Sunday, September 30, 2007

Life, Death, Misery, and Blog Maintenance

September 30, 2007

I missed you, whoever you are. I have had a Godawful time blogging, what with no Internet and all. But I have been writing, on the chance I'd finally get to post. So here are some of the things that have been on my mind the last few months. Gods willing, I'll be a better blogger in the future. good night and good luck...stimp

May 22, 2007

I miss the rest of the world.

That sounds (or looks) really bizarre, but it’s true. I miss the rest of the world. Desperately. It is strange when you spend most of your life denying technology, to admit that there is a part of it that has become almost necessary. But I have come to that conclusion about the Internet. I don’t miss my phone. Most of the time, my phone calls involved someone wanting money from me in one fashion or another. I don’t get any more calls about who has done what to whom recently. Other than the continuing drama that is my own real life, it’s actually pretty nice not to have the phone ring. But the Web was where I got mail I wanted, talked to friends, socialized, and kept track of all the events in the wide world from a variety of sources. I got to chat with newfound friends about the war, or the world, or the tie Keith Olbermann happened to be wearing on the show this evening. I am now as cut off from that world as if it never existed. I miss watching the news all day. I feel tremendously ignorant of what is happening around me. One half hour of network news, no matter who does it, doesn’t get the job done.

I miss my blog. I know that very, very few people actually read the thing. But I am proud of stimp and the world. I think I was learning to write, really write, by writing there. I was learning how to say what I meant with economy, thought, and a style of my own. I am proud of that. I must admit that I keep most of these sentiments to myself. With things here the way they are, I would not want to make things worse by complaining about something that there is no cure for. Still, the quiet and isolation is sometimes overwhelming. Believe it or not, even I can read only so many books. I can only watch so many movies. I can play only so much Dungeons and Dragons, although that is one of the few times I interact with people who don’t actually live with me.

I think the isolation was brought home most vividly today. One of my oldest friends stopped by to see us today. We rattled on for a little while about the horror of doctors, nurses, lawyers, and workman’s comp. And when I asked my friend how things were going with him, he told me that his mother has passed away. A week ago. I knew nothing about it. If I had a phone, one of my friends would have called me. There are probably several emails on the subject I haven’t seen, having no access to email. And so someone I care about, whom I have been a friend with for 20 years, could not receive support and condolence from our family, because we knew nothing about it.

I really miss the rest of the world. Maybe someday I will post this on the blog, to document this time as well as the other blithering idiocy I usually carry on about. Until then…good night and good luck…stimp



September 13, 2007

Far Too Long

There are ways to tell if you have been away from other people for far too long. I must admit that my life is fairly solitary at the moment, what with all that is going on lately. I don’t go out much, have limited phone conversations, limited internet access, and few people stop here. Don’t seem to be able to get a job, so all in all, I don’t get around. That sounds way whinier than I mean it to be. For the most part I don’t mind. No phone means no irritating calls from people I don’t know trying to sell me things. I admit, not having 24-hour news makes me feel more cut off than lack of phone does. But I noticed some things that are signs that I haven’t been out in way too long. I was sitting here a bit ago, playing a “Wheel Of Fortune” computer game. That is a bad sign in and of itself. Pat and Vanna get on my nerves, and this game only has Vanna. But when I start thinking to myself that I really hate Player Three, that “she” is a total bitch, and Player Three is a computer, this may be a bad sign. Besides family, for whom I am grateful, my entire social interaction lately has been comprised of “Dungeons & Dragons” games every Saturday, and funerals. The only new people I have met were at the funerals, and my son’s school open house. I met his new teachers. Banner night. When I am watching football games on Sunday night I don’t care about because I dig the witty repartee between Bob Costas and Keith Olbermann, I need to get out more. The fact that I am complaining in a blog article that will get saved to a file when I am done, and I may or may not remember to put on a disc to take to the library and post on the site is pathetic. This may never see the light of day, but I will be damned if I don’t write it anyway. The fact that I am writing it at 2:53 am instead of sleeping is not a good sign. But perhaps it is better to be writing than worrying about not being asleep. Some interaction is better than none at all. The fact that I still have clarity of mind enough to write is good. I am worried lately about my ability to focus. I am jumpy and easily distracted. I sleep too much during the day, or not at all. Things are so fucked up right now that even my old weird normal would be an improvement. I miss my life. I try not to think about it too much, but I really do. I miss my therapist. I miss cable. I miss Keith Olbermann, and “Mythbusters”, and “Ninja Warrior”. I am sick of CSI this, and Law and Order that. I want to watch Sportscenter. I miss playing this one trivia contest on the local radio station’s website. I miss my friends at the O.o, and streaming internet radio. Maybe it’s not being alone too long, but losing almost everything all at once, and having this massive gap where my life used to be. By now, I should be accustomed to the way things are. They have been like this for a while. Hanging on a thread, and having it set on fire. Maybe the little things are what kept me from thinking about how scary it has gotten.

Even so…Player Three is still a bitch. Good night and good luck…stimp





Happy Birthday to me…


Today is my 41st birthday. I am not planning anything extraordinary to celebrate. A return to my blog, as I have several entries saved to post. A trip to the library, to check my email, and get fresh books and movies. My folks are bringing me one of my favorite foods, cabbage rolls with sauerkraut, and a pineapple upside down cake. My sweet husband asked his mom to bake me a cake. My birthday, in the past, had held unpleasant surprises. I am hoping for none of those, but I am not counting on it. I was thinking of some other things, unlikely as some of them are, that I wish I would have for my birthday.

I wish I had cable and the internet again. I hate feeling disconnected from the rest of the world. I wish my newly repaired Xbox 360 would get here today. My kid would be in seventh heaven if it did. I wish those assholes would quit fighting it and give my husband the medical attention and temporary disability he needs. He is in pain, and I hate it. I get angrier everyday about the flaming hoops he has to go through to get fair Worker’s Comp benefits. We’ve been fighting at least nine months. I wish I had a job. I have been looking for one, but a fat manic-depressive in her forties is not good job material, I guess. Sure would help though. I wish I could go and sing with all of my friends. I used to throw the best birthday parties for myself. After all, if you throw your own party, you know exactly what you are going to get. I miss my friends. I wish the war were over. My kid asked me about the whole “Mission Accomplished” thing last night. I explained to him about the political concept of “bullshit”. He is too young to have to worry about all of that, but this horrifying stuff has touched his life as surely as the ones of all the adults he knows. His cousin has already done one tour of duty in Iraq. I wish I had more money, more groceries, health insurance, and a big fat Borders gift card. (Not everything on this list is deadly serious!) I wish I had a day at a spa, with a massage, hair styling, a manicure, the works. A day of beauty, or at least as close as I can get considering what I have to start with. I wish I had an autographed picture of Keith Olbermann. I wish I could sing with Meat Loaf, somewhere other than in my car. (I said some of this stuff is silly!) I wish I could go to Florida and see my friend Lisa. I miss her.

Mostly I wish for peace. Peace on Earth, peace of mind, peace of spirit. Those are a lot harder to come by, and not likely to come with a bow on my birthday. Good night, and good luck…stimp



Songs

There are songs for everything. Unfortunately. There is also no way to control how songs are sometimes used. I hate hearing Electric Light Orchestra or Beatles songs used in commercials. Didn’t there used to be a whole profession of people who wrote catchy songs for ads? Anyway, I was making a playlist of songs I wanted to hear this morning, and it occurred to me to share some of them with others. You, the six of you reading this, being the others. So here I go.

An unexpected song: “I’m Coming Home” from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Of all the wonderful songs to come from the spectacular silliness of that movie. I love that movie, and that song.

A sexy song: “Cry To Me” by Solomon Burke. Anyone who has ever seen Dirty Dancing knows this song. Think of Baby and Johnny in his cottage. Enough said.

A song for a good day: “Do Ya” by Electric Light Orchestra. The opening guitar chords are enough to put a smile on my face.

Anything by “Weird” Al Yankovic. I adore “Weird” Al. My favorite is “One More Minute” from the album “Dare To Be Stupid”. One of my sisters is also partial to “Amish Paradise”. And head over to You Tube and watch the “White and Nerdy” video, complete with Donny Osmond. I dare you not to laugh.

Barry Manilow and Neil Diamond: Okay, stop laughing. I love these guys. Good, clean emotional songs to sing to. “Could It Be Magic” is one of my favorite songs ever. I even have a disco version.

Bette Midler singing “Stay With Me” on the Divine Madness soundtrack. I sing along, badly, usually crying my eyes out at the same time.

Gods, there are too many. Bobby Darin and “If I Were A Carpenter”. Bruce Springsteen’s “Thunder Road”. “Beginnings”, a wonderful Chicago song I sang to my husband on our wedding day. The Dells singing “Stay In My Corner”. Dolly Parton’s simple, original version of “I Will Always Love You”. I have a live version of The Doors singing “Gloria” that is so sexy and raunchy, I listen to it alone. “Bernadette” by The Four Tops. So longing and desperate. Janis Joplin. Johnny Cash covering “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails. The song is different, but the exquisite pain is the same. “This Woman’s Work” by Kate Bush. The song they keep playing a bit of the current “CSI” promos. Meat Loaf. Otis Redding. Prince. Randy Newman singing “Political Science” or “Burn On”. Go look for “Songs For Dustmites” by Steve Burns. Yes, the “Blue’s Clues” Steve Burns. The whole album is amazing. The long live versions of “Everytime You Go Away” by Hall and Oates, or “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel.

Wow. There is way more of this than I originally thought. I was looking at my personal playlist on my computer while I made the list, and there must be 200 more songs I could list. But like 500 lawyers at the bottom of Lake Erie, it’s a good start. Good listening! Good night and good luck…stimp





George

An old friend of mine is gone, at least for now. I knew a wonderful man named George. I met him twenty years ago, when I went to work at McDonald’s. I hated working at McD’s. Both times. But somehow, hanging around with George made it better. I left McDonald’s, got married, moved away, moved home, got divorced. But George was still here. Not at the Golden Arches anymore, but still home, going to college, just like when I left. We took up more or less where we left off. I was older, sadder, but no wiser, I think. But George was still George, funny, sweet, same as he ever was. I got to know him a bit better this time around. I saw he was troubled, and sad too much. He still joked around, but now I could see some of what was beneath, and sometimes we talked about it. He wouldn’t talk much, though. If he hadn’t talked me into it, I probably would not have spent time with the man who is my sweet husband, and has been for the last eleven years. Because I wouldn’t have joined the “Star Trek” fan club they both belonged to. When we learned we were having a baby, George would come and see me at work, with a huge list of silly suggestions for baby names. I think it is by the grace of the gods that my son isn’t John Paul George Ringo, instead of Alexander. He would make me laugh forever with suggested names. He used to tell me that George was a great name, and if it was a girl, we could name her Georgia. He showed me Monty Python, for which I am eternally grateful. He was generous to a fault sometimes. If I said I might want to get a CD of someone’s music, he might show up next visit with all the CDs he had of them. When I sang charity karaoke, he would show up, donate $20, and request I sing the silliest things. Like “Safety Dance” or songs from “The Rocky Horror Picture Show”, which we had gone to see forever ago. I’d sing anything he asked, as long as I knew it. He never failed to make me laugh, cry, or do both at the same time.

My friend died way too young last week, at 39. He was, as usual, alone. It was a freak accident, and no one knew. The sad thing was the “alone” part. I try not to think about it much. And when I found out, my heart was broken. Will be for a long time, I think. All around my home, I see things that remind me. My “Monty Python” movies. The DVD of “Rocky Horror”, with the figurines he gave us for Christmas one year. My Princess Leia slave girl doll. We were alumni of the same university. And every time I think of him, in a way I wish he hadn’t kept me at arm’s length quite so much. I wish he had let us give back as much as he gave us.

There is a picture of him on my desk now. He and my brother in law, who were also friends from that long ago fan club, are wearing kilts. They were in a contest. I like to remember him that way. Being with a friend, doing something maybe a little silly. It helps to ease the sadness of knowing I can’t be silly with him anymore. I can never explain all the things he was, all the things he meant to me. But I miss him, every day right now, very much. Wherever he is, I hope he is having a Guinness and a laugh. Hopefully, someday I’ll join him, with all those I loved, and have a laugh over all the silly shit that happened since last we met. And maybe sing the “Spam” song. See you on the other side, George. Good night and good luck…stimp

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

shut up, speak up

I was originally going to come here and rail about the Imus train wreck/Duke Lacrosse case. There were parallels of speech and accountability, which I am now going to save for another day.

Kurt Vonnegut is dead.

I just heard about it listening to Lionel, and zipped over to the New York Times to get the full story. He was 84 years old.

He was one of my heroes. When I was in college the first time, at eighteen, and in the time thereafter, I made explorations which have affected my whole life. I read Orwell, Bradbury, Huxley. I read assembled columns of the Village Voice. I read Tom Wolfe, and the voices of the generation before mine. And I read Vonnegut.

At first I didn't get it. I understood it on the surface, but deep down, it took a while to assimilate. I still have copies of "Slaughterhouse-Five" and "Cat's Cradle", among others. His works were strange, and funny, and weird. I loved them.

I suggest that if you haven't read his work, you should. And if you have, you should again. Geniuses, true ones, are hard to come by. Best to embrace and remember the ones we have. There was a quote in the Times article I liked, and wanted to finish with.

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”

Sound advice. Good night and good luck...stimp

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Inigo Montoya

In the movie "The Princess Bride", Inigo Montoya seeks to kill Count Rugen for having murdered his father. There is a piece from the movie that struck me today. In the final battle between Inigo and the Count, when the Count is at the end of Inigo's sword and out of options, he tries to bargain. At one point, Inigo says "Give me everything I ask". The Count replies "Everything I have". At which point, Inigo runs him through and says "I want my father back, you son of a bitch".

You might wonder what brought this on. I wanted to blog about yet another anniversary of this misbegotten war. But as I was watching the news this evening, something occurred to me. The corruption, lies, and misery go far beyond Iraq. And while Iraq is uppermost in my mind, I wish to paraphrase the valiant Inigo.

I want my country back, you son of a bitch.

I want our armed forces out of Iraq. I don't want one more family to suffer one more loss. I don't want one more family to make do, worry, or miss someone, or prepare to face the possibility.

I want the people of Iraq to get their country back. Tonight I saw pictures of Iraqis suffering and dying because their own health care system has been nearly destroyed by this war.

I want my voice back. I am tired of assholes like Trent Lott and his ilk questioning my patriotism, love of my country, or support of the troops because I think this whole thing was a mistake and I want it finished.

I don't want to have to keep explaining all of this to my son, whose questions become more painful and complex as he gets older. I don't want to send anymore family members away, and then live the twin grinds of worrying from them, and justifying my own pacifism. I want the "leaders" of our government to listen to the people who elected them, and who pay them. For the most part, we have had enough. No one can totally agree on how it should end, only that it should.

I don't want another anniversary of death, destruction, and pain.

I know it was just a fairy tale movie. But with Inigo's words ringing through my head, I found some words of my own.

I want my peace back, you son of a bitch.
I want my hope back, you son of a bitch.
I want my America back, you son of a bitch.

Hopefully, I will find some measure of justice someday, as Inigo did. I only hope I don't have to wait as long. good night and good luck...stimp

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

A search for truth

I was at the grocery store this morning. This in and of itself is not unusual. But while there, I was struck by an amazing thought. About Britney Spears. I usually only think about her as often as I am forced to, and the whole head shaving thing has forced her upon my notice again.

But for a moment, just a moment, something occurred to me. Maybe she isn't just doped up, drunk, or crazy. Maybe shaving her head was a bold existential statement. Maybe she had found, finally, the place in herself where she faced all that happened in her life. She could have been using the moment to make a statement, create a separation from the pop-tart, Mouseketeer part of her life. She could have been saying that she was a child no more, but a mother, and an artist, fully in charge of her life, and ready to move on, clean up the mess, and forge a new path for herself. Maybe it was her Victoria Jackson "I Am Not A Bimbo" moment. (Obscure SNL reference...look it up)

Maybe from this moment on, she will work to be a fulfilled, fully fledged member of the adult community, and her hair was like waving a signal flag from the highest hill...

WHO THE HELL AM I KIDDING! I am not sure why she shaved her head. I know that I don't care. What does bother me is that between Anna Nicole and Britney, real news from the war or anywhere else is hard to come by. And you can only look at so many train wrecks. Can we leave it alone now? good night and good luck...stimp

Monday, February 19, 2007

An Inconvenient Question

Tonight, my son asked me how to avoid the draft.

Leaving aside the facts that there is no draft, and the fact he is NINE, he wanted to know how to avoid going to war.

He had asked me about going to war before. In this day and age, there is almost no avoiding it. The war is everywhere. Especially for a bright, aware child who sees the news and watches Countdown with his mom. (He's got good taste!)

But he never asked how to avoid it in detail before. I asked him why, considering the above mentioned facts, he was concerned about it. He said he didn't want to go and be blown up by a car bomb.

I was floored. I was unsure how to answer. I wondered if it was a good idea for him to see the news, if he was going to worry about things like that. But there is no real way to protect him from what is real, and the truth is preferable to false comfort. So I told about how it works, and the options to avoid it. My nine year old son chose jail rather than the draft. Clearheaded. Just about broke my heart. Because I had a hard time telling him convincingly about honor and service to your country when needed. There are members of both sides of his family who answered the call when their country needed them. But my son knows that the government lies sometimes, and that they don't always have his best interests at heart. He is a cynic at nine, not a patriot. In one way, I am glad that his eyes are wide open, that no one will take advantage of his youth and inexperience to send him off to war. But I am more than a little sad that he never had "America, the Beautiful". The trust that he was safe, and that everything was going to be all right. He was 4 on 9/11, and it has colored even his world. He never even got a chance to be innocent of the dangers. Or the opportunity to be proud to be an American. Just lies, and danger, and war that even he knows was wrong. I hope I can teach him to love this place, and work to make it the best it can be. But I wonder if he, and kids like him, are going to give up hope. Or if they ever got to have any. good night and good luck...stimp

Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Interesting...

Somewhere, Sartre is laughing.

I just read a story on Yahoo News about a young Australian man who sold his life on EBay.

A 24-year-old Australian surfer who sold his life, including baggage from a painful break-up, on eBay says he is still not quite sure why he did it.
Nicael Holt sold his name, phone number and all his possessions, including clothes, CDs, a surfboard, a laptop, a wonky pushbike, childhood photos and a "nice lamp" given to him by an ex-girlfriend, on the internet auction site.
The successful applicant bid 7,500 dollars (5,790 US) last week to become Holt, right down to spending Christmas with his parents and inheriting "some tension with a former ex from a painful break-up."
The identity of the eBay auction winner is known only as ridderstrade.
Holt, a philosophy student from the southern coastal city of Wollongong who has set up a website to explain his actions and ask for donations to charity, said he was unable to explain why he sold his life.
"Im still racking my brain to come up with the answer or any answer as to why I did this?" he wrote.
Motivating factors were boredom and intrigue as to what constitutes a life and what made him who he was.
He added he was "hoping to make a point that the amount and type of things that are for sale in this world is insane and wasteful."
In his sales pitch, Holt said the winner would be entitled to a four-week training course in how to be him -- including lessons on how to surf, climb, skateboard, fire twirl and do handstands -- as well as two months of on-call support afterward.
He also promised to introduce the winner to all his friends and potential lovers, including eight people he had been flirting with.
"Lifestyle is very social. It includes a lot of going out," he noted on his eBay advert.
"Friends will treat you exactly as they have treated me. This includes friends who take me surfing, running, climbing and cook for me. All of these features will be transferred over to the winning applicant."
His legal identity, passport, qualifications and future inheritance were not for sale.

What an amazingly existential thing to do. Or an amazingly adolescent one. To be so miserable in your own life that you are willing to sell it in order to start over. What a statement about the times we live in! He actually managed to sell it! I read a bit about him, what he had written on his website, and I can't imagine why he would want to sell. No divorce, no scandal, no money troubles. Just unlucky in love. And someone else, somewhere, wants a new life enough to pay for it. I am flabbergasted by the whole transaction. It is possible, after all, to completely change your life without commerce entering into it. People do it every day. Yet there are two people in the world sufficiently...I don't know what...to buy and sell a life. Bizarre. Philosophically brilliant, because it leads to all manner of questions. What is a "life"? Is it able to be bought and sold? Not a person, mind you. They have been bought and sold for millennia. But a place in space and time that you have created, complete with other people, places, and identity. I still can't decide whether this is the bold action of a philosopher, or the juvenile behavior of someone who wants to change everything because he didn't get his own way. This one is a thinker. good night and good luck...stimp

Saturday, January 27, 2007

I can't help it...

OK, this is really pathetic and fan girl of me, but I have to...


Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday dear Keith...

Happy Birthday to you!



(Many thanks to Olbermann.org for the wonderful photo!)

good night and good luck...stimp

Monday, January 22, 2007

No. Really. You're kidding me.

Yesterday, as I was perusing my daily email from Firedoglake, I came across this little gem, and thought I'd share:


National Sanctity of Human Life Day, 2007 A Proclamation by the President of the United States of America

National Sanctity of Human Life Day serves as a reminder that we must value human life in all forms, not just those considered healthy, wanted, or convenient. Together, we can work toward a day when the dignity and humanity of every person is respected.
NOW, THEREFORE, I, GEORGE W. BUSH, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim Sunday, January 21, 2007, as National Sanctity of Human Life Day. I call upon all Americans to recognize this day with appropriate ceremonies and to underscore our commitment to respecting and protecting the life and dignity of every human being.

Now, I am well aware that this statement was a pity fuck for the Righteous Right, who W has used brutally, and then never called until the next time he was needy. And it is the anniversary of the decision in Roe v. Wade. But this is beyond the pale, even for the Idiot in Chief.

Who in the Hell does he think he's kidding? "We must value human life in all forms, not just those healthy,wanted,or convenient". Tell that to the people in Iraq, those who can't afford proper health care, or the people in the 9th Ward in New Orleans. Never have so many people failed to be "healthy,wanted,or convenient". Tell that to all the people waiting for the potential miracle that stem cell research and treatments could bring. Talk about unhealthy AND inconvenient.

I am sick and tired of abortion, and reproductive rights, carrying all the water for this idiot's personal agenda. I would like to make one thing clear: NO ONE WANTS TO HAVE AN ABORTION! For a great many reasons. People, for the most part, don't prance about saying "Well, whatever, I can always have an abortion". I had to consider the prospect myself at one point. Fortunately, I never had to go through with my decision. But it wasn't happy. I was sick, and sad, and wondering, and second guessing.

Which seems to be a luxury this President doesn't worry about. It must be nice to be so certain of your rectitude, that you can slap a couple of layers of polyurethane varnish on your opinion and call it right. But to actually say he wants to "underscore our commitment to respecting and protecting the life and dignity of every human being". Again, he must really be delusional. He's doing a piss poor job of protecting human life in Iraq, either American or Iraqi, and he's going to respect 20000 Americans so much, he's going to send them over into that cluster fuck too. The only kind of human life this man cares about is the one that isn't here yet. Zygotes don't make mistakes, don't ask for money, aren't liberal, and can't see right through him. Once a child gets here, they are much more difficult, not quite so easy to deal with as they were in the abstract. They start needing food,and shelter, and education, and all the stuff that makes those of us already born such a pain in the ass.

Well, celebrate your "National Sanctity of Human Life Day", Mr. Bush. Throw that big bone to the anti-choice fundamentalists, and forget all about the humans who are already here, needing someone to recognize the sanctity of their human life. The poor, the sick, the battle scarred and war torn. Those who have given everything, and those who have had nothing to give. We'll keep trying to take care of the rest, W. That's what liberals do, when we're not off having abortions and stuff. good night and good luck...stimp

Thursday, January 11, 2007

I take it back

I thought I was nuts. Blind screaming insane. I'm not even close. I sat through W's speech last night and thought, "He's got me beat by a country mile". I thought he was just being stubborn. Now I think he is delusional. PTSD got him on September 11th, and he's been gonzo ever since. Does he really believe that if we send a drop in the bucket's worth of troops to Iraq, it will make one iota of difference? He spoke of Iraqi police going around neighborhoods introducing them selves and making everything all right. Who is he kidding? There has been bad blood between Shia and Sunni since before there was a United States. We tend to forget that the Middle East is called the "Cradle of Civilization" for a reason. They had writing and math while my ancestors were still grunting around fires. Well, maybe not grunting, but you get the idea. After all of the history of the Middle East, Israel, the Crusades, and everything else, what does he expect? That these guys are going to gather around a big campfire hugging and singing "We Are The World", then thank us for showing them the error of their ways? How rude. W, after all this strife, still understands nothing of the culture and people there.

And to make things even more special, he's sent a carrier group to perch near Iran, and is making noises about Iran and Syria. I'm not swearing to it, but I don't figure those guys are scared of the big, bad, United States. The "insurgents", the "terrorists" he's managed to get stirred up in Iraq, where there were precious few before, have our guys by the balls, and are squeezing.

So now we're sending 22,000 new targets. Not enough to really accomplish anything, and too many to risk. I agree with Michael Moore, in a letter posted on his site last night, and which I will post with great thanks here. We're in a position now where we cant win, we can't leave, and we can't do anything constructive. Thanks, George. good night and good luck...stimp

1/10/07
Dear Mr. President,
Thanks for your address to the nation. It's good to know you still want to talk to us after how we behaved in November.
Listen, can I be frank? Sending in 20,000 more troops just ain't gonna do the job. That will only bring the troop level back up to what it was last year. And we were losing the war last year! We've already had over a million troops serve some time in Iraq since 2003. Another few thousand is simply not enough to find those weapons of mass destruction! Er, I mean... bringing those responsible for 9/11 to justice! Um, scratch that. Try this -- BRING DEMOCRACY TO THE MIDDLE EAST! YES!!!
You've got to show some courage, dude! You've got to win this one! C'mon, you got Saddam! You hung 'im high! I loved watching the video of that -- just like the old wild west! The bad guy wore black! The hangmen were as crazy as the hangee! Lynch mobs rule!!!
Look, I have to admit I feel very sorry for the predicament you're in. As Ricky Bobby said, "If you're not first, you're last." And you being humiliated in front of the whole world does NONE of us Americans any good.
Sir, listen to me. You have to send in MILLIONS of troops to Iraq, not thousands! The only way to lick this thing now is to flood Iraq with millions of us! I know that you're out of combat-ready soldiers -- so you have to look elsewhere! The only way you are going to beat a nation of 27 million -- Iraq -- is to send in at least 28 million! Here's how it would work:
The first 27 million Americans go in and kill one Iraqi each. That will quickly take care of any insurgency. The other one million of us will stay and rebuild the country. Simple.
Now, I know you're saying, where will I find 28 million Americans to go to Iraq? Here are some suggestions:
1. More than 62,000,000 Americans voted for you in the last election (the one that took place a year and half into a war we already knew we were losing). I am confident that at least a third of them would want to put their body where there vote was and sign up to volunteer. I know many of these people and, while we may disagree politically, I know that they don't believe someone else should have to go and fight their fight for them -- while they hide here in America.
2. Start a "Kill an Iraqi" Meet-Up group in cities across the country. I know this idea is so early-21st century, but I once went to a Lou Dobbs Meet-Up and, I swear, some of the best ideas happen after the third mojito. I'm sure you'll get another five million or so enlistees from this effort.
3. Send over all members of the mainstream media. After all, they were your collaborators in bringing us this war -- and many of them are already trained from having been "embedded!" If that doesn't bring the total to 28 million, then draft all viewers of the FOX News channel.
Mr. Bush, do not give up! Now is not the time to pull your punch! Don't be a weenie by sending in a few over-tired troops. Get your people behind you and YOU lead them in like a true commander in chief! Leave no conservative behind! Full speed ahead!
We promise to write. Go get 'em W!
Yours,
Michael Moore

Monday, January 01, 2007

Mr. 3000

OK, so I know everyone will be calling him that. I've seen it on Firedoglake already.

I am not going to blog a long time today. It is a holiday, and I have things to do. But when I got online to check my mail after a wonderful New Year's Eve party with my family, I discovered we had cracked 3000.

Three thousand men and women have come, or soon will come, back from Iraq in a box. If we're being told the truth, and if they are lucky. Thousands of mom and dads, brothers and sisters, wives, husbands, children, and friends have lost something precious. I know that you know all this. I know it's not the last milestone number we will pass. I know that the idiot in the White House and his thugs are going to send more to be killed.

And it pisses me off.

I've heard the arguments for, the arguments against. I've heard about volunteers to our military. I've heard every justification and lame ass excuse in the world for this horrifying abortion in Iraq. And none of them are good enough. Not to excuse the loss of one life. Not an Iraqi, not an American, not an Ally, not even Saddam Hussein, and I was no fan of his either. This continuous slow bleed of lives, and gushing eruption of tax money, must end. Now. I could rant on for days about the variety of ways in which I hate Mr. 3000, and the variety of torments I expect he'll enjoy when he passes from this life into the next. But it's New Year's, and there's football and family. Happy New Year, and peace, most especially, to all this year. good night and good luck...stimp