It's that time again!

As the old year concedes to the inevitable arrival of the new year, I'd like to wish anyone reading this a much better 2007 than we now dream possible!


And as I type this, our most excellent new family member, Sammy Cincos, is anxiously awaiting the flipping of the old calendars' page revealing the necessity of (finally!) opening the first page of the new calendar Sammy received for Christmas.

He can't wait. And frankly, neither can I. For the past several years I've been telling myself at the end of every December, "Next year's just GOT to be better." Always I'm disappointed. So while I may be naive in repeating this anthem, I have to believe 2007--more than recent new years--holds much promise.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL!

Just wondering....

There's a rumor going around that 28 hours before his execution, Sadam Hussein complained of having an extremely sore throat.

He was immediately placed on a high dosage of the potent antibiotics penicillin, amoxicillin and cephaloporins in the hope of preventing strep throat which might have prevented his hanging.

This is part of the conundrum I have to deal with as a member of this species, i.e., why do they use sterile needles for lethal injections?

You go girl!

Note: There are few Texans I admire more than Jim Hightower and Molly Ivins. As 2006 draws to a close, I'd like to just take a second to express my very best wishes to them both, but especially the latter of these two, Molly Ivins, newspaper columnist and political commentator.

For the past month or so, Molly's column in our local paper has not appeared. Recently I learned why. Molly Ivins is on a leave of absence for treatment of her cancer.

Ivins was originally diagnosed with stage III breast cancer in 1999. It recurred in 2003 and 2005. I was very saddened to learn she was once more undergoing treatment for it these past several weeks. Cancer is a terrifying foe, but I take encouragement that Molly Ivins, besides being a personal hero of mine, is a real fighter.

It is my sincerest hope Molly Ivins is battling this like she's battled destructive forces all her life and that she will return sometime next month as our newspaper has promised. I deeply, and dearly, appreciate people like Molly Ivins and truly believe we wouldn't be in the mess we find ourselves were there more reporters like her doing the job she does.

Happy New Year, Molly! My very best thoughts go out to you!

Reconnecting with fine art, the slow cooking of Frogs and hats as a statement of fashion (or other stuff)

We're all familiar with the boiling Frog story of how, if you drop a Frog into a pot of boiling water, it will attempt to leap out. But if you place the Frog in a pan of cold water and heat it gradually, the Frog will remain until its tender meat falls off its bones. All from slow cooking.

Well, in a comment I made here recently under "Christmas eve 2006" I quoted one of Hitler's nazis from an interview after WWII which seemed to support the boiling Frog story. Of how everything seemed "normal" in Germany because the folks there mistook the forms of society, i.e., the "houses, the shops, the jobs, the mealtimes, the visits, the concerts, the cinema, the holidays" as signs that everything was pretty much as it always had been.

Yet, like the Frog placed in the gradually heating pot of cold water, those nice German folks didn't recognize they were being slowly cooked. The society's forms remained constant. It was their spirit as a nation they didn't recognize as the stinking mass of decaying rot, reeking havoc on the world it was terrorizing.

But there does appear to be exceptions to the cooking Frog story. In recent history, there exists no greater symbol of its contradiction than that of the Phrygian cap. That is, to the French at least.

Here is one such example of a Phrygian cap.

The Phrygian cap goes back centuries, but during the French revolution, its wearing became the symbol of freedom. In fact, as we are reminded over at Wikipedia, the national symbol of France, Marianne, is depicted wearing a Phrygian cap in her representations on statue and coin.

Eugène Delacroix - La liberté guidant le peuple

In one of the more famous pieces of Romanticism in the visual arts, Eugene Delacroix's 1830 "Liberty Leading the People" depicts Liberté commanding the people in revolt from that summer in the streets of Paris when a constitutional monarch, Louis-Philippe, was installed by the people as their king. The Frogs, sensing they were slowly being boiled alive had rose up and escaped their fate.

Worthy of mention is the fact that the government of France purchased Delacroix's "Liberté". More note worthy is the fact the government chose to hide the painting deemed too dangerous for public viewing for the next eighteen years. But perhaps most notable of all is the adornment atop Liberté's head--a Phrygian cap, ultimate symbol of liberty for the French.

From the current state of the U.S. today, i.e., a nation of apathetics and with a government sensing that and exploiting it to their advantage, we have become torturers immune from world opinion and international treaties, a country with the self-proclaimed right of pre-emptive attacks upon other nations based on lies as truth, and an insouciant citizenry losing their hard earned rights, it's difficult to imagine such a painting as Delacroix's being created in America.

For just as the Frogs sensed the water about to boil in the summer of 1830 and jumped from the pot, seeming to disprove the boiling Frog story, Twenty-first Century America appears to reaffirm it. Were such a painting to be made in this country today, it would likely be of "Liberty Fleeing the People," not leading them. Lady Liberty would be running for her life--from us!

And as for her cap? The Phrygian cap enjoying a resurgence in popularity as being modeled here by Dada?*

Well, Americans needn't concern themselves with a return of that fashion anytime soon, thankfully. Not here anyway. American's taste doesn't run in those fashion circles. It's way too out of vogue for us, I'm sure. Much as our passé taste for the Liberty the hat represents.

*(NOTE: Dada hasn't had a chance to break in his Phrygian; to shape it yet. Revolting fashion takes time.)

"Sick of You"

So it's the day after Christmas and the spirit of the season is already fading. I was just reading an interesting Information Clearing House article sample from Sheila Samples, "Will Stinky Cut The Big One?" but when I click on the link to read the rest of the story something else pops up, having tempted me with, (OK, I found the rest of the story here at Smirking Chimp)

"Bush is a brutal, pathological liar -- arguably a homicidal maniac. After losing two wars against helpless, unarmed nations, he's bored. The Decider is moving on to greater things, and those who know how to listen to him know the decision to nuke Iran has already been made."

Meanwhile, in the background is a song by Lou Reed playing titled "Sick of You". (Sorry, no YouTube video available.) But if these are portents of things to come in 2007, stay tuned. My meltdown may be imminent.

Oh, and I forgot to mention...to go along with the above (and below), I was at someone's blog (my apologies, I don't remember whose) reading comments and drowning in envy at things being said by someone in Spain that we, here, in this country can't say because "freedom of speech" comes at a cost few Americans can afford to pay anymore."

So, I will let Lou Reed speak for me instead. His lyrics hint at how I'm feeling at the moment.

Lou Reed - Sick Of You

I was up in the morning with the TV blarin'

brush my teeth sittin' watchin' the news

All the beaches were closed the ocean was a Red Sea

but there was no one there to part in two

There was no fresh salad because there's hypos in the cabbage

Staten Island disappeared at noon

And they say the midwest is in great distress

and NASA blew up the moon


The ozone layer has no ozone anymore

and you're gonna leave me for the guy next door

I'm Sick of You, I'm Sick of You


They arrested the Mayor for an illegal favor

sold the Empire State to Japan

And Oliver North married William Secord

and gave birth to a little Teheran

And the Ayatollah bought a nuclear warship

if he dies he wants to go out in style

And there's nothing to eat that don't carry the stink

of some human waste dumped in the Nile


But one thing is certainly true

no one here knows what to do

I'm Sick of You, I'm Sick of You


The radio said there were 400 dead

in some small town in Arkansas

Some whacked out trucker drove into a nuclear reactor

and killed everybody he saw

Now he's on Morton Downey and he's glowing and shining

doctors say this is a medical advance

They say the bad makes the good and there's something to be
learned

in every human experience


Well I know one thing that really is true

This here's a zoo and the keeper ain't you

And I'm sick of it, I'm Sick of You


They ordained the Trumps and then he got the mumps

and died being treated at Mt. Sinal

And my best friend Bill died from a poison pill

some wired doctor prescribed for stress

My arms and legs are shrunk the food all has lumps

They discovered some animal no one's ever seen

It was an inside trader eating a rubber tire

after running over Rudy Giuliani


They say the President's dead but no one can find his head

It's been missing now for weeks

But no one noticed it he had seemed so fit

and I'm Sick of it

I'm Sick of You, I'm so Sick of You, bye, bye, bye

bye, bye, bye

Christmas Eve, 2006

(Caution: Contains graphic images. May not be suitable for younger readers.)

Thought I'd take a moment to reflect on what it means to be an American this time of year. First of all, I'd like to thank a group of University of Oregon students in Eugene for constructing this giant American flag. And, as I suspect, if this flag is made from cans donated from our Oil Tanker secretary of state's backyard, I'd like to also express my appreciation to Condoleezza Rice for recycling. Used oil barrels transformed into the stars and stripes is a thing of beauty and much inspiration.

Oh what's not to love about Christmas time of year? One need only walk around the neighborhood after dusk to discover whole worlds of elves and trolls coming to life, working their season's magic upon the darkness of night. It really does make one smile. Even if one doesn't feel like it. But just as enchanting as the nighttime becomes around the 'hood, there's that one-time startling moment the day after that inevitably jumps out at me this time of year as well.

It was a couple of weeks ago on one of my morning walks with the new dog, "Sammy Cincos", that we came across a ghastly scene. In the front of a neighbor's house was a yard littered with bodies! A dead Santa, snowman, multiple reindeer -- all lying slaughtered in the winter grass. It was like discovering the aftermath of a nighttime fire fight just hours afterward in the first light of day. It looked like the F-16's had been called in for support too. In reminiscence of a Ramadi massacre, this is what I saw.

But these are just inflatable snowmen, reindeer and Santa that come to life each night when they are blown up. Unlike the *real* Santa's convoying in their "sleds" down Iraqi highways who don't spring to life when they get blown up. They die instead.

This is a picture of one of those Santas in Iraq I received sometime within the past week. It was sent to us as a kind of Christmas card. (I've altered it for obvious reasons, i.e., I didn't get permission to print it before publishing it here on the blog.) But, trust me, it's an authentic photo of an American *Santa Claus* taken from somewhere inside Iraq a few days earlier (I'll not reveal where--not so much to protect the innocent, as to protect my ass--but rest assured, it's an authentic "Merry Christmas" photo. I also edited out the person Santa had his other arm around who sent it. Ah, that'd be the arm without the high powered automatic rifle.)

But as I reflected on the two images over the next day or so, I thought they made an interesting contrast in imagery and, taken collectively, provide an excellent collage of who we, as Americans, are today.

The first image, one of contemporary American Christmas lawn ornaments showing a collapsed Santa, reindeer and snowmen--they're all across America, purchased at any Wal-Mart, Lowe's, Home Depot, etc.--lying dead and lifeless by day until blown up at night. This juxtaposed with Santas in Iraq spreading cheer behind high powered rifles, so vibrant and alive by day, until suddenly blown up on some Iraqi roadside.

How cosmic is that? With tens of thousands of collapsed-by-day plastic purveyors of the joyous meaning of the season littering the yards of America, while in Iraq lie tens of thousands of collapsed Iraqi men, women and children, many blown up while sleeping in their homes at night.

And somehow I suspect it's gonna get even better come the new year. So I think this is an excellent time to stop and reflect upon the meaning of Christmas, peace on Earth, good will to men, and all that other meaningless bullshit America clings to. Peach on Earth, goodwill to men is truly a grand delusion.

To the Santas in Iraq I wish for you, that you could lay down your weapons. To give Iraqis the best gift possible. Your absence! Just leave! There are millions of us back home who would welcome you in your red Christmas suits. And you wouldn't need to carry a fucking assault weapon to spread the season's cheer to little innocent children!

Please come home soon. Merry Christmas!

Bush press conference synopsis, 12/20/06

From president Bush's press conference Wednesday:

"Victory in Iraq is achievable," he said. "It hadn't happened nearly as quickly as I hoped it would have." ... (Oh, like commander-in-chief Bush proclaimed May 1, 2003 on the deck of the aircraft carrier USS Abraham Lincoln in his "Mission Accomplished" photo-op?)

Bush also seemed to be hinting Americans should lower their Iraq expectations by further saying, "I'm not going to make predictions about what 2007 will look like in Iraq" (having failed miserably with his 2003, 2004, 2005, and 2006 Iraq predictions). Bush continued, "except that it's going to require difficult choices and additional sacrifices because the enemy is merciless and violent." This warning to Americans and their service men and women serving in Iraq from a president who couldn't complete his tour of duty in a champagne unit of the Texas Air National Guard dodging active military duty in Vietnam.

But there's hope the president's lucidity gene is slowly activating as evidenced by comments Wednesday when Bush said of his Iraq war, "We're not winning. We're not losing." Compared to two months ago when he said, "absolutely, we're winning." At this rate, expect by late January Bush will admit, "Hmm, you know, we're getting our asses kicked over there!"

Sammy Cincos tackles the wilds!

New dog, Sammy Cincos, and I went for a walk up in the foothills about a mile from the house this afternoon. New stream beds forged from last summer's flooding rains have made great (and wide) walking trails.

Despite taking a photography course many years ago, I confess I don't know how a little flash can influence the casting of an entire landscape in warm tones, but it does. (Compare with one below, taken after I turned the flash off--basically the same scene, zoomed in.)
It was pleasant walking with temps in the mid to upper forties, but a change of weather was coming over the mountains. The sun was soon swallowed up by clouds devouring the blue sky.

But neither young Sam nor I were deterred. Soon our perseverance paid off when Sammy rousted out his first bunny ever from the brush. Wanting desperately to pursue, he stood up on his hind legs like a prairie dog (or grizzly bear). And there he stood for the longest time watching as the streaking white of the bunny's tale vanished into the distant landscape which, like the clouds devouring blue sky above, swallowed the bunny below. I congratulated Sam several times as he reluctantly conceded to a leash heading in the opposite direction from the bunny's.

Shortly after our return, it got really dark. A sudden wind dropped the temperature, as we watched little raindrops appear outside on the patio. The timing of our walk had been impeccable!

Life in Antedilusia

Bush approves nuclear cooperation with India

Dec. 19, 2006
"WASHINGTON - President Bush on Monday signed a civilian nuclear deal with India, even though it has not submitted to full international inspections.

" ' The bill will help keep America safe by paving the way for India to join the global effort to stop the spread of nuclear weapons,' Bush said."

"Huh?" I suspect much of America's inability to understand our president is because the majority of us are incapable of going into that *special space* Bush inhabits. To get there, one has to be able to enter a world of incoherence extremely difficult for rational minds to visit, let alone inhabit continuously. Hence, our difficulty grasping the concept that as a direct result of Bush policy, global terrorism is worse, which shows it's better.

"Every sign of progress in Iraq adds to the desperation of the terrorists and the remnants of Saddam's brutal regime."

By losing Iraq, we are winning Iraq, Bush is saying. Making the world more dangerous, keeps us safer. It's the same logic that allows him to say stuff like "We need an energy bill that encourages consumption," or to hold up to fellow Americans an Omaha, Nebraska single mother of three working three jobs in order to 'put food on her family' as "uniquely American, isnt' it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that," as an example all Americans struggling to stay afloat should take inspiration from.

Fortunately, Bush is able to maintain his credibility among those who count most--his supporting cast of enablers like his vice president, secretaries of state and defense, his attorney generals, all who are able to exist in that same space where Bush lives. A space of detached realities.

Who can forget Don Rumsfeld's wonderful clarity while accessing Bush space when he told us, "I believe what I said yesterday. I don't know what I said, but I know what I think, and, well, I assume it's what I said."

Or "Big Dick" Cheney, who admitted somewhat reluctantly three and one half years after the start of the war to oust Sadam and find his WMD, that “clearly, the intelligence...was wrong,” but assured us the destruction of Iraq, despite bad intel, "was the right thing to do, and if we had to do it again, we would do exactly the same thing."

So, as Americans, we live in a very unique country at a very unique time. We're now a nation able to view the detached realities of our leadership by men capable of manifesting them and casting us all into their psychoses.

And finally, when it comes to doing what America does best, arming the world, proliferating nuclear weapons capability globally and waging horrendous wars of mass destruction, I wouldn't place much hope in our new democratically controlled houses of congress, as demonstrated by our new senate majority leader, Harry Reid, who just this past weekend said he would support an increase of U.S. troops in Iraq!

Apparently, many democrats are capable of sharing in Bush's *special space* of detachment also. Oh, what a better world it might be for us all if only we were able to just go there with them!

But who's laughing?

What others are saying:

Gore Vidal "We’ve had enough of you. Go home to Crawford."

Dick Reed: "IMPEACH this criminal. He is not our president."
(No, I have no idea who Dick Reed is.)

Ramsey Clark "Has he assumed the power to wage aggressive war by himself? Is that an impeachable offense? Has he threatened to use nuclear weapons? Is that an impeachable offense? Then let's impeach him."

Meldonna" at Baja Canada, Seattle: "Impeach Cheney. Impeach Bush. Then remove both from office. It is the only way the war in Iraq ends."

Enigma (at Watergate Summer): "Impeach and Imprison....
and End the Occupation."

Country Joe (formerly with Fish): "Chicken Hawk, draft dodgin' son of a bitch!"

Nancy Pelosi "Impeachment is off the table."

****************

I'm appalled at the impeachment stand down being ordered by democratic leadership. We impeach a president for lying about an affair, but not for lying 652,948 people to their deaths?

I've heard numerous excuses from the left why they cannot impeach: It would be too divisive, i.e., "We're not like republicans"; History has shown the impeachee gains in public popularity/support; "We don't have the numbers in the senate to be successful"; etc.; etc. etc.

Bullshit! Over 650,000 people lie wrongfully dead at the bloody hands of war criminals and we're going to sit idle and allow it? One spilt semen stained blue dress warrants more outrage and justice than the spilt red blood of hundreds of thousands of Iraqis and Americans? WTF?

We're either a nation of laws applied consistently at all times or we're just another failed nation. The rubble heap of history is full of such failed states. And God doesn't give a good goddamn we're "saving" our world in his name.

Friday musings.

As a result of the majority of U.S. troops in Iraq being killed by improvised explosive devices when juxtaposed with the fuel tanks of their vehicles, there comes good news. The army will be receiving 160,000 combat uniforms made with a flame retardant fabric, NOMEX, manufactured by Dupont.

I swear, if I had known four years ago this war was going to last longer than two or three weeks, a month at most, I would have found some vehicle for investing in the military industrial complex. But oh no, I didn't learn a god-damn thing when Country Joe told me 35 years ago, "there's plenty good money to be made, supplying the Army with the tools of the trade."

(I was going to expound on surviving a fire bombing in war, but it's just too gruesome to talk about here and, as we all know, in America we'd really rather not see, hear or have to think about such things as what a war can do to a body. It's just too gory, sorry.)
**********

But it still may not be too late to profit from Iraq as evidenced by the testimony yesterday of the army's chief of staff. Warning that the army will "break" if its numbers are not increased by more than the 30,000 it's been authorized to grow by, general Peter Schoomaker wants to form two new brigades next year that could be sent to Iraq in 2008! (Yeh, yeh, I know, fuck all you people who voted for an end to the insanity. That's for sissies who live in real foo-foo democracies where their governments care what the people think.)

But at a cost of $1.2 billion dollars for every 10,000 men and women the army adds (I'm not sure if that's a one-time cost, an annual figure, or per-week expense), and Iraq deployments now being prepared for into the next decade or two, maybe there's still time to get in on the action and make some good money. After all, as we were reminded here a couple days ago, if you plan to retire in America, you'll need around a cool $1 million to do it. Better start growing the green now if you want to avoid retiring under a Florida freeway down the road.
**********

Finally, like most folks, I'm sure, I'm following with much interest the unfolding story of South Dakota senator Tim Johnson, aka The 51st Democrat, now in a hospital post-op condition, future unknown. It would have been far more intriguing had he suffered from polonium-210 radiation poisoning, ala Alexander Valterovich Litvinenko, rather than intracerebral bleeding, but it does leave one to ponder if god isn't playing games with us by tipping the political balance into stalemate should Johnson fail to return, leaving 'Big Dick' Cheney with the power to decide all things senatorial.

Oh well, not to fret. I suspect I was placing way, way too much faith in a democratic congress to really change things as relates to the U.S. international modus operandi anyway.

And maybe instead of just toying with us, this senator Johnson story is simply god hinting to us he is really diabolical? Or maybe god's just a republican? Oh wait, I'm being redundant aren't I?

"A New Way Forward"

You're gonna walk that endless highway,
Walk that high-way till you die.
All you children goin' my way,
Better tell your home-life sweet goodbye.
Bob Dylan, "Endless Highway"

I heard Bush speak yesterday as he stood before a backdrop of high ranking pentagon officers who were sporting more brass than could be alloyed from zinc and all the copper ever mined from the El Chino open pit in New Mexico.

The one thing that always impresses me about Bush when speaking about his war is how remarkably he sounds like Bush from his Iraq speeches of last summer, last spring, 2005, 2004, etc. Almost as if he'd prerecorded these back in '03 before the invasion to be used as little time-release Sudafed capsules.

However, if last month's mid-term elections are any indication, it seems all the reassurances of Bush's Iraq vision have lost their potency. The efficacy of Bush's TV time capsule commercials for war have worn off.

Well not exactly, as evidenced by the front page of this morning's local newspaper. It sported the picture of a local 29 year old soldier, a sergeant who was killed in Iraq when his tank, as part of a convoy, was struck by a rocket propelled grenade.

But as Bush's aide, Dick Cheney, has told us, he and the president are never ones to listen to public opinion when it comes to their war. On the contrary, Bush's capsule time released for our consumption yesterday seems to hint at an even greater troop strength in the months ahead, not less. But the pill has a new coating, hopefully making it easier to swallow. It's called "A New Way Forward." Remarkably it tastes a lot like "The Old Way Behind Us."

I can't imagine how it must be for soldiers in Iraq to endure this debate back home. Seems like folks want 'em to come home while their commander-in-chief demands they continue to march. And despite the public having spoken, their congress continues to fund their war.

How difficult it must be, convoying along in your M-1A1, $4,000,000 plus Abrams tank replete with depleted uranium armor knowing that any second you could be toasted by a low-cost RPG or roadside bomb as casualty of a U.S. created Iraqi civil war .

But Bush appreciates the difficulty of the mission ahead for our service men and women. Of the courage required in the face of targeting by guerillas and insurgents, for it's a courage Bush, himself, never had. In fact, he couldn't find the character to finish his tour in a champagne unit of the Texas Air National Guard dodging the Vietnam war.

Thank god in the past thirty plus years, Bush has nurtured his strength and courage in the face of incredible chaos and danger. Appears he's going to need it for his Iraqi "New Way Forward."

(2006 Iraq deaths through November 17, 2006)
A "New Way Forward," or the same old road?

It's too late for me, but maybe not you!

An 6'X8' retirement shack may be more than Dada should expect!

Over the brief history of this blog, there have been a few occasions when I've joked around about having to eventually forfeit our home under increasingly dire economic circumstances brought on by the follies of our government we trust to "protect" us.

"There's a new freeway bridge just a couple of blocks from here," I've said kiddingly. "And if we're fortunate enough to be in one of the earlier waves of new dispossessed, we might be able to claim a spot towards the bridge's underside middle where the hordes of homeless will insulate us from the cold in winter and heat of summer."

But I'm not so sure that's a joke after reading another one of those articles in our local newspaper yesterday. You know, one of those by some recurring financial adviser that tells us, in order to retire in these United States, you'll need a nest egg of about $1 million!

Now, one of the descriptions I chose to set the mood for this blog when it began back in June, 2005 was a quote from a little book entitled "E.T. 101." It takes a light approach to some serious shit, much like my humor about being homeless. "E.T. 101" is a book supposedly channeled from aliens. And looking down on us from above, they posit: "Keep in mind that this planet is no model for rational thought, and that what passes for sanity here is sending chills down the spine of the remainder of the universe."

I'm sure that was said in regards to our endless, senseless wars, unending genocides, the starvation of masses, etc. But I'm sure it could also be applied to articles by financial advisers telling us we Americans need $1 million in retirement if we're to live comfortably and avoid all those unpleasantries the rest of the world seems to be drowning in.

So when I say each of us needs about $1 million before we can retire here in this country, juxtapose that with what's going on in other places like Iraq, or Darfur. Suddenly, reading about how much we need to stay comfortable, to avoid living under a bridge and retire comfortably reinforces the E.T.'s claim that, "what passes for sanity here is sending chills down the spine of the remainder of the universe."

But let's assume that we all buy into this retirement requirement. Pretend that's rational for a second. (And it may be!) If so, me and Mrs. Dada are doomed. It looks like the underside of a freeway overpass for us.

However, before you get too depressed, take heart. If you are not yet retired, if you have a few years to go, there may be hope for you. As the article tells us, if you are 40 and have managed to save $50,000 towards retirement to this point, there is still hope for you to reach that magic retirement goal of the $1 million nest egg. All you need do is stash away $500/month at annual growth rate of 6% and,"Voila!," you'll reach the necessary $1 million goal by age 84! Now here's the sad news: Life expectancy for a male in the U.S. is 75.4 years. That's a white male. (If you're a black male, you can expect to expire shortly before your 70th birthday.)

The point here being, whether you're a white or black male and only have $50,000 saved by age 40, you and I may get to know each other one day--underneath a freeway bridge (if I live long enough). Oh, and as for you ladies out there, white or black, you can expect to expire by 80.5 and 76.1 years respectively. So we'll see you under the bridge also.

But here's the one encouraging note for those of you who are 40 with a current retirement savings total of $50,000. If you up your monthly contribution towards your retirement to $1,653 each and every month the article tells us, and you take greater risks with that money earning a 13% return on your money (!!!) , you can attain the mythical $1 million American retirement requirement by age 65! (In that case, we probably won't be sharing a spot under a bridge, you lucky bastards!)

This leaves me with only one question. What fucking Universe are the financial advisers who write this shit living in? Obviously, not the same one as me.

Art appreciation 101

I'd like to dedicate today's piece to George Bush and the rest of his administration upon whom aesthetics seems lost. For that reason, I chose this particular piece from 19th Century painter, Théodore Géricault. It's entitled "Raft of the Medusa" (larger version here) and it looks like this:


As a student of art history, I was very moved by this painting and the story that inspired it. It depicts survivors of a French ship, The Medusa, that sank in 1816. One hundred and forty passengers and crew died as a result and, as Answers.com tells us, the story became legend throughout Europe, leading "to a scandal in the French government because of the incompetence of the ship's captain and the feeble rescue effort."

Which, now that I think about it, is probably also lost on George Bush and his administration.

(Credit where credit is due: Thanks to Enigma over at Watergate Summer for this inspiring piece!)

If you believe........

• the Bush administration considering more lead in gasoline because tougher EPA standards introduced 20 years ago have successfully reduced the lead in the air we breathe, so Bush can now allow more lead back in gas which will raise the amount of lead in the air we breath is o.k., or
  
• the U.S. leaving Iraq will bring chaos to that country sounds right, or
  
• president Bush, as he again assured us yesterday, will not leave Iraq until he achieves victory, then

........you may want to have the carotid arteries supplying blood to your brain checked. They're probably dangerously clogged.

Gone to the Dogs

Mrs. Dada and I got our first dog in '88. I don't know what took us so long. Perhaps we were too busy for a dog while building lives of quiet desperation.

Her name was Susan and she was the runt of the litter. Her coming to us was the realization of a dream we'd long had to one day have a dalmation. (Some subliminal Walt Disney marketing, no doubt.)

I recall one of Susan's early visits to our vet when he remarked, "She doesn't seem the least bit squirrelly." My wife and I looked at each other in puzzlement. We didn't know that part of their reputation. But for a first dog, Susan the dalmation turned out to be all the dog one could ask for -- and more.

I realize many with dogs reading that may feel the same way about your own. We learned this from our three subsequent dogs, 2 retired greyhound racers, and one "feral" greyhound rescued from the pound by the local greyhound rescue people, adopted out, and then returned to them five years later when her owners became pregnant and were no longer able to afford "Annie."

As with Susan, our first, each of the greyhounds succeeding her proved to be more than anyone could ask for in a dog. It's still a puzzle to me how Annie's previous owners would opt to give up such a great dog instead of their new baby. (Okay, okay, that was tongue-in-cheek for those who prefer people over dogs.)

With the departure of our last greyhound, Pony, this past May, I noticed after a couple of months I began making friends with neighborhood dogs during walks. I wouldn't walk without a couple of dog cookies on me. This was followed by a growing interest in the "Dogs" section of the classified ads a month or so later.

After reading the same ad for dalmation puppies for over a week, I could no longer resist. I called just to "visit" with the woman selling them. And after our conversation, I realized I'd made a date for Mrs. Dada and I to meet her and view the two remaining females she had left.

The next afternoon, we visited the dalmations for almost an hour. I took a liking to the litter runt (pictured here on the left). But as we had agreed before our visit, Mrs. Dada and I left dogless with a promise to call the next day to reveal our decision. We did that before departing for a greyhound "meet and greet" the following morning. "We aren't quite ready to adopt just yet," we told the nice lady.

There were only a couple of greyhounds available. I bonded with one already taken. Probably because that was safest. Pictured here is one of those up for adoption. Her name is Byline B-Line. (You have to love their racing names.) Again we managed to come away dogless.

But two days later I found myself at the Humane Society. We've heard the larger dogs are the ones least likely to be adopted, so those are the ones I decided to visit. Three in particular caught my attention. I took notes on each: age, sex, whether housebroken, why they ended up here, etc.

Another two days later I returned with Mrs Dada. One of the three was gone, another appeared listless. "She's not feeling well," Mrs. Dada said. After watching her, I agreed.

And then there was the dalmation mix. We spent a half hour with him in one of the yards, then left. That was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. As the doors of the Humane Society opened the Friday after, we were there.

The rest is pretty much history. Named Luxor by his previous family, then "Charlie" by us, and now "Sammy" (his final name, I hope), he hopped in the car for his ride to his new home. On the way, he fell asleep.

After two weeks with this boy, we can honestly say, Sammy the dalmation has turned out to be all the dog one could ask for -- and more. But that seems to be the nature of most dogs, doesn't it?

The Grapes of Wreath

Over the weekend I constructed a wood peace symbol frame. Yesterday, Mrs. Dada began its conversion into a holiday wreath. It's coming along very nicely. The lights are the only thing left to permanently affix. By day's end the Wreath of God will befall our house, hopefully as a decoration in the spirit of the season.

Realizing how incredibly divisive advocating for peace can be, I'm fairly confident we'll be safe, save for a few who make take extreme issue with juxtaposing what is, for them, two contradictory symbols: Christmas and Peace.

Fortunately, however, we don't live someplace governed by a neighborhood association.

Losing the battle for Iraq, but winning the invasion on privacy

But if crying and holding on
And flying on the ground is wrong
Then I'm sorry to let you down

"Flying on the Ground is Wrong" B.S. (buffalo springfield)

As our knowledge of privacy rights grow, we learn how much our privacy rights have shrunk. (I'll forgo the strong temptation to paraphrase something here Ben Franklin said about liberty vs. security a few years back.) But I was amused by news of the government's database of airline passengers it keeps.

Based on a number of factors like your flying habits and preferences, Uncle Sam creates a kind of report card on each flying member of the public. So if you normally sit in a window seat but book a flight one day with a sudden change of habit and decide to sit on the aisle, tsk, tsk. This could negatively impact your flying "grade".

But the great advantage to this that I can see is, it's like being back in school except you don't have to take a test. You don't even have to study for the test you don't have to take. The government simply issues you a report card without those things! (I'm not sure what happens if you get an "F" or decide to sit on the aisle sometime. At the very least, you'll probably miss your flight to Akron.)

The other thing we learned about flying late last week is the incredible X-raying of every flying person! It's a program just beginning. Initially offered to those lucky enough to fly out of Phoenix (in more ways than one), but be patient. Other airports you frequent will also offer these as soon as next year.

Here, in the above example, an innocuous enough looking passenger is voluntarily handing over her Glock G17 9 millimeter handgun. Simple enough, problem solved, right? Well, not exactly. The new X-ray technology reveals at least 8 or 9 other concealments of possible weapons or places weapons could be concealed.

Of course, we all know that radiation exposure isn't real good for the body. It has a cummulative effect that can be harmful over the course of one's lifetime. (Pity the poor frequent flyers?) That we should limit our exposures to X-rays to cases where it's absolutely necessary. Like when you have cancer and radiation treatment is indicated to combat the cancer from over-exposure to X-rays and radiation that might have caused your cancer.

But what I found particularly unamusing about this unfolding story was a Jack Cafferty segment on CNN's The Situation Room coverage of it Friday. Reading viewers feedback on this plan, Cafferty chose to feature only those who responded positively to showing us their "naughty bits". (Negative reactions to the X-rays were up on the website, but CNN chose to go with the "funny side" on air, making this nothing more than a snickering moment.)

Like I said, I'll forgo the temptation to quote Ben Franklin here. I'll quote someone equally famous instead.

I got your picture, I got your picture
I'd like a million of you over myself
I want a doctor to take a picture
So I can look at you from inside as well

"Turning Japanese" The Vapors