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

Bye Bye Dennis

Sad news to report here at A & A. Seems Dennis “Tin Foil Burka” Kucinich has dropped out of the presidential race. Common reaction from attentive citizens of the body politic was along the lines of “He was running for President?” Howls of anguish emanating from the People’s Republic of Decatur were heard throughout the southeastern United States. There was brief talk of a candle-light vigil being held on the square in Decatur, but concerns over carbon footprint and having enough parking spaces for all those Priuses nixed the event. Grief counselors will be on hand at most area restaurants and businesses throughout the weekend. City of Decatur government offices will be closed for a week and flags will be flown at half staff. A group therapy session will be held at Decatur United Methodist Church Saturday at 6 pm. Organic gluten-free Tofurkey will be served.

Damn. Now Dennis will have to get a real job, just like the rest of us. Don’t worry pal, as soon as we form that Department of Peace you’ll be back in clover.

Ares

Read This and That

I started a little experiment in January of 2007. I decided to keep track of the books I read throughout the year. Didn’t do it for bragging rights or anything, just to track where my tastes took me and exactly how much I read. So it goes as follows:

The Call of the Wild and White Fang by Jack London. Finally got around to reading that high school American Lit required reading. Not too bad, but for my money The Sea Wolf is much better.

The Man in the High Castle by Phillip Dick. Interesting exercise in alternative history. For a more thorough shakedown reference this post.

Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk. “People who would never throw litter from their car will drive past you with their radio blaring. People who’d never blow cigar smoke at you in a crowded restaurant will bellow into their cell phone. They’ll shout at each other across the space of a dinner plate…….You turn up your music to hide the noise. Other people turn up their music to hide yours. You turn yours up again. Everyone buys a bigger stereo system. This is the arms race of sound. You don’t win with a lot of treble.” This was actually my second read through of what is probably my favorite book by my favorite author. Not for the faint of heart, but Chuck never is.

The Edge of Disaster by Stephen Flynn. Decent look into the sorry, decrepit state of critical infrastructure in this country. A little “We’re all gonna die!”, but not too bad.

The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. Another attempt to cross a ‘classic’ of my mental list. I think the movie was actually better.

Global Brain by Howard Bloom. A little thick and chunky but truly excellent. Again, reference this post.

The Long Tail by Chris Anderson. Concise and to the point. A good explanation of the new market dynamics at work in our world. Previous post here.

The One Percent Doctrine by Ron Suskind. Really good, if a bit over the top at times. I almost have to believe some of the dialogue he’s quoting in the book is embellished, it feels a little too slick at times. Also a few factual flubs that don’t take away from the overall work. Worth the time.

Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank. Cold war doomsday that depressed the shit out of me. On the Beach without the beach, only some of the people live. Recommended by Mrs. Ares. Not a bad read, but heavy like a cancer screening.

To Have and Have Not by Ernest Hemingway. Flaming piece of shit. If this had been his first it would have been his last. With this one he fell pretty far from A Moveable Feast and The Sun Also Rises. I wanted my time back when I finished this one.

Rant by Chuck Palahniuk. You’d be hard-pressed to get me to say something negative about Chuck’s work. Sort of Invisible Monsters-like in the gross out factor. He’s a modern master of labeling and texturing the hidden in plain sight aspects of our society. Hemingway for Generation X.

Brave New War by John Robb. Excellent primer on the migration of 4^th Generation Warfare onto the next battlefield and its meld into 5^th Generation Warfare. Must read for anyone attempting to understand the realities on the ground in the War on Terror.

Leadership: The Warrior’s Art edited by Christopher Kolenda. Good collection of leadership essays written mostly by current or prior army brass. As with most leadership books, there are little bits to be harvested here and there.

Terror at Beslan by John Giduck. One of the best accounts yet constructed of the school siege in Russia in 2004. Gives quite a bit of back story about prior attacks that never got much play over here. If America had endured what the Russians had by the fall of 2004 we’d be coming apart at the seams. As I’ve written earlier, this book is real heart of darkness stuff. Incredible and I mean that in the worst possible way. Plan on having nightmares if you pick this one up.

The Black Swan by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. Like trying to eat a filet mignon the size of a sofa. Both excellent and dense at times, though the latter was a result of Taleb not low-browing it. His pitching was a bit above my swing, but I fouled off most of it. At some point I’m going to reread it so I can soak in more. Good material though. For the After School Special version you can watch his presentation at PopTech! here.

Boots on the Ground by Karl Zinsmeister. Quick read by a reporter that was embedded with the 82^nd Airborne during the march up to Baghdad in 2003. Passed along by a coworker who was in the unit. It’s a bit brief and shallow, with an obvious prejudice towards the soldiers he was with. Not that I have the tiniest problem with that, but that’s my own personal bias riding along.

On the Wild Edge by David Peterson. Well written piece by a guy that went off the grid without going around the bend. Good nature writing, he needs to write more.

Make Love* The Bruce Campbell Way by Bruce Campbell. Funny self-deprecating near fiction by Cheese Theater’s leading man. Gotta love any guy that doesn’t take himself too seriously.

Microbrewed Adventures by Charlie Papazian. Beer around the world from the godfather of home brewing. Made me really, really thirsty.

Lone Survivor by Marcus Luttrell. Excellent, tough read. Part autobiography, part homage to his team mates. If you don’t choke up a few times during this you don’t have a pulse.

Removing Managerial Barriers to Effective Leadership by Norm Stamper. Read it mainly for work, plus a title that I fell in love with. I dare you to try and find a copy of this in the wild.

The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan. Great, stellar, well-done work about the Dust Bowl. Shows how the “Greatest Generation” got its start in low-grade hell. Very much worth the time and the National Book Award that it received.

The Looming Tower by Lawrence Wright. Excellent read. For more on the book slide over to this post. Very deserving of the Pulitzer it received.

Leadership and Self-Deception by The Arbinger Institute. Thin little read about ‘getting it’ leadership. Would probably be lost on leaders that don’t think anything is ever wrong or other people are always the problem.

U-Turn by Bruce Grierson. Very interesting collection of stories about people that woke up mid-life and called a “Do Over”. Gets a bit introspective and navel-gazing at times, but it doesn’t hurt the journey. Very worth the time.

Unconquerable Nation by Brian Jenkins. Jenkins is one of the smartest guys in the room when it comes to terrorism. Pay attention to what he has to say. Also has the distinction of being the rare academic that has seen combat. Good temperature taking of the War on Terror. Bonus: Free on the internet.

No True Glory by Bing West. Excellent look into the problem that was Falluja. Starting with the murder of 4 U.S. contractors in April of 2004 and culminating with the retaking of the city by Marines in November of that year. West scales up and down effortlessly; from the macro political to the micro combat. He also makes it hard not to love grunts.

Overblown by John Mueller. Academic dissection of the domestic consequences and play of the war on terror. It gets a bit long and dry at times, but there are some genuine sparklers to be found. Book doesn’t try to call bogus on the entire apparatus but tries to place it into context, something that is sorely needed.

The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene. Not bad, but I finished and wondered exactly what I was supposed to take away.

The Grid by Phillip Schewe. Fun look into the evolution of what’s been called the most complex thing ever created by man: Our national power grid.

We the Living by Ayn Rand. I promised myself another Rand when I gave up on The Fountainhead 2/3 of the way through. Rand was a talented story teller that desperately needed an editor. (Case in point: In Fountainhead I don’t need 5 pages of how great Ellsworth Toohey was as kid. I get the f****** point!) The book is a harsh indictment of the Russian revolution of 1917 and its aftermath. Being Rand, everyone dies and no one is happy.

Leadership and Training for the Fight by Paul Howe. Howe is a retired career soldier and former Delta member. I thought there might be some good work to mine, but it turned out to be largely a manual for first time NCOs.

Overall I was a little surprised at the final tally. Part of this was aided by taking over a month off work. Everybody should take at least a month away from work with the sole purpose of being a lazy bum. Those Europeans are on to something. Out of the above list I would strongly recommend Lone Survivor and The Worst Hard Time. If you’re any kind of reader it will be time well spent.

Ares

Rotting, Putrid, Fetid...........

Wow, this blog's as smelly as an Atlanta Port-O-Potty in August. Mea Culpa Maxima. A confluence of work, events, and lack of ambition pulled me to the bottom of a pit of inactivity. Actually, there are two good reasons for the empty space of late. First is that I didn't feel much like writing, and I'm not gonna ramble on just to fill space. The second is that I came across the blog of a coworker that is truly awful (whose link I'm not even going to torture you with). The Unnamed Idiot's complete lack of a filter or any sense at all made me more than a little self-conscious. After some review and reflection I can safely say I'm not that guy. (Sometimes in life it's good enough to simply not be "That Guy".)

Now that we've disposed of that little moment of insecurity I'll be moving on. More to follow soon. The above is a little bit of the rare white stuff that left its mark all over this godforsaken town yesterday. A little cold blanket of white to cover that pee smell for a few days.

Ares

Happy New Year!

and much love from A&A...

Athena

Short Diversion

Just a short drive-by here; wanted to drop a few links to make you think. First is a bit of a diversion from the usual fare. Gateway Pundit threw up a little composition last week about six bogus stories that have recently come out of Iraq. My purpose isn’t to drag that little tempest into this space but to call down even more fire upon my favorite slapping bag: Big Media. (Who happen to have positive approval ratings in the low to mid 20’s. Take a look at Congress’ numbers: 14%. Holy cow! Lower than HMO’s, and that’s saying something.) If CNN et al. were employees we’d have fired them long ago. Instead we’re just voting with the remote. Now I'm just waiting for them to realize no one's watching anymore.

The second is another excellent installment from the always switched on Michael Totten. The interesting thing about this particular piece isn’t its substance, but the backlash it’s generating. All Michael does for a living is go to a particular place and document what he sees to the best of his ability. (The difference being that he’s self-financed, beholden to no one, and isn’t filtered through an editor.) This documentation isn’t jiving too well with some folks, who are basically calling him a sellout and patsy for not saying things are a complete disaster. If you’ve read Michael for any length of time you’ll know that he’s nobody’s bitch when it comes to maintaining the party line.

That is all. Go forth and think for thyself.

Ares

A Little Dope

I had the distinct displeasure of recently donating a chunk of my life to a piece of crap in Rolling Stone entitled How America Lost the War on Drugs. I had high hopes for the piece, given the depth and breadth of the topic. It’s a ripe and nuanced subject that the author bludgeons his way through with blunt political indictments and stubby metaphors. In a topical landscape that cries out for reason and logic-based analysis we instead get Ben the finger pointing doomsayer.

The stupid f’ing position of pieces like this is that the “War on Drugs” is a finite, closed-ended thing. Let’s place it alongside the unreferenced War on Crime and War on Fire, shall we? Somebody’s house got robbed somewhere yesterday, therefore we’ve lost the War on Crime. A house burned down somewhere today; therefore we’ve lost the War on Fire. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? No more stupid than invoking the name of every two-bit bandito hiding in a mountain cave or jungle hut and equating their continued existence to a complete failure of the entire system. The real battle here is climbing the mountain of human apathy and ignorance.

Here’s another little booger in the sterile salad bar of the article’s reasoning: Pablo Escobar had to be killed, basically executed outright, because he could not be brought to justice. If you don’t believe me read Killing Pablo by Mark Bowden. Pablo was the embodiment of the idea that not every devil will be prosecutable. Some people will just need to be killed, and they won’t always offer you the conscience alleviation of pointing a gun at you. (Don't think of it as assassination, think of it as Goodbye Earl on a geopolitical scale.) If you want to reduce it to a numbers comparison Pablo is probably responsible for more deaths than Osama bin Laden. Osama does it on television; Pablo did it in a cellar. Dead is still dead.

Further on the article trots our more of the same tired and thin “analysis”. The author talks about Gene Halislip, a “top ranking DEA administrator” that says we missed the magic moment when we could have shut down the meth epidemic before it even started. (According to the author meth used to be confined to biker gangs in northern California prior to becoming a national problem. He should have been in my summer school classroom in 1988 when the kids next to me were doing lines of it.) Apparently all problems in life boil down to retrospective moments where it all could have been prevented and someone is always to blame. In the author’s case it’s the Regan administration, which had the chance to outlaw ephedrine and didn’t. (Funny, I always thought Congress passed the laws in our system of government.) Nothing like being a few decades beyond a decision to render a nice, round, post hoc opinion about how stupid people were at the time.

Then we move on to that “most powerful country on Earth” reference. Because having a slew of nuclear weapons and putting humans on the moon is the same thing as finding a guy hiding in a South American jungle hut. That’s a lazy-assed pluck of a lowest common denominator metaphor. I’m calling a euphemism flag on that journalistic play.

We’ve got to get beyond this lazy fixation with defining moments. All human behavior is attached to a time line and will continue accordingly. Crime and the drug trade are only one aspect of that behavior. The supposition of articles like this is it’s possible to have a closed, neatly tied ending to all of this. With that underpinning you can attack any direction you see fit, and lob criticism into any set of coordinates that supports your thesis. I suppose if there is any fault to be found here it’s in my expectations. I was hoping for insight and thoughtful analysis from a magazine that is devoted to celebrity aggrandizement. Tiger Beat for adults that never quite outgrew the fascination with the beautiful people.

Ares

Baby Lothario

So, my lovely assistant D. and I trundled over to La Fonda Latina for some good chow on a day full of office politics and nonsense. I’m proud to say I got her hooked on their Seafood Paella, while I’m still partial to the Bocadillo Vegetariano. We park ourselves in the sun room, next to a woman with two small children: a boy, perhaps 3 years old, and a girl, about 18 months. The boy, though wandering a bit with his chips and queso, is quiet and well-behaved, a perfect angel with big blue eyes and blond hair.

After ordering, I visit the restroom, and when I return, D. tells me she has been “making friends.” No sooner have I regained my seat when I feel small hands encircle my elbow. A tiny intense face, covered in snot and queso, leans close. “And what is your name?” he asks quietly. “My name is Athena. What is your name?” “Gus” he whispers.

My brain is completely divided. One half is recoiling in horror at the snot and queso that is being deposited on my sweater and hand-woven scarf (Christine Stanton, for the fiber fanatics among you). The other half is completely smitten with this little Casanova. My dilemma is solved: his lunch arrives, and he takes his seat. Then our lunch arrives, and we jump into it. Throughout our dining experience, he stands on his chair periodically, quietly facing my back, and placing his hands on my shoulder blades, as though performing some toddler variation of Reiki.

We finish before the woman and children, and after we leave the restaurant I tell D. she needs to check my back for tiny snot-and-queso handprints. She informs me she cannot find any, which is a relief.

Later, back at the office, I tell C., another co-worker, about the Baby Lothario. As I tell the story, my left hand rests on my left hip, and I feel something. Dammit. Tiny snot-and-queso handprint.

Athena

Pimping Out A Paste Eater

This transcends silly and plants both feet firmly in the stupid. Hillary’s campaign issued a press release taking shots at Barack Obama. The particular angle of this issue was that Obama has really planned to run for president all along. (Can we get an official ruling on how many years constitute an “all along” tag?) As reference to their claim the Hillary campaign cites Obama’s kindergarten and third grade teachers. WTF? Good thing I won’t ever run for president. The quote would be a little something like this:

Mrs. Mansburger, Ares’ Kindergarten teacher: “He was a hyperactive little boy that spent a lot of time with his finger up his nose and ate a lot of paste.”

Dude, seriously, WTF? If we’ll all consult our collective rear-view mirrors we’ll see the caricature of presidential elections far behind us. We’ve now moved into strange, unfathomable territory.

Ares

Future Branding

I’ve had a little thought dingle berry floating around my head for a few years. I wonder what kind of sports mascots we’re going to have in one hundred or two hundred years. The Pittsburg Pirates and the Tampa Bay Buccaneers inspired this power think. Pirates were the equivalent of common thugs back in their day. For that matter, there are still parts of the world where people are killed by pirates. I suppose the difference is nobody in our society is dying at their hands. Once everyone who was victimized by a given group of criminals or thugs is gone the stigma dies out with them.

So this leads to my only partially joking hypothesis. A hundred years from now Los Angeles will have a pro sports team called the Crips. New York will have one called La Cosa Nostra. Detroit will probably have one called the Jihadis. And our current home town of Atlanta will most likely have a team of some variety called the Thugs or the Pimps. Not too much of a stretch of the imagination if you just go forward far enough.

Ares

Almost Shot My Eye Out

Tonight was the first in what will probably be many viewings this holiday season of A Christmas Story. It was with belated irony that I remembered I too had a Red Ryder BB gun when I was about Ralphie’s age. I also recalled that I really did almost shoot my eye out. One of those hundreds of childhood moments you’re glad your mother wasn’t there to witness. (I’d have to say a close second was setting the back yard on fire when I was 13.) Moms just don’t understand the relationship between a boy and his BB gun. Before you hit puberty it’s probably the strongest you bond with any implement. What moms also don’t know is that the Red Ryder is a gateway gun. It starts with BB guns, then by the time you’re a teenager you just can’t get enough of that .22 rifle. By early adulthood you’re up to .308’s and 30-06’s. Somewhere around your early to mid twenties it grows into 1911-style .45’s and 12 gauges. By my 30’s it was an AR-15 with magazine connector and a Trijicon Reflex. I think the only place left for me to go is a Springfield Armory standard M1A or a Barrett model M468. Dad, I raise my glass of Tang in salute to your calling that one from way back, and taking all the heat came with it.

Ares

Metal Abuse

In the wee small hours of this morning I happened to get a few moments with my remote and television. VH1 had something called Metal Mania listed in the directory. When I was freshly pubescent VH1 was where mini-van driving soccer moms and wine sipping, sweater wearing, sensitive guys got their music. Now they have an ‘effing “metal show”? Thinking it would be interesting to see what passes for “metal” these days, I sat back on the couch and pressed “Enter” on the remote. It’s a good thing I wasn’t drinking, because it would have probably shot out of my nose. Displayed with the prominent “VH1 Classic” symbol in the corner was Judas Priest’s Turbo Lover. A heavy sigh, followed by some drive-by depression, quickly followed. Dammit.

Following closely on the heels of this little booger in the punchbowl of my disposition was a viewing of Mad Max2: The Road Warrior. Many a Sunday afternoon was pissed away with me, Jeff, and Matt watching that little celluloid gem. You absolutely have to be a teenage boy to truly enjoy that movie. (It’s where we went in the entertainment continuum after we discovered girls.) The only way to get three boys in puberty to be quiet for an hour and a half was to pop that cassette into the top-loading VCR. One question occurred to me as I watched The Road Warrior. The characters in that movie are dressed pretty much exactly like all of the metal bands that passed through the ‘80’s. Is that movie where that wardrobe guidance came from? Somebody older than me answer that one, I was still in Toughskins when The Road Warrior was in theaters.

On top of this now XM has an all-Led Zeppelin channel. I think Don Henley said it best in The Boys of Summer: “Out on the road today I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac, a little voice inside my head said don’t look back.”

Ares

Damnable Statistics

You can do all sorts of things with numbers. A data set can be used to prove or disprove a given position, depending on the author’s angle and objective. Just like lawyers can make facts irrelevant by composing a better argument, writers can pull statistics as far as their talent will take them. It was with this in mind that I came across a Congressional Research Service report entitled American War and Military Operations Casualties: Lists and Statistics.

I think we can safely assume from the report CRS doesn’t have a political axe to grind. It’s very Joe Friday “Just the facts, Ma’am”. These numbers don’t tell too much of a story by themselves, but they offer some interesting insight. From 1980 to 1983 there were 7091 military deaths. From 2004 through the end of 2006 there were 5674 military deaths. Total military deaths from 2001 through 2006 are 8795. From 1980 through 1985 there were 13807 fatalities. Mind you, some of those where due to places like Beirut and Grenada, but even with those combat fatalities factored in there’s still quite a gap. The really interesting statistic is the suicide numbers. We occasionally get hit with stories about the jump in military suicides since invading Iraq. From 1980 through 1985 there were 1444 self-inflicted life exits. From 2001 through 2006 there were 960. The highest scoring year since 2000 (2004 with 188) is lower than the lowest year of the 1980’s (1983 with 218).

What does all this tell us? Not much overall. Numbers don’t tell the story, context does. For me, this is further evidence of one of Thomas Barnett’s theories that the world is actually getting to be a better, safer place. Hard to believe that if you imbibe in the daily multi-media swill that’s pushed in front of us, but if you dig a little deeper and look a little more critically you can find it. Now if we could just get people to stop plugging into that pleasure center in the brain that is activated by distant feelings of doom. I’ll do my part by starting on myself.

Ares

Happy Birthday P.J.

A bit fat Ares and Athena happy birthday goes out to P.J. O’Rourke, who turns 60 today. Congratulations P.J., you’re now the old man you spent your youth railing against. For those not familiar, P.J. is the smartest funny man that nobody reads. Okay, some of you read him. My next door neighbor economics professor uses Eat the Rich as an intro text, as well he should. P.J. has the rare ability to entertain and inform at the same time. Give War a Chance and All the Trouble in the World should be required reading for all high school graduates. Parliament of Whores should be the nationwide high school civics text.

Our Founding Fathers lacked the special literary skills with which modern writers on the subject of government are so richly endowed. When they wrote the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, they found themselves more or less forced to come to the point. So clumsy of thought and pen were the Founders that even today, seven generations later, we can tell what they were talking about.

The opening lines of Eat the Rich hit the literary nail on the head.

I had one fundamental question about economics: Why do some places prosper and thrive while others just suck? It’s not a matter or brains. No part of the earth (with the possible exception of Brentwood) is dumber than Beverly Hills, and the residents are wading in gravy. In Russia, meanwhile, where chess is a spectator sport, they’re boiling stones for soup. Nor can education be the reason. Fourth graders in the American school system know what a condom is but aren’t sure about 9 x 7. Natural resources aren’t the answer. Africa has diamonds, gold, uranium, you name it. Scandinavia has little and is frozen besides. Maybe culture is the key, but wealthy regions such as the local mall are famous for lacking it.

P.J., I hope there’s more where that came from.

Ares

Create A Flow of Dollars

After another long silence I’m back at the keyboard helm. That whole earning a living thing sort of got in the way of blogtime. Part of the reason for my silence is that I simply haven’t had much to say. I subscribe to the less-is-more theory of blogging. If I were advancing an academic interest or chronicling an ongoing whatever there would be cause for more frequency. But this is mainly just rant space.

One little juicy thing caught my eye in today’s online Atlanta Urinal-Constipation. Nice, big piece about the Senate investigation into the finances of a few mega-churches in town. The two big ones are Eddie Long’s Newbirth and Creflo Dollar (for those out of town, I swear I’m not making that name up) and his World Changers. Seems Creflo took in $69 million in 2006. That’s a lot of collection plate passes. In the piece he says he doesn’t receive any income from the church, and his revenue is derived from real estate. Wonder where he got the money for his real estate investments? Also says that the church ‘bought’ him a Rolls Royce. ‘Nuff said on that one. Eddie Long isn’t quite as conspicuous with his wealth, although he’s rolling as well. Although the money is theirs to do with as they please, it raises the good question of what does a minister need with a private jet? Suicidal Tendencies nailed this one eloquently in their 1990 ditty called “Send Me Your Money”. Ah, the classics.

I suppose on some level this is a mark of progress. What’s good enough for Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson is good enough for Eddie Long. Equal opportunity hucksterism at work. The worrisome aspect of Creflo and Eddie’s churches is the underground power. There are a lot of buried cables of political current at work here. Vernon Jones, my favorite local elected idiot savant, has been playing touch & rub under the table with local preachers for years. He’s not the first; the Southern Baptists have been doing this for over a hundred years in this town. Vernon leased a county building to a local church for a buck a year right after he was elected. When he fired the police chief a few years ago, a local preacher was tasked with going to the chief’s home to tell him. (Typical Vernon, didn’t even have the sack to tell him face to face like a man.)

Back to Creflo, anybody that’s watched him preach will get a familiar feeling. Creflo comes off as a pimp in a thousand dollar suit. Hey, I just had an idea for slogan for World Changers: Pimpin for Jesus. Or maybe the less caustic “Blinging for Jesus”. I actually sort of hope this Senate investigation doesn’t run too far. Not because there isn’t anything to find, but because of the price we’ll pay if it goes too deep. If it gets beyond cursory it will immediately become racial and we won’t be able to swing a dead cat without tales of victimization. What I really wish is that some A-list investigative journalist/author would do a thorough book about the power/wealth nexus of these churches and politics. Mark Bowden would probably come away thinking Somalia was simple by comparison.

Ares