Third, don't tell me it didn't start to smell after a while. Fourth, was he bringing her food? If so see Question #2. Fifth, how did her legs not atrophy and die? Sixth, isn't calling a woman whose only tie to you is occupying your toilet your girlfriend stretching the label a bit? I could make a day out of this but I'll stop with number 7: Isn't every dump she takes for the rest of her life going to be anticlimactic? We'll just file this one in the "Never saw that one coming" folder. Wow.

Ares

Narc'd

Whilst trapped at the Secure Undisclosed Location over the weekend I gave in and perused the Atlanta Urinal-Constipation over the web, where I came across this story. Now I’m taking the angle of the article with a grain of salt, because the AJC could screw up an obituary. But the overall premise rankles the ever-loving snot out of me. Mr. Head Fed is clucking about his success with narcotics enforcement in the metro area, saying the result has been higher prices for smack and nose candy. This means the addicts have to resort to more crime to support their habit. Head Fed says his group’s work is why crime is up in Atlanta. I’m going to ask a basic question and hell is going to freeze over while I wait for an answer: How are we better off as a city with these results? The first rule of police work, everywhere on the planet, is to protect lives and property. Both are being squandered at a higher rate as a result of the federal fixation with stamping out narcotics. Cui bono? I think we can safely say it isn’t us.

Ares

In Praise of Stupid

A passing thought took hold in my tiny little melon today. I was gnawing on some lunch, thinking about the idiots that I encounter throughout my workday. I don’t know why it took so long for this to occur to me, but idiots keep me in clover. They’re the reason I can pay my bills and eat. They’re the reason I can take excellent vacations to exotic points throughout this great land. They’re the reason I can buy the good beer and not that foul Budweiser swill. So next time, before I start to get kinked out of shape about the latest functional retard to clog my day I need to pause, take a deep breath, and thank them for all of the cool stuff I can afford. On some level I’m probably victimizing them. The good news is they’re too stupid to know. (If you haven’t seen Idiocracy you truly need to. I think Mike Judge has transitioned from humorist to futurist.)

By the way, this applies doubly for Athena. She’d still be bagging granola if it weren’t for stupid people.

Ares

Athena here: Those of you (all 2 of our readers) who remember my early days in the practice of law will remember D., the attorney I worked for. One afternoon, as we rode back from some godforsaken part of this state, discussing the various idiots we dealt with that day, I remarked "I love this job, except for the morons!" And D., in his special way, replied "I hate to break it to you, but you wouldn't have a job if it wasn't for the morons." True that.

And granola never kept me awake nights pondering strategy.

Athena

A Little Dream Team

This entire web space is pretty much predicated on the concept that I have what you might call “too much free time in the head”. Today’s evidence of that was the mental exercise I engaged in while trying grind through a few miles on the treadmill. I think it’s pretty safe to say Obama currently holds the best shot at being the next president. The day after Election Day he would have to get down to the business of choosing Cabinet Secretaries. What follows is the mental exercise that started about mile 4 on today’s run. (Who else spends mental energy in this manner? Damn I’m damaged.)

Secretary of State: Tom Barnett. Read both of his books and see if you don’t agree. He’s a damned smart guy that isn’t just an academic hack. Generations of academic flunkies and political lap dogs are part of the reason for our current mess. He would need latitude to do some fumigation-style house cleaning at Foggy Bottom.

Secretary of the Treasury: Alan Greenspan. Smartest financial guy in any room. N’uff said.

Secretary of Defense: Nobody obvious jumps out, but John McCain wouldn’t be a bad choice. He would have street cred with the uniforms and he’s been known to bust defense contractor balls, something we need a lot of.

Attorney General: Rudy Giuliani. Rudy spent the bulk of his professional life as a federal prosecutor, so he knows where all the knobs and levers are in that particular box. He’s tough but sensible and has demonstrated a past pragmatism with respect to the law.

Secretary of the Interior: Al Gore. It would be worth it just to make the tree-huggers shut the f*** up. And if Al’s too good to take the job then he needs to shut his ill-informed cake hole henceforth.

Secretary of Agriculture: Brian Schweitzer. I know, who’s that? He’s the current governor of Montana. He started his life in agriculture before entering politics. He’s got a degree in agronomy and served in the Agriculture Department under Clinton.

Secretary of Commerce: This is where the thought exercise took a turn sideways. The Commerce Secretary’s portfolio needs to be transferred to the Treasury Secretary and the commerce position needs to become Secretary of Technology. What is more vital to our society: “Fostering and promoting foreign and domestic commerce” or information technology? The free market pretty much takes care of that whole commerce thing, with the occasional smackdown from the Justice Department. I’m a bit more worried about FBI agents that don’t have e-mail addresses or case management software and ICE computers that can’t “talk” to Justice computers. Cyber policy and direction is a bastard child that only gets held when it cries. Furthermore, since there simply aren’t truly qualified people for that kind of position at that level I advocate drafting people. No, not terribly kidding here. Folks like the CTO’s for Amazon, Ebay, etc. are the kind of people we need. Offer them a nice, juicy package to take the job and if that doesn’t work draft them. For the first go around I would nominate Mike Bloomberg. Mike made his billions in an IT-related discipline, has experience running a large, complex organization, and doesn’t owe anybody a damned thing.

Secretary of Labor: Nobody jumps out, but I defy you to name two past holders of that post. Yea, me neither. If you can’t readily name it the post probably doesn’t effect too much.

Secretary of Health and Human Services: Wouldn’t squabble about anybody that actually had a degree in something medical and wasn’t just a campaign booster.

Secretary of Housing and Urban Development: I’ll advocate for anyone that asks to see a master plan for rebuilding New Orleans and won’t just throw money at it. See above Secretary of Labor entry for actual relevance to your life.

Secretary of Transportation: Truly does not matter. Professionals do air traffic control and investigate plan crashes. Secretary just keeps the chair warm and poses for pictures.

Secretary of Energy: Bill Richardson. Bill had the job before and wasn’t too bad at it. (“Wasn’t too bad” during the Clinton administration means he didn’t get indicted or investigated.) This post is going to be a big player in the coming years and it needs to be someone that isn’t from an agriculture state (read: ethanol).

Secretary of Education: Bill Cosby. Bill actually has an Ed. D. and brings some power to the gig. He’s a great American story. He also doesn’t owe anybody a damned thing and doesn’t have a bit of trouble speaking truth to power. Think about it, you know it makes sense.

Secretary of Veterans Affairs: Max Cleland. Another self-made man. He was administrator of the VA under Carter, so he was present at the creation, so to speak.

Secretary of Homeland Security: Mike Chertoff. I know, he’s currently got the gig. That agency sorely needs some long-term continuity to pull its head out. He’s trying to do the right thing in an environment where the right thing gets redefined on a daily basis. Besides, he’s pretty realistic about risk and resource allocation.

Mystery Dates:

UN Ambassador: Arnold Schwarzenegger. No, I’m not kidding on this one. He’s got worldwide recognition and star power. So what if he comes across as a political lightweight, so does the United Nations. The UN is really little more than political theater, so why not send an actor?

Postmaster General: Donald Trump. Because if there is one agency that needs to hear “You’re fired!” a lot it’s the f****** postal service.

Ambassador to Saudi Arabia: Cynthia McKinney. Take that, jihadi bastard. It solves a couple of problems, the first of which is getting her out of the country. She makes a good bargaining chip. “Lower the price of oil or we’ll build her a house over there.” Also, she’d have lots to discuss with them when it comes to that whole “Jewish World Domination” conspiracy crap.

Poet Laureate: Henry Rollins. I can dream, can’t I? He’s the only “poet” that manly men read. We’d just have to make sure they keep Solipsist out of the hands of teenagers.

Head Speech Writer for the President: Aaron Sorkin. N’uff said.

Wow, if you’ve read this far you’ve truly got nothing better to do. Or you’re on the clock and trying to look busy. Any further suggestions are welcome. I hope you’ve found this waste of your time both informative and non-annoying.

Ares

The Rise Of Jihad Cindy's Decline

The main stream media has been remiss in its election coverage. It seems Jihad Cindy McKinney isn’t doing so hot in her bid for the presidency. The Green Party primary, held in a phone booth just down the street from the Marine Corps recruiting station in Berkeley, took place earlier this week. Last week, unbeknownst to anyone who’s seen daylight this winter, Ralph Nader gave an interview to Guns & Ammo or Tofu Monthly where he indicated he might consider thinking about pondering another run for president. And when we say run we mean that in the most euphemistic terms possible, Nader is the three-toed sloth of presidential politics. Apparently this was enough for all 9 Green Party members to light candles and hold a consciousness-raising session at the community garden. By a margin of 2 to 1, with Ralph getting 2 votes and Cynthia getting 1 vote, the Greens have decided to wait for Ralph. Guess there wasn’t too much in the way of rhetorical-induced endorphins generated by Jihad Cindy. Welcome to our former DeKalb County world, Green Party members.

Seriously, look at that mug & tell me she’s not crazy.

Ares

And Not So Smart Kids...

So, not to stick my junk into the gears of retardation that is the Berkeley City Council dust up, but a little thought ran across my tiny cabesa when I saw this picture (Courtesy of the San Francisco Gate). For those of you coming to this wine and cheese party late, the Berkeley City Council has been attempting to oust a Marine Corps recruiting station in Berkeley. (Dude, you should have picked on the Air Force. Marines don't surrender.) People are shocked, shocked I tell you, to hear that Berkeley is doing something that might be considered anti-war/government/Bush/indoor plumbing. Whatever. Holster your indignation for crap that means something. My point is this: What do you see in this picture? (Or any of the rest of these?) I see self-appointed guardians of the truth blocking the free movement and association of citizens. Remind you of anything else? Like maybe those a******* that block access to abortion clinics? Same animal wearing a different saddle.

Ares

Smartest. Kid. Ever.

Last evening Mrs. Ares and I were perusing the stacks at the local Barnes & Noble. I was trolling the magazine racks when I noticed two little girls, about 7 or 8, also in orbit. They were looking for kids magazines, and the shorter of the two was one of those frighteningly smart kids. The taller youngster would occasionally pick up a magazine, which would be followed by the shorter one giving a brief synopsis of it's contents and subject matter. After a minute or two of this, the taller one picked up this week's edition of The Economist. The shorter, and much smarter, one said matter of factly: "Oh, you wouldn't like that one. It's like Time for adults." And a little tear formed in the corner of my eye. Whoever her parents are, I offer a hearty "Job Well Done!".

Ares

Thanks, D

I had a unique experience this past Wednesday. I was present for the passing of an old man. What made this 84 year old unique was that he walked out of a concentration camp over 60 years ago. It’s hard for that to not affect you profoundly, when you look at blank eyes that saw more than you could possibly comprehend. It would be easy to be sad and mourn his passing, but I don’t think that’s the right tack. D, as I’ll call him, probably viewed his survival as nothing less than a miracle. And when you get a real one you don’t waste it. After that experience there’s nothing in life worth fearing. It’s hard to be sad about a 60 year long miracle. To pass quietly and instantly in your own home, three generations after meeting the devil himself, is one hell of a thing.

So I’ll repeat the question in this space that I’ve been asking myself since and I posed to Athena that day: What the f*** do you have to complain about and what, exactly, is it you’re scared of?

La Chaim, D. Thanks for the lesson.

Ares