Bugliosi Hits a "Home Run"

I have long believed and advocated that George W. Bush must be tried for war crimes as a result of his dishonest and illegal prosecution of the war in Iraq. Now, Vincent Bugliosi, best known for his prosecution of Charles Manson and other defendants in the 1969 murders of Sharon Tate and the LaBiancas, has published a book on doing just that.

In 2001 he wrote "The Betrayal of America: How the Supreme Court Undermined the Constitution and Chose Our President", an indictment of the actions of the U.S. Supreme Court in stopping the recounts in Florida and appointing George Bush as the 43rd President of the United States.

Now he's written an even stronger, more forceful indictment of Bush himself. His latest, just published the other day, is entitled "The Prosecution of George W. Bush for Murder". I have not, as yet, read this book, but he has a website (http://www.prosecutionofbush.com) where you can read about the book, as well as some excerpts. I commend you to it and am including one of the excerpts here in the hopes someone who might not ordinarily do so will find it.

BTW - If you can read this without being thoroughly disgusted (whether you believe him guilty of murder or not), you too may quality as a bona fide sociopath. And, yes, I know it's long, but it's worth every single moment it takes to read it.

Cranky

Bush's Reaction to War
By Vincent Bugliosi

How has George Bush reacted to the hell he created in Iraq, to the thousands of lives that have been lost in the war, and to the enormous and endless suffering that the survivors of the victims -- their loved ones -- have had to endure?

I've always felt that impressions are very important in life, and other than "first impressions," they are usually right. Why? Because impressions, we know, are formed over a period of time. They are the accumulation of many words and incidents, many or most of which one has forgotten, but which are nonetheless assimilated into the observer's subconscious and thus make their mark. In other words, you forgot the incident, but it added to the impression. "How do you feel about David? Do you feel he's an honest person?" "Yeah, I do." "Why do you say that about him? Can you give me any examples that would cause you to say he's honest?" "No, not really, at least not off the top of my head. But I've known David for over ten years, and my sense is that he's an honest person."

I have a very distinct impression that with the exception of a vagrant tear that may have fallen if he was swept up, in the moment, at an emotional public ceremony for American soldiers who have died in the war, George Bush hasn't suffered at all over the monumental suffering, death, and horror he has caused by plunging this nation into the darkness of the Iraq war, probably never losing a wink of sleep over it. Sure, we often hear from Bush administration sources, or his family, or from Bush himself, about how much he suffers over the loss of American lives in Iraq. But that dog won't run. How do we just about know this is nonsense? Not only because the words he has uttered could never have escaped from his lips if he were suffering, but because no matter how many American soldiers have died on a given day in Iraq (averaging well over two every day), he is always seen with a big smile on his face that same day or the next, and is in good spirits. How would that be possible if he was suffering? For example, the November 3, 2003, morning New York Times front-page headline story was that the previous day in Fallouja, Iraq, insurgents "shot down an American helicopter just outside the city in a bold assault that killed 16 soldiers and wounded 20 others. It was the deadliest attack on American troops since the United States invaded Iraq in March." Yet later in that same day when Bush arrived for a fund-raiser in Birmingham, Alabama, he was smiling broadly, and Mike Allen of the Washington Post wrote that "the President appeared to be in a fabulous mood." This is merely one of hundreds of such observations made about Bush while the brutal war continued in Iraq.

And even when Bush is off camera, we have consistently heard from those who have observed him up close how much he seems to be enjoying himself. When Bush gave up his miles of running several times a week because of knee problems, he took up biking. "He's turned into a bike maniac," said Mark McKinnon in March of 2005, right in the middle of the war. McKinnon, a biking friend of Bush's who was Bush's chief media strategist in his 2004 reelection campaign, also told the New York Times's Elisabeth Bumiller about Bush: "He's as calm and relaxed and confident and happy as I've ever seen him." Happy? Under the horrible circumstances of the war, where Bush's own soldiers are dying violent deaths, how is that even possible?

In a time of war and suffering, Bush's smiles, joking, and good spirits stand in stark contrast to the demeanor of everyone of his predecessors and couldn't possibly be more inappropriate. Michael Moore, in his motion picture documentary Fahrenheit 9/11, captured this fact and the superficiality of Bush well with a snippet from a TV interview Bush gave on the golf course following a recent terrorist attack. Bush said, "I call upon all nations to do everything they can to stop these terrorist killers. Thank you." Then, without missing a single beat, he said in reference to a golf shot he was about to hit: "Now watch this drive."

Before I get into specific instances of Bush laughing and having fun throughout the entire period of the inferno he created in Iraq, I want to discuss a number of more indirect but revealing incidents that reflect he could not care less about the human suffering and carnage going on in Iraq, or anywhere.

1. The first inkling I got that Bush didn't care about the suffering or anyone, not just those dying in Iraq, was from an article in the September 22, 2001, New York Times just eleven days after 9/11. Though 3,000 Americans had been murdered and the nation was in agony and shock, the man who should have been leading the mourning was, behind the scenes, not affected in the tiniest way. The article, by Frank Bruni, said that "Mr. Bush's nonchalant, jocular demeanor remains the same. In private, say several Republicans close to the administration, he still slaps backs and uses baseball terminology, at one point promising that the terrorists were not 'going to steal home on me.' He is not staying up all night, or even most of the night. He is taking time to play with his dogs and his cat. He is working out most days." So right after several thousand Americans lost their lives in a horrible catastrophe, behind the scenes Bush is his same old backslapping self, and he's not letting the tragedy interfere in the slightest way with the daily regimen of his life that he enjoys.

In fact, he himself admitted to the magazine Runners World (August 23, 2002) that after the Afghanistan war began: "I have been running with a little more intensity . . . It helps me to clear my mind." (In other words, Bush likes to clear his mind of the things he's supposed to be thinking about.) Remarkably finding time in the most important job on earth to run six days a week, Bush added: "It's interesting that my times have become faster . . . For me, the psychological benefit [in running] is enormous. You tend to forget everything that's going on in your mind and just concentrate on the time and distance." But even this obscene indulgence after 9/11 and during wartime by the man with more responsibility than anyone in the world wasn't enough for Bush. He told the magazine: "I try to go for longer runs, but it's tough around here at the White House on the outdoor track. It's sad that I can't run longer. It's one of the saddest things about the presidency." Imagine that. Among all the things that the president of the United States could be sad about during a time of war, not being able to run longer six days a week is up there near the top of the list.

A New York Times article not long after 9/11 (November 5, 2001) reported that Bush had told his friends (obviously with pride) that "his runs on the Camp David trails through the Maryland woods have produced his fastest time in a decade, three miles in 21 minutes and 6 seconds." USA Today (October 29, 2001) reported that Bush used to run 3 miles in 25 minutes and now he was "boasting to friends and staffers" about his new time, and was "now running 4 miles a day."

So with his approval rating soaring to 90 percent in the wake of 9/11 -- and with his being the main person in America whose job required that he be totally engaged every waking hour in working diligently on this nation's response to 9/11 -- Bush, remarkably, was working diligently on improving his time for the mile. I ask you, what American president in history, Republican or Democrat, would have conducted himself this way?

2. One thing about Bush. He's so dense that he makes remarks an intelligent person who was as much of a scoundrel as he would never make. They'd keep their feelings, which they would know to be very shameful, to themselves. On December 21, 2001, just a few months after 9/11 -- a tragedy that shocked the nation and the world in which 3,000 Americans were consumed by fires, some choosing to jump to their deaths out of windows eighty or more stories high -- Bush, who could only have been thinking of himself, told the media: "All in all, it's been a fabulous year for Laura and me." He said this because that is exactly the way he felt. What difference does 9/11 make? I'm president. I love it, and Laura and I are having a ball.

Indeed, on January 20, 2005, right in the midst of the hell on earth Bush created in Iraq -- when the carnage there was near its worst and American soldiers and Iraqi citizens were dying violent deaths every day -- Bush, referring to himself and his wife, told thousands of partying supporters at one of his nine inaugural balls: "We're having the time of our life." Can you even begin to imagine Roosevelt in the midst of the Second World War, Truman during the Korean War, or LBJ and Nixon during the Vietnam War, saying something like this?

3. Does it not stand to reason that if Bush were suffering over the daily killings and tragedy in Iraq, he would be working every waking hour to lessen the mounting number of casualties as well as find a way to satisfactorily end the terrible conflict? I mean, as president, that's what you'd expect of him, right? Isn't that his job? Yet we know that although Bush is still in office, he has already spent far more time on vacation than any other president in American history. For instance, by April 11, 2004 (he was inaugurated January 20, 2001), he had visited his cherished ranch in Crawford a mind-boggling thirty-three times and spent almost eight months of his presidency there.

Although the office of the presidency follows the president wherever he goes twenty-four hours a day, and at least some part of every day on vacation, no matter how small, was spent by Bush attending to his duties as president, we also know that Bush's main purpose when he goes on vacation, obviously and by definition, is to vacation, not work. CBS News White House correspondent Mark Knoller, who travels with Bush and keeps track of such things, told me that as of January 1, 2008, in Bush's less than seven years as president, he visited his ranch in Texas an unbelievable 69 times, spending, per Knoller, "all or part of 448 days on vacation there." As amazing as this is, Bush also made, Knoller says, 132 visits to Camp David during this period, spending "all or part of 421 days there," and 10 visits to his family's vacation compound at Kennebunkport, Maine, spending "all or part of 39 days there."

So the bottom line is that of a total of approximately 2,535 days as president, most of them during a time of war, Bush spent all or a part or 908 days, an incredible 36 percent of his time, on vacation or at retreat places. Hard to believe, but true. Nine hundred and eight days is two and a half years of Bush's presidency. Two and a half years of the less than seven years of his presidency in which his main goal was to kick back and have fun. You see, the White House digs, with a pool, theater, gymnasium, etc., weren't enjoyable enough for Bush. He wanted a more enjoyable place to be during his life as president. *

My position in life is infinitely less important than Bush's, yet during the above same period of Bush's presidency, I not only worked much longer hours every day than Bush, I worked seven days a week, never took one vacation, and only took three days off to go to the desert with my wife to celebrate our fiftieth wedding anniversary. If it had not been for the anniversary, I wouldn't have even taken those three days off. I realize I take working to an extreme, living by the clock each day, always looking up to see how much time I have left, working from morning to morning (retiring usually around two in the morning and starting my day at ten in the morning). Still, it is striking to consider that in seven years, I took 3 days off and Bush, the president of the United States, took 908. Even Americans who lead a more normal life than I, even fat-cat corporate executives, haven't taken anywhere near the time away from their work that Bush has. Indeed, I think we can safely say that even though Bush has the most important and demanding job in this entire land, he has irresponsibly taken far more time off from his job to have fun during the past seven years than any worker or company executive in America!!! Is Bush, or is he not, a disgrace of the very first order?

*Remarkably, during his campaign for reelection in 2004 Bush very frequently spoke of the "hard work" he and his administration were engaging in. This was the first time I had ever heard an American president speak of the "hard work" involved in his job. I have heard them speak of the immense "burden" of the office of the presidency being responsible for the destiny and welfare of millions of people. But you see, for someone like Bush who was born on home plate and thought he had hit a home run, anything he does, any effort at all, he considers "hard work."

In Celebration of Jerks?

I suspect anyone with half a brain is aware that Bill O'Reilly is, perhaps, one of the biggest Assholes in the known universe. Recently, for reasons that completely escape me, he was chosen to receive the highest honor bestowed at this year's Emmy Awards, the Governors Award. A Boston TV host on Comcast's CN8 Channel in Boston, Barry Nolan, protested the award and launched an email campaign to encourage members of the New England Emmy chapter to join him in recognizing that, ". . . at least the people who had been honored in the past had pretty much followed the part of the Hippocratic oath that says, 'First, do no harm.'"



As a result of Mr. Nolan's efforts, and his temerity in pointing out what should be patently obvious to anyone interested in actual "fair and balanced" reporting, he was fired from his position. Today he posted on Think Progress and I love what he said about what constitutes free speech. He says it all got him to ". . . thinking about the myth of free speech. In today’s America, speech is only “free” when you are talking down to someone less powerful than you. Speak 'up' – and look out."

You can read the rest of his post here. You can also read more at Think Progress if you've a mind to. They cover some great stuff . . . if you're a progressive. If not, well . . . you probably don't belong here reading my blog. Go visit one of the premiere Assholes in the world - O'Reilly, Limbaugh - take your pick. There are far too many others and it's not my job to point them out to anyone.

Cranky

Payback Will Definitely be a Bitch

OK - I've built this modest blog on the premise that the world is filled with Assholes. At first, I vented a bit about the stupid people and things I encountered in my life and, for some time now, I've wished to change the tenor of my diatribes a mite. I didn't actually want to entirely shift focus, merely broaden my outlook and take into consideration some of the first-class Assholes I don't necessarily meet in my daily life but who are, nonetheless, out there in the public such that I can't miss them unless I work real hard at it.

I don't get any of my news from the MSM (Mainstream Media, for those of you who aren't familiar with the acronym - or, as some may think of it - the epithet) any longer. I've given up on any of the standard print or broadcast media to convey the truth. Hell . . . they don't even do a very good job of covering the bullshit they do; sound bites and half-truths are all they seem to be willing or capable of providing any longer. There is one valued exception with respect to the broadcast world and that's KPFK, here in the greater Los Angeles area, one of the Pacific Network's five radio stations.

What I really like about KPFK is, with the exception of their news broadcasts, they cover stories in depth. Seldom do I listen to Democracy Now with Amy Goodman, or Uprising with Sonali Kolhatkar, or Beneath the Surface with Jerry Quickley without getting a least a half-hour of coverage of a story; frequently with many voices contributing to the discussion. Never vitriol, though they cover subjects the perpetrators of which deserve the scorn and opprobrium of all thoughtful citizens of not only the United States, but the world. Did I mention Explorations with Dr. Michio Kaku? OK - that's another story. Let's get back to first-class Assholes.

So . . . I do read the Huffington Post, along with a few other blogs, for my news and entertainment. Today it was pointed out that one of the pundits (note the definition states ". . . may be used in a derogatory manner as well - ahem) on Fox News actually conflated Barack Obama with Osama, suggesting it would be useful (and funny) if someone assassinated both of them. You can see for yourself below.



Somehow, I don't think this is terribly funny. Actually, the more I think about it the more I am looking forward to that day of reckoning, when Fox News, the people who have hijacked the Republican party, and this administration are called to task for what they've done to our country. This kind of crap just can't be allowed to stand and, I believe, won't for all that much longer. It is, perhaps, an aphorism (certainly the phrase has been used in numerous ways) that "the darkest hour is always before the dawn". I once thought that darkest hour was during the war in Vietnam, but I was obviously wrong, especially since we were treated to the machinations and despicable regimes of both Reagan and the first Bush after that misbegotten adventure was over. I am hopeful we have seen that darkest hour though, to be honest, I'm not sure things won't actually get a lot worse before they get better.

There are signs, most notably the campaign of Barack Obama, that the tide is turning; that we might wrest our government from the thieves who have usurped our power and used it to enrich their friends and cronies. We should keep in mind, however, that history is neither determined (nor made) by individuals. We have always been taught the "Hero" theory of history, and it is generally written about single, extraordinary humans doing extraordinary things. I don't believe such a viewpoint is accurate. Howard Zinn's book "A People's History of the United States" does a far better job than I can of making the point that history is made by the people. There may be individuals who are thrust into the limelight, but without the support of numerous (sometimes countless thousands) of others, their efforts would go all but unnoticed.

When we do get our country back, and I'll be quite happy just to see the trend reversed - to have our nation start the long slog back to being a country whose people try to do the right things; who aren't willing to send their children and their treasure around the globe, interfering in the affairs of other nations solely for the profit of a very few Americans (and others, we should point out, who are in league with them), perhaps we can start making those guilty of the crimes perpetrated in our name pay.

When that time comes, there are many who must pay the price for what they have wrought. Those who have profited from the war in Iraq; those who have supported and enabled them; those who have lied and cheated and foisted their hypocritical views of how and why we should engage in these atrocities; all of them deserve to be brought before a court of competent jurisdiction and tried for their crimes. Yes. I am presuming guilt, as it's clear as the nose on your face what they have done. Fortunately, more and more people are seeing this and - if we're lucky - it won't be long before justice is served.

Cranky

As the father of two Chinese girls, and the husband of a third-generation Japanese-American (Sansei), I am deeply affected and troubled by racism. Not that I wasn't aware of, and sympathetic to, the plight of all people of color before I met my wife; but the effects are more personal than they could have been before. Here's a short YouTube video on Asian-Americans for Obama I think is worthy of sharing.





Hope you enjoy it and give it some thought. I will have more to say about this in the future.

Cranky

Mitt Romney Jerkorama

I haven't much time to say anything here; getting ready to head out the door to work. I nevertheless had to take a moment to share a wonderful blog by Chris Kelly, on the Huffington Post. Lucky him. He gets paid to just listen to the debates and write something about them. Than again - he's forced to listen to the debates; something I find excruciatingly painful. Anyway, you owe it to yourself to check out this blog. Here 'tis.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-kelly/mitticisms-amnesty_b_80162.html

Enjoy!

Never Too Late

A few years ago I decided to roast a turkey on my Weber Silver C. I had purchased a rotisserie designed to work with my Weber grill and I was determined to find a recipe that would provide something a bit different than the oven-roasted turkey I had enjoyed on Thanksgiving for so many years. Happily, I found a recipe in another of Weber's contributions to the art of grilling, and I herewith present it as the holy grail of best-tasting turkey recipes. This one provided a richness of flavor that went to the bone, and I have never forgotten how special it was. It's too late for this year's Thanksgiving holiday; perhaps I'll make it for Chriskwanzukah. I produce it below for anyone to enjoy. It's really quite easy and incredibly delicioso. Enjoy!

Sage, Orange, and Clove Rotisserie Turkey

From Weber’s Big Book of Grilling™

For the rub:

2 tablespoons granulated orange peel
1 tablespoon dried sage
1 tablespoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
1 turkey, 12 to 14 pounds
2 small oranges, washed and dried
12 whole cloves
6 medium garlic cloves, crushed
1 bunch fresh sage, tied with cotton string

To make the rub: In a small bowl combine the rub ingredients. Set aside. Remove the pop-up timer, as well as the neck, giblets, and any excess fat from the turkey and discard. Rinse the turkey, inside and out, under cold water and pat dry with paper towels. Pierce the oranges several times with a knife and insert six whole cloves into each of them. Put the clove-studded oranges, garlic, and sage into the turkey cavity. Truss the turkey with cotton string. Pin the neck skin flap to the body with two or three small trussing needles.

Skewer the turkey lengthwise through the oranges and center on the spit. Rub the entire exterior with the rub mixture, pressing it into the skin. Set the spit on the rotisserie and let the turkey rotate over Indirect Medium heat until the internal temperature reaches 170°F in the breast and 180°F in the thickest part of the thigh, 2 ¼ to 2 ½ hours.

Turn off the rotisserie. Wearing barbecue mitts, carefully remove the spit from the rotisserie and place it on a cutting board. Loosely cover the turkey with aluminum foil and allow to rest for at least 20 minutes. Remove the spit and discard the oranges, garlic, and sage. Carve the turkey into serving pieces. Serve warm.

Makes 12 to 14 servings

I'm Baaaaaaaaaack

OK - I haven't posted for a long time now. This is somewhat related to my wife, my daughter, and me returning to China last year to adopt our second child. She turned out to be a pistol (we nicknamed her "Typhoon Girl") and - well - along with work, and now school, I just didn't have much time to post. This was exacerbated by the fact that I'm not really all that cranky and I just ran out of things to beat people over the head with . . . at least these small social things I've written about.

Anyway, I'd kind of like to get back in the saddle here and don't much care if anyone pays attention or not . . . I just want to spend a little time now and then making a few points.

So I'm starting off with a little thought about the mainstream media and, especially, passing on a post I just read on HuffPo entitled "Lapdogs of the Corporate Press". I have all but stopped watching anything euphemistically called "News" on any of the cable channels or major broadcast channels. I seldom read the paper, with the now infrequent exception of the Sunday Los Angeles Times's Opinion section (which is decidedly more conservative than I can remember). I only listen to KPFK, my local Pacifica station, not merely because they share my view of the world, but also because they spend more time on subjects than you will ever get on any of the other outlets.

Now to a little test I wish to offer you, dear reader (and I probably am even being optimistic in using the singular; is there a tense for imaginary people?), and I'm going to try and embed a link to the little video that is the meat of the above-mentioned post. This may not work. Hmmm. It adds a nice black box below this text and doesn't even show up in the "preview", but I'm going to post it anyway to see what happens when it's for real. Anyway, it's nice to be back and typing here.

So . . . if it doesn't work, and on the off chance someone actually visits here, I'm adding the the link to this great video here.

Update at 1920 hrs. - same date - It didn't work, I don't have time to figure it out, so I took it out. The link works just fine.

Another update - way after the first one (Hey! So I don't always re-check every damn post - better late than never, eh?) Anyway I'm trying again now that Blogger has changed some of their code to more easily accommodate videos, though I think its mostly slanted toward YouTube. Anyway, here we go.




Holy Moly . . . it works!!

READ THIS; YOU WILL WEEP

You may not like the N.Y. Times. I'm certainly not enamored of them. However, my take is they were far too willing to follow the lead of this group of criminals and thugs who occupy the White House currently. I think "the" paper acted as a shameless apologist for numerous oversights, mis-statement, lies, and negligent acts - far too many to find it within myself to easily forgive and forget.

Nevertheless, there is a book review appearing on their website I think everyone should read, especially if you never read the book. The book in question is titled "Fiasco", by Thomas E. Ricks, senior Pentagon correspondent for the Washington Post, and the review itself is plenty damning of the Bush administration and virtually every (wrong) move they made from the runup to the blundered execution of the war in Iraq.

Here's a quote from the review, which can be located here:

"Mr. Ricks’s narrative is based on hundreds of interviews and more than 37,000 pages of documents, and many of the book’s most scorching assessments of the White House and Pentagon’s conduct of the war come from members of the uniformed military and official military reports.

"An after-action review from the Third Infantry Division underscores the Pentagon’s paucity of postwar planning, stating that “there was no guidance for restoring order in Baghdad, creating an interim government, hiring government and essential services employees, and ensuring that the judicial system was operational.” And an end-of-tour report by a colonel assigned to the Coalition Provisional Authority memorably summarized his office’s work as “pasting feathers together, hoping for a duck.”

"Mr. Ricks writes in these pages as both a reporter and an analyst, and many of his findings amplify observations made by other journalists and former insiders in earlier books: namely that the Bush White House routinely ignored the advice of experts (be they military, diplomatic or Middle East experts); that Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld’s determination to conduct the war with a light, fast force had crippling consequences for the American military’s ability to restore law and order in post-invasion Iraq; and that infighting between the State and Defense Departments, between civilians at the Pentagon and the uniformed military, and between the military and the Coalition Provisional Authority severely hampered the making and execution of United States policy."

THANK YOU - I THINK

So what is it with Thank You cards? When did they become de rigeur . . . a fixture of every child's birthday and gift-giving Winter solstice celebration?

My daughter celebrated her 5th birthday recently and we had a party for over twenty children and adults. We provided entertainment for the children, lots of food and drink for everbody, really nice loot bags for the kids, a large cake, and a pinata filled with lots of candy. My wife spent around a week's worth of her spare time researching and purchasing everything necessary to make the kids feel special. This included purchasing inexpensive cowboy/cowgirl hats and bandanas, as the party was held at a nearby farm where the kids could feed animals and enjoy some really fun and clever rides. I spent a good 10 - 15 hours running around and picking up things and making arrangements. We really wanted everyone to have a good time.

Now comes the aftermath. My wife is not the best at sending out Thank You cards, and I have virtually no experience doing it at all. I mean, isn't it against the law for men to do this kind of thing - no matter how sensitive they are? So . . . here it is, a couple of weeks later and the cards she took the time to purchase are still sitting on the table . . . in their original box. They're taunting me. Like chocolate in a candy dish, I sometimes hear them calling out my name.

Isn't a sincere "Thank You" at the party's end enough for everybody? I don't know; maybe she feels better about not doing it than I do, but why do I have this sinking feeling we must carry some sort of guilt because we have yet to send a hand-written, personalized note written by us as though it was our child channeling Emily Post or Martha Stewart?

Here's an example of a Thank You we received the day after a 5-year-old's birthday party:

Thank for coming to my birthday party. I was really happy you could be there. The Spiderman backpack will be really useful next year in Kindergarten to carry my laptop as I'm learning how to post covered calls without the help of my broker.

Now how are we going to follow that?

PISS OFF

I was born and raised a Jew in a Christian country. My best friends and many of my cousins (due to a "mixed" marriage) were Catholic. I spent most of my formative years immersed in the ideology and dogma of two of the west's "great" religions.

I have since looked carefully at Buddhism, Taoism, Shintoism, Hinduism, Islam, and have a great deal of respect for Zen. I am, however, essentially an atheist. I sometimes refer to myself as a Quantum Gestalt Humanist. I can no more prove the non-existence of (one or more) God(s) than you can prove the existence of any God(s).

But I have faith. I have faith that my life has purpose, as does yours. I have faith that the universe is unfolding as it will, regardless of what you or I believe in. I have faith that the Sun will rise tomorrow and that two atoms of hydrogen and one of oxygen will make a molecule of water.

I have faith that the "fact" of evolution is far more mysterious and wonderful than any story told by the authors of the Bible, and that this world is absolutely amazing and beautiful and wonderful.

I'm also quite convinced that the religious right would gleefully hang me by my ankles merely because I don't share their "beliefs", and that is something I will not tolerate. Frankly, I don't care what you "believe" in, or what your faith says is the way the world works. It's really none of my business. But the moment you start trying to tell me how I have to believe, how I have to live my life, and that I am wrong or evil or bad because I don't agree with you, is the moment you and I go our separate ways.

Believe what you want, you Christian zealots and fundamentalists, but DON'T TREAD ON ME.

WHAT THE FLOCK?

Jesus H. Christ on a fucking stick. Damn it, I'm pissed. All these fucking bloggers out there seem to have endless hours to research and write. Me, I've got a full-time job figuring out how to hurl humans into space. It just pisses me off. I want to spend my time studying the nuances and quirks of all the sociopaths and megalomaniacs who reside and/or work within the beltway, but the need to actually make a living is getting in my way!

I really want to dissect the people who purport to represent us. I don't believe more than a very small minority have any understanding of what our lives are like, let alone possess the kind of empathy and compassion it takes to represent us adequately. This goes for most Democrats, as well as virtually all Republicans.

Now I don't mean to be unfair, and God (or whoever's in charge of these things) only knows there's plenty enough greed, avarice, and sloth to go around, but the Republicans are in charge of everything at present (Executive, Legislative, and - arguably - Judicial branches) and things have never quite been as incredibly fucked up as they (crazy me) seem to be.

I really don't know for sure that it would be any different had the election not been stolen from Al Gore (yes. I know you think this is sour grapes. I recommend Vincent Bugliosi's book "The Betrayal of America: How the Supreme Court Undermined the Constitution and Chose our President") or from John Kerry for that matter. They all seem to bow to the same master - the almighty dollar.

Yet, is it so crazy of me to opine that this administration, and the zealous sycophants who enable it, have pretty much refined narrow-minded hypocrisy into a purified essential oil (forgive me) oozing self-deluded righteousness? I have a hard time convincing myself I'm not seeing what is really happening. How about you?

Anyway, I have neither the time nor the energy (at this point) to engage in the level of research and study I believe this effort really requires but, much like the current administration, this isn't going to keep me from speaking my mind. It may be an unwarranted, self-administered pat on my own back, but I kind of think I have a better grasp on what's actually happening in our country, and in the world, than this administration has. At the very least, I'm not making money off of my decisions. How many ways can you say "conflict of interest"?

BACK FEINGOLD

I've been awfully busy lately. The transition from the company who sold us to the company who bought us is almost complete. At least, the IT transition; we're breaking the electronic umbilical cord this weekend, and it's been a struggle to deal with all the issues it's created.

Since I haven't really had the time to post anything (only partly true; I've been having trouble deciding on how far to take this particular blog in the direction I'm contemplating - more about that later), I thought I would just make sure the two or three people who happen to come here have a chance to keep up with what I think is important in our national discourse.

Jane Hamsher wrote a little piece on Firedog Lake about Russ Feingold's appearance on "The Daily Show". You can read it here. You can see a video clip of the show at Crooks and Liars - here. I really like Jane's writing, I can almost smell the blood dripping off her canines. She's deliciously vicious. Here's a sample of just how nasty she can be.

I am becoming more and more enamored of this guy, precisely because he is speaking truth to power and because he's not pandering. It's high time we had some politicans with conviction, who will stand up and say what needs to be said without calculating how it will affect their next election cycle.

CALLING ALL CARS

I used to have this dream, even as a child too young to drive. In this dream I could talk to people in their cars through their radios . . . even if the radio wasn't on. This way I could tell them what I thought of them and there was nothing they could do about it.

I could use it today on all kinds of assholes and jerks. I want to know why the Department of Motor Vehicles (or whatever the fuck they call it in your State) doesn't test for sociopaths before giving out licenses. Would that be so hard?

Now that I think about it, it would probably shut down the economy and every aspect of our so-called civilized society. Think of all the soccer moms, in their Hummers, Armadas, Expeditions, and fucking Mars Rovers who would have to walk their kids to wherever it is they're taking them to in those giant, oversize, over-hyped, gas-guzzling boats masquerading as cars. And don't even talk to me about all the folks on the road who are obviously far more important than the rest of us. You know the ones - can't wait their turn; don't merge safely and courteously. The dickheads, frequently driving sports cars, or luxury cars - take your pick.

One of the things I'd like to ask them, in addition to "why on Earth, when there was nobody behind me, did you wait until I was two car lengths away before pulling into my lane?" (see my earlier post - here - for more), is "Did you pay extra for those fucking turn signals you don't seem to be able to understand how to use?"

Why is it people will approach an intersection where you are patiently waiting for traffic to clear, fully conscious they are going to turn and you needn't worry about them (at least not if they fucking signalled their intentions with those turn signal thingies they paid for but don't use) and not even notice you are there?

And the inverse is true as well. Here you are approaching an intersection where lots of people do turn, but you're going straight. These clowns are so used to people not signalling that they pre-empt you and just pull out in front of you. Then they either look surprised, or actually put out, that you didn't do what they believed you should have done.

Like I said, this world is filled to the brim with assholes. I want my radio transmitter. Maybe I should talk to my friends at JPL.

I LOVE YOU. YOU LOVE ME!

Damn! I'm trying to do at least one of three things today: Engage in some spirited email conversation with my High School graduation class group site; write something - anything - on my blog site, and/or; get some work done. I've got a monthly newsletter due that was set back by my trip to Houston and a few other things.

But how the hell can I even think about being curmudgeonly (for accomplishing number two, at least) when I'm sitting here listening to Barney, Thomas the damn tank engine, Angelina Ballerina, Kipper the Dog, Sagwa, and Dragon Tales; not to mention Bella Ballerina, the ballet DVD from Australia my daughter might be learning some ballet from.

Not only that, I just got gifted with a cake . . . a cake that suspiciously resembles a blue barrell filled with little, red plastic monkeys with long, curved arms used to hang on to each other; Bella is singing about "eating your fruits and vegetables every day". Is this the right atmosphere for a god damned cranky curmudgeon? I'm not convinced.

And I really wanted to complain about something. God damn it!

SHIT FAHR - AHM GITTIN' HIRE

I was reminded there's a whole lot of Cowboy poetry out there nowadays. A quick Google shows lots of links. Here's the first one returned http://www.cowboypoetry.com/. Anyway, I just wanted to be the first to publish a few Cowboy Haiku. I don't have titles for them; they're fresh off the ol' keyboard. Here ya go, pard. Hope ya lahk 'em.

This cowboy wears spurs
They will jingle all the night
If he gets lucky

My hat does not fit
Perhaps it is because
My head is swollen

Blood on the saddle
Could it mean I really have
Hemorrhoids to boot?

I DON'T THINK I'M CRANKY ENOUGH

I've re-read many of my posts and it seems to me I'm just not cranky enough. Listen. I'm not out in the world every day looking for insults and transgressions against me. I'm just not that offended by all the crap that goes on around my little corner of the world.

Nevertheless, there's plenty out there to be cranky about; it's just not of a personal nature. Oh no. It's far more important than that. Personal insults are . . . well . . . just not that important. I mean you can turn the other cheek, or slap the shit out of someone. Either way, it's between you and him/her and, after all is said and done . . . all is said and done. Next story. Move on.

What's out there to be really cranky about is the lies, distortions, thefts, and homicides being committed in our name on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Our government is out of control and seems to be getting worse every day. Our economy is highly dependent on the suffering of others throughout the world, as it has been at least my entire life. Such is the nature of Imperialism; the thing we're truly world-class at.

So, while I plan on remaining cranky about the "little" things, I'm going to start being a little more verbal about the transgressions I see in government, religion, and all manner of public life. I'm going to spend a little more time putting out my view of the cowards, criminals, and charlatans who are so prominently guiding this country down the road to ruin as fast as their bank accounts can take them.

I GUESS I KNOW MY PLACE

On the way back home we flew out of George Bush Intercontinental Airport. I don’t know why they call it that. What the fuck’s wrong with International? Why intercontinental? Hell, more planes flying in and out of New York, Los Angeles, and Chicago actually fly between continents than they do from George Bush. Why don’t they, in the spirit of the bombastic asshat the airport is named after call it the “Intergalactic” airport or, even better, honor his dumbfuck son and call it the “Intergalactical” airport? That would fit.

So, when I fly on business, which isn’t all that often, I have to fly coach. My company wouldn’t even spring for business class, let alone first class. If I flew a lot, perhaps I would join a frequent flyer club and when I accumulated enough miles I could upgrade once in a while. Anyway, after sitting down in my seat, and just prior to the plane (a Boeing 737) being pushed back from the terminal, the purser comes on the intercom and notifies us that, due to “safety and security reasons”, those of us from rows four through 19 are confined to use of the two bathrooms at the tail of the plane. The front one, due to “safety and security reasons” is limited to the people in that other class of service, ahem, First Class.

I can understand them wanting to keep the unwashed masses away from our betters, but do they have to bullshit us about it? I mean . . . give me a break. Safety and security? If I’m going to hijack a plane, I think I’m going to get me a first class seat. It’s much closer to the cockpit and folks up there are generally viewed with less suspicion than the rabble in the back.

The way they’re doing it, that’s one bathroom (up front) for approximately 8 people in the royalty section, and another two (at the tail) for the remaining 90 in the human cargo section. That makes the first class folks about five times better than the rest of us, yeah?

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM

While in Houston, I stayed at the NASA Clear Lake Hilton. I checked in around 6:00 local time and, in accordance with my company’s policy, I made an allowed phone call to home to assure my family I had arrived safely. I usually don’t bother wearing a watch, as I always have my cell phone with me and it provides me with the most accurate time available. In fact, it even picks up the local time so I don’t have to change it when I travel and, in this case, that is exactly what I did.

My phone told me it was around 6:30. However, I had just forgotten that I was in the Central time zone and it was only 4:30 at home. There was no way my wife was at home and, sure enough, I got our answering machine. I left a very brief message noting my safe arrival and hung up. I couldn’t have been on the phone longer than 45 – 50 seconds.

When I awoke on Friday morning, the day of my departure, as is customary in most hotels nowadays my closing statement for hotel charges had been slipped under my door sometime during the night. I glanced at it and almost fell over. That phone call of less than a minute had been billed to my room for almost $13.00.

I couldn’t believe it. The call I had made later, when someone was actually home and we talked for a while cost almost $30.00. I was dumbfounded at first. I went downstairs for breakfast and, after having some time to think about it, went back upstairs and called to notify the front desk I was checking out. They asked me if everything had been OK and said it had, with the exception of those phone calls. As a result of the complaint, they took the first charge off my bill. I’m still upset about the other charge being so much, but I’m at a bit of a loss for what to do.

The way I’m thinking about it now is that, if my company reimburses me for the call, I probably will just let it go, as it will not be worth the time, effort, and aggravation to do anything about it. However, if they won’t pay for it, or if they pay for only a small portion, I’m going to complain and suggest they push the hotel to put warning stickers on the phones, “WARNING! Use of this phone may be dangerous to your wallet” or something like that.

CAN COOKIES ALTER SPACE & TIME?

It’s been said that flying is hours and hours of crushing boredom punctuated by moments of sheer terror. I’ve experienced that before, but mostly it’s boredom for me. It’s very difficult to sit still for long periods of time, with nothing to do but watch a movie, read a book, sleep, or eat – all done within the confines of a narrow seat with little to no legroom.

Such was my trip to Houston last Wednesday. The first leg was uneventful, except for the fact that it was unnecessary. I started at Bob Hope Airport, which is what they call the Hollywood-Burbank airport (international airport designation BUR). When I was a kid it was called Lockheed Airport, which may give you an idea of just how old I am.

I like flying out of there. It’s fairly small, which means it just can’t get too crowded and you never have to walk too far. It’s also reasonably close to my home, which means I can get there without too much traffic hassle. But I really didn’t need to leave from there, especially to fly first to San Francisco.

This all happened because I was the unknowing victim of a desire by one of my colleagues to fly United Airlines. He has traveled a great deal and has frequent flyer miles, which he uses to get upgrades to better seating; either business or first class.

Unfortunately, the Office Admin who made my reservations merely copied his entire itinerary and changed the name. So, unbeknownst to me, I was placed on a flight to San Francisco, on my way to Houston, Texas, all because my colleague wanted a little more leg room for a three and half hour flight. I would have sat in coach to save myself the extra two and half hours (or more) it took to fly up north and wait for a connecting flight.

One thing I noticed on the plane. United Airlines apparently no longer serves meals on their flights; they offer snacks and “boxes” for you to purchase. I ponied up my $5.00 and bought a box of salami slices, cheese spread and crackers, potato chips, applesauce, and two Partridge Farm Milano cookies (my favorite cookies of all time).

As I prepared to dig in to these treats I had just procured, I realized the box was shrink-wrapped, like a god damned CD. Now, think of it. They won’t let you take a nail clipper on a flight, but they sell you a box of food wrapped so tight you practically need a knife just to get to the perforated strip to open the box. I finally got it open after much effort. What the hell do people with arthritis do?

MY PRE-TRIP THIRST

MY PRE-TRIP THIRST

This'll be a short one. I'm getting ready to attend a NASA Knowledge Management conference in Houston, where I'll be presenting on the history of, and our experience with, an Expert/Expertise location system and knowledgebase that's been used by my company for almost three and half years.

I've been packing (something I'm pretty good at, but still tend to put off 'til the last moment) and am now sitting on the potty (with the lid closed), playing lifeguard, while my four-year-old daughter bathes. Soon I'll have to wash her hair for her and put in the detangler before I try to comb out her hair without having her scream in pain. At this stage of my life, I think I'd rather have a digital rectal exam. At least it would be over in a matter of seconds and my back wouldn't have a chance to seize up on me.

Anyway, before I go I was wondering. With all the money I pay out in taxes and, given that those funds pay for things like FEMA (lest we forget, that stands for FEDERAL Emergency Management Agency), why the hell am I worried I need at least a month's supply of water and food to make sure my family can survive a really destructive earthquake?

Do you have any idea how much water a family of four needs to make it a mere 28 days? At the bare minimum of three liters per day, that's a total of 336 liters. In those big, plastic bottles grocery stores sell, that's 36 of them. At no less than $2/bottle (which is an infrequent bargain), that's . . . well, you figure it out. I haven't included food.

Well, I can afford it. What about my neighbors? People who live within 5 miles of me? Can everyone afford it? I doubt it. What will the folks who can't afford it, or who really didn't see or understand the possibilities, be doing to survive if OUR government, to which we pay tribute in the form of taxes, can't be counted on to provide rapid assistance? And you can't be serious if you think I'm being cynical; not after Katrina. Not with this vindictive, bumbling bunch now controlling the country's purse strings.

I just wanted to get that off my chest. I'll have more to say about what I think I have the right to "expect" (i.e. feel "entitled" to) from my government later, but I'm going to leave it alone for now. I hope to post at least once from my hotel in Houston.