Schadenfreude
According to ABC News Radio talk show host Rush Limbaugh may have violated state money-laundering laws in the way he handled the money he used to buy the prescription drugs to which he was addicted . . . A conviction on such charges in Florida would be a first-degree felony, punishable by up to 30 years in prison.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Saturday, November 15, 2003
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
Veteran's Day
Here is a list of some Veteran's Day events in and around your nation's capital. Honor those who have served today. At the very least, do whatever you can to bring home folks who are serving in Iraq.
Here is a list of some Veteran's Day events in and around your nation's capital. Honor those who have served today. At the very least, do whatever you can to bring home folks who are serving in Iraq.
Sunday, November 09, 2003
Winning Hearts and Minds
Quagmire or no quagmire, this is the part that reminds me of Vietnam. We can't tell the good guys from the bad guys. So we panic and shoot at everybody including women and children.
Don't we ever learn?
(Via Blah3)
Quagmire or no quagmire, this is the part that reminds me of Vietnam. We can't tell the good guys from the bad guys. So we panic and shoot at everybody including women and children.
Sarab rolls up her sleeve and looks at the thick scar across her upper arm. The eight-year-old says she was playing in the bathroom of her house when the shots were fired but cannot remember anything else.
'It is their routine,' said her grandfather, Turk Jassim. 'After the Americans are attacked, they shoot everywhere. This is inhuman - a stupid act by a country always talking about human rights.'
Last September, US forces shot dead Sarab's two-year old sister, Dunya, and wounded two other girls in her family, 13-year-old Menal and 16-year old Bassad. The family belongs to the Albueisi tribe who farm the rich land along the Euphrates river south of Falluja. The Albueisi fought against the British and even Saddam Hussein found them difficult to control. Since April, at least 10 members of the tribe have been killed by US forces, including five policemen.
Don't we ever learn?
(Via Blah3)
Saturday, November 08, 2003
Overboard
Yep, I've kinda gone overboard for the past few days. So here is some News You Can Use.
Fish fart Ain't research wonderful?
Yep, I've kinda gone overboard for the past few days. So here is some News You Can Use.
Fish fart Ain't research wonderful?
Friday, November 07, 2003
Economic Recovery: Homelessness, Part II (A Rant)
And how do you get a job when you don't have an address to put down on the form or where somebody can send you mail, and you don't have a telephone number where somebody can contact you? Go to city services you say? But city services have been cut to the bone and the well-meaning folks who work there are desperately underpaid and horribly overworked and burning out with a white-hot flame. You don't want to pay the taxes that it would cost to provide them with services, anyway, do you? You're in the middle class, you folks feel so terribly put upon if anybody expects you to help anybody else.
But wait. You don't think anybody is hungry or homeless, right? You don't know about any of these things, do you? You don't go into the city because it is dirty and you are frightened and you certainly don't want your kids to know that every day isn't about McDonald's commercials and Kodak moments. Yeah, you. You who home school your kids and teach them intolerance and Truth because they might bump up against somebody different if they mingled with kids with accents and different skin colors whose parents don't have the luxury of sitting at home with their kids all day because they are trying to earn enough to feed those same kids.
And even if, God forbid, you are forced by circumstances beyond your control to end up in the city, you put on your blinders rush through and go back to your sterile house as quickly as you can, You don't see the women, or if you do it is only to shy away from the one standing on the corner near the convent with her worn crutch leaning against the wrought iron fence, shaking a paper cup with a few coins in it, the one who might touch your sterile middle-class skin with germs and dark.
Oh, I forgot. You are a good God-fearing American, the salt of the earth, the core of our society. You don't produce shit. You take and suck the earth dry and think you are entitled because your parents or grandparents were born in the right place and could afford to send you to college or even because you were born in the right place at the right time. But it is ok because you believe. You believe that the people in charge were ordained by God and you believe in manifest destiny and keeping the immigrants under control.
No, you aren't a bad person. You might even take your old clothes to the shelter or more likely have them picked up by some do-gooder truck that phones you to make an appointment and you leave those worn clothes neatly packed in bags by the curb so you don't have to come into contact with the people who drive the trucks. Well thank you. The women are grateful. Just like they are grateful that you don't see them and stare at them and judge them every morning when they step outside in twenty-four degree weather holding their heads up struggling to get through another day.
And how do you get a job when you don't have an address to put down on the form or where somebody can send you mail, and you don't have a telephone number where somebody can contact you? Go to city services you say? But city services have been cut to the bone and the well-meaning folks who work there are desperately underpaid and horribly overworked and burning out with a white-hot flame. You don't want to pay the taxes that it would cost to provide them with services, anyway, do you? You're in the middle class, you folks feel so terribly put upon if anybody expects you to help anybody else.
But wait. You don't think anybody is hungry or homeless, right? You don't know about any of these things, do you? You don't go into the city because it is dirty and you are frightened and you certainly don't want your kids to know that every day isn't about McDonald's commercials and Kodak moments. Yeah, you. You who home school your kids and teach them intolerance and Truth because they might bump up against somebody different if they mingled with kids with accents and different skin colors whose parents don't have the luxury of sitting at home with their kids all day because they are trying to earn enough to feed those same kids.
And even if, God forbid, you are forced by circumstances beyond your control to end up in the city, you put on your blinders rush through and go back to your sterile house as quickly as you can, You don't see the women, or if you do it is only to shy away from the one standing on the corner near the convent with her worn crutch leaning against the wrought iron fence, shaking a paper cup with a few coins in it, the one who might touch your sterile middle-class skin with germs and dark.
Oh, I forgot. You are a good God-fearing American, the salt of the earth, the core of our society. You don't produce shit. You take and suck the earth dry and think you are entitled because your parents or grandparents were born in the right place and could afford to send you to college or even because you were born in the right place at the right time. But it is ok because you believe. You believe that the people in charge were ordained by God and you believe in manifest destiny and keeping the immigrants under control.
No, you aren't a bad person. You might even take your old clothes to the shelter or more likely have them picked up by some do-gooder truck that phones you to make an appointment and you leave those worn clothes neatly packed in bags by the curb so you don't have to come into contact with the people who drive the trucks. Well thank you. The women are grateful. Just like they are grateful that you don't see them and stare at them and judge them every morning when they step outside in twenty-four degree weather holding their heads up struggling to get through another day.
Wednesday, November 05, 2003
Economic Recovery: Homelessness, Part I (A Rant)
Every damn morning on my way to work I go past one of the homeless shelters for women just as they are throwing the patrons out onto the street for the day. Hit the streets, seven A.M. Empty out from 7 to 6, can't let anybody sleep in to feed a baby or take the time to lend her hairbrush to somebody else. The shelter is a tin shack that looks for all the world like a railroad car sitting on the edge of a city parking lot. It has wooden stairs, unpainted or stained, that take folks from the sidewalk to the entrance and back again. No one would consider this place if they had any other alternative, and I watch the homeless women being tossed out. It is truly horrid to watch any day of the year, but in winter it is the worst.
These women look like anybody's mother on hard times, yours and mine. They wear clothes that we have discarded, given away if we had the decency not to throw them away. They are wearing what you wore last year. There is a lovely young woman who has a pony tail and tennis shoes and jeans. If she weren't carrying everything she owns in worn plastic bags from the nearby supermarket and paper department store bags with two string handles, and if she weren't becoming hunched over from always looking down, you would mistake her for a college student.
The older ones look a little stranger, mostly because they try harder to look like what they think normal is. There is one who likes bright colors, usually wears a red running suit with white stripes. The pants and jacket are slightly different shades of red. She seems to imagine that women of her age and should have a weekly appointment at the hair dresser, so she tries to curl and tease her thin hair. It turns out a little off and garish; I expect she has trouble finding a mirror to use or any way to keep her hair trimmed. But she, like most of the others, tries so hard to look like everybody else.
I know what you are thinking. I've heard it before. Why don't they get jobs? Tell me how you find a job when everything you own is in a shopping bag, and if you leave the bag anywhere unwatched somebody will take it and you won't even be able to change your underwear? And how do you wash your clothes when every cent, yes every damn last cent, goes to buy food or soap or toothpaste if there you have the luxury of a little bit of money left over?
Oh yes, I know about the free meals. I go past two places that serve them on my way home. One is at a nearby church that was once a synagogue and has a stained glass Star of David high atop the north wall and the line to get in for dinner is always at least two blocks long. The other is the emptiest corner at an intersection about half a mile away, a truck stop where people seem to line up for no reason until a pickup truck stops and two people get out and give out Styrofoam cups of something warm and steaming and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches folded in waxed paper. And then there is the church where they serve a hot lunch twice a week. Two block line there too, that starts to form at about nine in the morning.
(To Be Continued)
Every damn morning on my way to work I go past one of the homeless shelters for women just as they are throwing the patrons out onto the street for the day. Hit the streets, seven A.M. Empty out from 7 to 6, can't let anybody sleep in to feed a baby or take the time to lend her hairbrush to somebody else. The shelter is a tin shack that looks for all the world like a railroad car sitting on the edge of a city parking lot. It has wooden stairs, unpainted or stained, that take folks from the sidewalk to the entrance and back again. No one would consider this place if they had any other alternative, and I watch the homeless women being tossed out. It is truly horrid to watch any day of the year, but in winter it is the worst.
These women look like anybody's mother on hard times, yours and mine. They wear clothes that we have discarded, given away if we had the decency not to throw them away. They are wearing what you wore last year. There is a lovely young woman who has a pony tail and tennis shoes and jeans. If she weren't carrying everything she owns in worn plastic bags from the nearby supermarket and paper department store bags with two string handles, and if she weren't becoming hunched over from always looking down, you would mistake her for a college student.
The older ones look a little stranger, mostly because they try harder to look like what they think normal is. There is one who likes bright colors, usually wears a red running suit with white stripes. The pants and jacket are slightly different shades of red. She seems to imagine that women of her age and should have a weekly appointment at the hair dresser, so she tries to curl and tease her thin hair. It turns out a little off and garish; I expect she has trouble finding a mirror to use or any way to keep her hair trimmed. But she, like most of the others, tries so hard to look like everybody else.
I know what you are thinking. I've heard it before. Why don't they get jobs? Tell me how you find a job when everything you own is in a shopping bag, and if you leave the bag anywhere unwatched somebody will take it and you won't even be able to change your underwear? And how do you wash your clothes when every cent, yes every damn last cent, goes to buy food or soap or toothpaste if there you have the luxury of a little bit of money left over?
Oh yes, I know about the free meals. I go past two places that serve them on my way home. One is at a nearby church that was once a synagogue and has a stained glass Star of David high atop the north wall and the line to get in for dinner is always at least two blocks long. The other is the emptiest corner at an intersection about half a mile away, a truck stop where people seem to line up for no reason until a pickup truck stops and two people get out and give out Styrofoam cups of something warm and steaming and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches folded in waxed paper. And then there is the church where they serve a hot lunch twice a week. Two block line there too, that starts to form at about nine in the morning.
(To Be Continued)
Tuesday, November 04, 2003
Cspineless Broadcasting Company
pulled a miniseries about Ronald Reagan, sending it to Showtime which is also owned by Viacom. The Freepers have been beating on them about it because they didn't think it was flattering. CBS says its decision to cancel the movie was "based solely on our reaction to seeing the final film, not the controversy that erupted around a draft of the script." Right. And donkeys fly.
As Atrios points out the RNC now has veto power over TV programming. So now they have the news and entertainment. And CBS' executives have basically announced that they are spineless.
It just gets better and better. Think of how bad it would be if the media weren't liberal.
pulled a miniseries about Ronald Reagan, sending it to Showtime which is also owned by Viacom. The Freepers have been beating on them about it because they didn't think it was flattering. CBS says its decision to cancel the movie was "based solely on our reaction to seeing the final film, not the controversy that erupted around a draft of the script." Right. And donkeys fly.
As Atrios points out the RNC now has veto power over TV programming. So now they have the news and entertainment. And CBS' executives have basically announced that they are spineless.
It just gets better and better. Think of how bad it would be if the media weren't liberal.
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