My afternoon with AJ

Yesterday, I spent three hours on the phone/computer with "Tech Support" merely trying to retrieve an e-mail program suffering from inaccessibility since I "successfully" networked our home computers last week. It's one of those problems more annoying than anything major.

Thankfully my tech attendant, "AJ" -- somewhere on the other side of the Earth which just coincidentally is likely in the area for which the India Pale Ale I was drinking was named -- was most pleasant. I concluded AJ must be scripted for just such occasions when support dictates spending more time with a customer than most parents spend with their kids each day.

He asked, "How was your weekend?" I explained, being a three day weekend, it was great.

"It was a banking holiday, right?" AJ asserted, noting why it was special.

"Yes, exactly," I confirmed. "We have 10 of them every year. My favorite one being the last Banking Holiday of the year where family gets together and exchanges presents in our gratitude to banks and other industry's for giving us these holidays."

As I gave control of my computer cursor over to AJ somewhere in Asia, I yelled to Mrs. Dada in the next room to come see. "Look." Holding both arms above my head, "NO HANDS!" I excitedly proclaimed as the cursor moved miraculously about our desktop without me.

"How is your weather?" AJ wanted to know. I learned it was about as hot "there" as it was here and the "AC" in AJ's apartment was not working.

"Do you like cars?" he asked. "What kind?"

We both agreed we liked cars and I imagined AJ is looking forward to owning one some day when they eventually build roads for him to drive on. (Of course, they will have to ban the oxen from them.)

After three hours or so AJ returned control of my computer to me, sadly conceding he had failed. Had my problem been worse I'm sure I wouldn't have felt the tinge of satisfaction I experienced just then. That even technology gods fail sometimes!

AJ's recommendation? Try a different e-mail program, OR buy a new computer! I thanked him for his time and he for mine. I encouraged him--when he got off work--to go drink an India Pale Ale.

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

My experience with AJ highlighted my evening reflections of man's spreading condition towards increasingly more dismal levels of complexity.

From tech support that collapsed, I listened to other stories on the news, like

• U.S. violent crime is up. Reason? Gangs! But what can you expect from a nation that exports organized gangs to indiscriminately shoot up and destroy other countries?
• The spread of super bugs in the U.S. that are extremely resistant to any known treatment. Reason? Overcrowding of people in inner cities and prisons that promote their spread.
• Or take the TB infected man on a NO FLY list who flew at will endangering others, illustrating how successfully our Homeland Security fails us.
• The more and more contaminated foods not just unfit for cat and dog consumption, but being eaten by people too, illustrating how well our Agriculture and Food and Drug departments with their drastically slashed budgets protect us.
• Russia's new ICBM's incapable of being stopped by the U.S. anti-missile's boondoggle gift to defense contractor's program. It's just a response to the new arms race being triggered by aggressive U.S. policies.

And on and on. Throw in globalization, global warming, the Bush administration, our congress men and women and who should be surprised that even Tech Support is collapsing.

But one has to love the irony. For as I sat watching AJ control my computer from the other side of the Earth, he listened as I told him I was drinking one of his India Pale Ales.

This morning I took one of AJ's recommendations. I bought a new computer. It'll ship in a couple of weeks. As soon as they assemble all the parts from Japan, Taiwan, etc. Hopefully, they'll all work together and that will stave off my future need of tech support for awhile.

But why am I not too optimistic that in setting up the new system when it arrives, I won't need to visit with AJ again very soon?

"Ding dong, the witch is dead!"

What a day for celebration! For those of you who passionately attacked the mother of a fallen soldier (or "heroes" as you war-mongering Bush enablers call the uniformed men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice for the skanky asses of you who have sacrificed nothing) I say, "Congratulations!"

"Ding dong, your witch is dead!"

Speaking, of course, of fallen Casey Sheehan's tireless mom, Cindy, who became the nation's symbol of the anti-war movement in this country. Exposing those blood thirsting advocates and speaking out against the stench of their lust for the endless bloodlettings of a war that has killed or refugeed ten times, one hundred times--no--a thousand god-damned times the innocent lives destroyed on September 11, 2001 in this country in a nation--Iraq--that had nothing to do with 9/11, I imagine Cindy Sheehan's "retirement" is a *special occasion* worthy of much celebration for you.

It must be a great day of gloating for those spinning Bush's war and its dizzying death tolls higher and higher, faster and faster, to know Cindy Sheehan has stepped down.

While Bush himself has warned how much worse to expect the death toll of American military will get in Iraq this summer, rumors of a major troop draw down by the president in September are already circulating the internet. Too bad, those GI's who will die between now and then might have been spared instead of dying for nothing. But at least you war pundits, twisting yourselves ever deeper up president Bush's ass, won't have Cindy Sheehan around to remind you.

I find it ironic that the hungriest for war among us, our government and the media pundits, are standing outside the arena of those who have paid dearly for the price of admission to this concert, i.e., the sacrifice of a loved one that none of the sanctimonious bastards outside have made. And for that you slander Cindy Sheehan for exercising her right to speak against your fucking war?

But the most striking element in Sheehan's decision to step down wasn't prompted by Republicans and the Bush administration's media lackeys of which there are many. No, it was the new democratic congress that just renewed the funding for Bush's endless, obscene war while spinning it to us as the beginning of its end. (Thanks Nancy Pelosi.)

Or as noted by Sheehan in her official resignation letter,

"I was the darling of the so-called left as long as I limited my protests to George Bush and the Republican Party.....However, when I started to hold the Democratic Party to the same standards that I held the Republican Party, support for my cause started to erode and the 'left' started labeling me with the same slurs that the right used. I guess no one paid attention to me when I said that the issue of peace and people dying for no reason is not a matter of "right or left", but "right and wrong."

I would like to conclude with a few words to all of those who play politics with the lives of this country's future--it's youth, now spilling their blood on the sands of a nation cursed with the blessing of oil beneath those sands.

To those who spin the same shit day in, day out, that we must stay in Iraq until victory is achieved I say, We are losing. We have already lost. "Victory" as you see it is not an option.

To the tiresome spin that we must fight them there or else we will fight them here I say: Wake up you snoozing Susies!. We will fight them here...again and again. Bush's policies have only served to insure us of that.

As Sheehan was left to conclude,
"Casey died for a country which cares more about who will be the next American Idol than how many people will be killed in the next few months while Democrats and Republicans play politics with human lives."

Memorial Day, 2007

Last night I was watching the movie "Troy".

At one point in the bloody unfolding of the Trojan War, Briseis asks Achilles of all the killing, "When does it end?" to which Achilles responds, "It never ends."

Three thousand years later, the fledgling nation of America established Memorial Day to commemorate the 600,000 who died during a particularly gruesome and bloody Civil War.

Today marks the 140th observation of Memorial Day while U.S. wars continue to rage, continuously contributing to and renewing the true meaning and necessity for this day.

Last evening I received my daily e-mail from Information Clearing House with the subject line, "U.S. Marine Beheaded."

Opening this mail, there was a link purporting "to Show 2 U.S. marines Beheaded and Abused." It came with the following warning:

WARNING

These images depict the savagery and horror of war

and should only be viewed by a mature audience.

Viewing the particularly graphic imagery, I realized in posting pictures here last weekend celebrating Armed Forces Day and our nation's history of militancy, I neglected to forewarn you of the images contained therein. For that, I am sorry and regret it if I offended anyone's sensitivities.

And so, in an effort to make amends for last weekend, I'm reposting those photos here with the warning that the following images should be viewed by mature audiences only.

photos from El Paso Times

If you are not offended by these images, I am thankful. Thankful I did not offend you.

But so long as we continue to have pictures like these, we will continue to have pictures...

....like these!

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY EVERYONE!

Remembering.....

photo by Dada

Another Memorial Day and I muse at the parade of those incredibly peaceful cemetery names across the land. It's too bad in life we can't aspire to the serenity we embrace in death in places like Skyline Memorial Gardens, Forest Lawn, Oak Grove, Rose Hill, Evergreen, Memory Gardens, Pierce Brothers Cemetery.

Wait! Pierce Brothers Cemetery? Pierce Brothers always sounded more like the Flying A gas station on the corner of 10th and Main than a place of eternal slumbers. But Pierce Brothers it was in the hometown of my youth.

This weekend I recall a Memorial Day of many, many years ago where the sacred, set-aside sections of Earth of every little community and town sprout multi-colored bouquets under the stars in fields of blue amid red-white stripes atop neatly mown lawns of verdant greens. Pierce Brothers was no exception.

Being a new comer to my little town, the significance of Memorial Day was lost on me. I didn't know anyone 'neath those flowers and flags. Yet every year this happened.

Oh sure, there were the two grandmothers and grandfathers who died before I was born. I never knew any of them. And as absent as they had been in my life, they were almost equally aloof in their deaths, buried seven states and 2,000 miles away. They were nothing more to me than glistenings in Mom and Dad's eyes whenever they'd remember them.

I was a stranger to death and those who represented it to us the living were nothing more than faceless names carved into the stones they were buried beneath where those floral arrangements and little flags suddenly sprang up every Memorial Day down at old Pierce Brothers.

But to my parents the day held more meaning. And so, when my mom announced that she and dad were going to take a drive through the local cemetery to see the graves, would I "like to go along?" I declined. There was no one there I knew.

That's when inspiration hit me. Plucking a handkerchief from my bedroom dresser, I headed out to my bike, announcing I was going to go for a ride instead. I wished them a pleasant drive.

Arriving at the cemetery a few minutes before my folks, I picked out a grave near the narrow lane that wound among the eternal slumberers. Borrowing a single rose from the bouquet atop it, I began working myself into the proper mindset. Trying to evoke tears, I imagined I was standing over the grave of Gina Lollobrigida, or Sophia Loren. For more tears, I imagined both beneath me.

It wasn't long before I spotted our black and yellow '57 Ford slowly winding along the lane towards me. Never once glancing in their direction, but with hanky deployed, I dropped to my knees as I placed the lone rose atop the grave in my best display of grief for the departed, Gina and Sophia. Behind me I thought I heard my mother's voice as they passed. Through the open car window came the words, "That damn fool!"

My prank had succeeded beyond my greatest expectations. Once back home, my folks and I would laugh about it. And every Memorial Day with my folks thereafter, I would hear my mom recount that one in particular to friends and family.

And now, many years later, I am no longer a stranger to death as in my youth. Mom and Dad are no longer here. Having passed almost 20 years ago now, they slumber eternally. No, they didn't end up in the Pierce Brothers place. They went to a place called Fir Lawn.

But just like Pierce Brothers and every other cemetery in the country this weekend, the flowers and flags are in full bloom. And while Fir Lawn is four or five states and almost two thousand miles away, there occasionally occurs a Memorial Day when, amid the colors and tributes of sadness, a shadow is cast across their graves. It's the shadow of their son with hanky in hand, a rose in the other. And I swear I can hear the words of my mother once more saying, "That damn fool!"

Swimming with Sharks

Scientists confirm what only a few have dared to fear: Jesus may not return in human form!

In a mystifying event that has scientists and Christian evangelicals scrambling to explain, it appears the Second Coming of Jesus Christ may have unwittingly occurred in 2001, just eleven days before the two thousandth and first anniversary celebration of Jesus' first coming to Earth. According to the story on "Hard-boiled Dreams of the World's website:

"Three sexually immature, female hammerhead sharks were captured and put in an aquarium at Omaha’s Henry Doorly Zoo in 1998. Three years later, on December 14, 2001, one of the sharks gave birth to a pup.

"Recently, teams of scientists from Belfast, Nebraska, and Florida concluded DNA tests that failed to detect paternal DNA. These genetic tests proved the unbelievable, but obvious: the baby shark had no daddy."

While many strict New Testament adherents (and some powerful political leaders) expend much of their mortal efforts trying to ignite Armageddon, thus fulfilling biblical prophecy by triggering the Last Judgment and ending the world as we know it, most are praying this shark pup was not in fact the Second Coming of Jesus which would have signaled such end times.

That's because, tragically - before it could be removed from the tank, the baby shark was killed by a stingray.

Alien Invasion?

photo by rajman,1977, Capitola, CA, May 16, 2007, as posted on Earthfiles.com

I recently received links to the photos herein from fellow blogger, Nona, over at Fish Wars on Cars of strange things spotted in the sky over her neck of the woods lately.

photo by Chad, April 1977, as posted on Coast to Coast AM

Before we freak and seek government protection from whatever it is in our skies, relax. Frightened is exactly what the government likely wants us to be. While the strange writing under the wing doesn't appear to be Islamic in origin, it does bear resemblance to what some might imagine as "alien" or outer spacey shit. Oooh, that's almost as frightening as an Al Qaeda aircraft, right?

photo by Chad, April 1977, as posted on Coast to Coast AM

But relax. What these are, are likely examples of your tax dollars at work - drones; the latest government surveillance vehicles in their arsenal of "population maintenance" and crowd control. After all, the '08 presidential Republican and Democratic conventions are just around the corner. With polls indicating extreme public displeasure with both parties, it appears likely there will be need to conduct such traditional conventions (aka these days as "charades") beneath an umbrella of extreme security.

Enter the "alien" drones. For really unruly populations, there is probably optional accessories deployable on these such as rubber bullets, tear gases, auditory and laser beam incapacitators. For the really, really rowdy mobs, small nuclear devices will likely be an option as well.

So no need to panic should we spot one of these in the skies over our heads, for they are most likely just the latest government protection being extended to us all; coming to a neighborhood in your area soon! After all, we're way beyond "1984".

TA-DA! Here it is - Presenting the Dada designed Democratic Party's new national flag and logo.

I confess, it was going to be a surprise but I guess I can talk about it now.

See, a couple months ago, I was approached by someone who shall remain nameless. A high ranking party member contacted me with news I had been chosen to design a national flag for the democratic party. Something with a new symbol to replace the "stubbornness" of the donkey that had little basis in reality any longer.

So since that honor of my selection, I have been working diligently out in my garage almost daily trying to come up with the new design; a new logo that would accurately represent - and carry - the democratic party far into the 21st Century. Mostly I spent my days just staring at a blank piece of cotton bunting.

But it was yesterday with news of the latest war vote in congress giving Bush his funding to continue the illegal war in Iraq without conditions did it hit me: that after all these months of staring into a blank piece of white cloth, the flag was finished!

So it is with great pride that I unveil to all of America, the national Democratic Party's new symbol. While it looks great against an azure blue sky, it will also give the appearance of great democratic dignity that the party so richly deserves. At a wake. Draped over the party's coffin.

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

Note to American GI's fighting in Iraq:

Yesterday's vote in congress will assure you the funds needed to continue to fight for the incubating democracy in Iraq without fear of mission critical materiel interruptions.

For any of you now serving in Iraq with second thoughts about this war, please know the vast majority of America shares your concerns. But living in the world's greatest democracy means the majority of us don't always get what we want. That's because politics is the art of compromise.

The formulation of policy is a process of give and take. The minority party, the republicans, take, while the majority party, the democrats, give.

Yesterday's vote to continue the war you're fighting indefinitely may mean more early redeployments, extended tours for those already in Iraq, reactivation of guard and reserve units for another tour and continued stop losses, meaning a future of indefinite military voluntarism in service to a grateful nation.

But take comfort knowing, that as your representatives go on break, both parties consider yesterday's war funding vote a victory for you there, and for us here.

As republican house minority leader, John Boehner, R-Ohio, gloated afterwards, "Democrats have finally conceded defeat in their effort to include mandatory surrender dates in a funding bill for the troops, so forward progress has been made for the first time in this four-month process."

And House majority leader Nancy Pelosi also rejoiced, saying: "I think it's a giant step to begin the end of this war," which is, after all, what a majority of Americans elected the democrats to do.

So to all our fighting men and women, "Hang in there." War's end may not be in sight, but we're taking "giant steps" in that direction.

Rome wasn't built in a day any more than Iraq was destroyed in four (years). Let's continue the fight until the job's done, while we back here continue working toward getting you home. Some day...ah, maybe.

Photo of the Week

It's nice to know there exists a few places in the land still today that are off limits to president Bush. One such place is in a small artist's colony about an hour's drive north of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

What makes places like this one special, besides their rarity, is the security one feels to openly speak his or her mind among friends without constantly surveying the room for the eavesdropping president.

These few remaining spots are reminiscent of the openness as a society the United States enjoyed just before the turn of this last century.

For as we were reminded by Bush just this past Thursday in answer to a reporter's question Bush was refusing to answer, "No matter how calm it may seem in America, an enemy lurks."

That's true. And over the past six and a half years, lucid American's have come to realize exactly who that enemy is. But you shouldn't mention his name carelessly out loud in public places. Unless, of course, you're in one of those rare spots where Bush can't go.

That's why I've chosen to make the picture outside this Café where the motto is, "Be patient. We serve you in time to save you serving time!" as my Photo of the Week.

A year later and nothing's changed. (Well, that's not exactly true. They've gotten worse!)

Once in awhile, I go back in the Dada's Dally archives. Sometimes in search of something I wrote earlier I want to reread to refresh my mind. The archives attic is a place littered with all sorts of blogs. The one that follows is one I tripped over and, after reading it a year later, much of the same shit is going down.

The occasion that inspired that blog I titled, "Making a life in the shade of the wreck that is now America," was a visit to our vet with our very ill greyhound, Pony. Pony left us a few days later and now, nearly a year after her departure, I reflect on the state of the union and unlike Pony's condition, which is now better, the nation's continues to deteriorate.

So pardon my redundancy if I indulge a repeat from a year ago. I have one more I plan to also republish on these pages in a few days. It has to do with a Memorial Day from many, many years ago. But it's filled with pleasant reveries, unlike the one that follows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Making a life in the shade of the wreck that is now America

reprinted from May 2006

I'd love to take credit for the today's blog title but it's a paraphrase of Arundhati Roy's, "they fashion a childhood for themselves in the shade of the wreck that is their family." It's from her novel, "The God of Small Things."

But I couldn't help feel we're doing our best, all of us, making lives in the shade of this wreck as I glance around the veterinary clinic's waiting room. My wife remarks softly how there's nothing sadder than the sound of a sick cat. I nod. She says it so its owner can't hear her over kitty's mornful, human-like cries coming from inside a carrying cage.

Our greyhound Pony, depressingly ill for days at home, now stands as erect, alert and as far from us as the taut leash we've given her will allow. She's cured! Or so she would have us believe.

Of the four dogs we've had, Pony's the only one who loves coming to vet's. Despite knowing the pain and discomforts the vet is capable of dispensing.

It's moments like these that remind us why we picked ol Po' out of the herd the first time we saw her. Extremely amiable, aloof, quirky and very 'kick ass'. These were characteristics we detected she possessed--if she felt like it. And then there was the mysterious piece of missing ear she'd left somewhere in Arizona.

A small dog appears at the check-in counter and suddenly Pony is now a doberman. She's barking with ferocity. Back at the house, as a greyhound, Pony's a mute. She doesn't know how to bark. But here with a dog one fifth her size, Pony becomes 'kick-ass'. Moments later a tech appears and takes Po' back for X-rays.

As we wait, a young woman comes in and sits across from us. Her pup, an eager learner, already hates this place. He sits at her feet. I watch as he gets up, moves closer, and resits. He's leaning against her now. We remark something of his cuteness. She responds disinterested.

Not taking her hint, we ask what kind of dog he is. She says with less indifference he's an old English bulldog. We hate bulldogs, but without the horrific bulldog underbite, he's able to close his mouth without teeth showing. He even breathes without sounding like a dying asthmatic. His expressions are almost human. We like this little guy.

We learn he belongs to this woman's 11 year old daughter. She explains he's extra edgy, having missed his breakfast. Knowing that fasting is often a prelude to some kind of invasive procedure, we ask, and learn today he's getting fixed. I say something like, "When he awakens, he'll be missing more than his breakfast."

By now the woman has become quite affable. It seems like we've known her more than five minutes. Maybe more like ten or fifteen, when suddenly she sobers the three of us up with the news that later this summer her husband's going to Iraq. It'll be his second tour.

My wife says she is so sorry. The pretty young woman says she is too. And then she and her dog are gone, the dog to lose his testicles, the young woman to lose her husband. We hope the the latter returns.

Just another day in the shade of the wreck.

Armed Forces Day follow up plus other loose ends

I'm really glad Mrs. Dada and I didn't have children. That's because I suspect we would have been really bad parents. Photos in yesterday's and today's papers, one promoting, the other reporting on Armed Forces Day activities at the local army fort yesterday illustrated how miserable our child(ren) would have been.See, our little three year old daughter, unlike the one pictured here, would have been very unhappy--to the point of tears perhaps-- because we wouldn't hand her up to a PFC so she could ride on his M-88A1 vehicle--whatever that is.

Our daughter would only want to sit atop what is to her one of those great symbols of power. But we as her parents know M-88A1's can sometimes be like microwave ovens, burning everything inside to a crisp should an accident happen. Just like the Bradley Armored Personnel Carrier pictured below containing a helmeted four year old. And microwaving our kids to a crisp is something too painful for me or Mrs . Dada to imagine.

But that's what a lot of children did yesterday at the local fort to celebrate Armed Forces Day.

As a kid, I had the largest toy infantry unit on my block at one time. It hadn't been too long since we'd won the biggest war ever. But since that time, while we're a war mongering nation continually at war, we no longer win them. We just provoke them, then lose. Oh, there's always exceptions, but how much glory can one country take from smashing a Grenada or Panama?

But kids don't know we've a recent history of being big war losers. Military celebrations like yesterday's appeal to their immature pre-frontal lobe needs to slaughter other human beings. And that's where I would have failed as a parent where those parents of the children at yesterday's festivities succeed.

*********

In this morning's paper I was reading about the effort being expended to find the three GI's kidnapped in Iraq last week. That's where I first heard of a new weapon being used against the 4,000 US soldiers diverted from Bush's surge in the "war on terror." That's a pretty big hunk of personnel out of our total surge to find three missing GI's.

But in searching for them, soldiers scour the countryside for the missing men, doing foot patrols far off the roads. And that's where they're encountering a new weapon--buried bombs. So far only two soldiers have been known to have been killed by "dismounted improvised explosive devices."

I noticed the article was careful not to use the acronym for them: "DIED"s.

*********

Finally today was the third ciclovía this month. That's where the streets are closed to all automobile traffic and opened to pedestrians, bikes, and dogs instead. Sam and I left early to walk it. When we arrived at its starting point, I got out of the car, slammed the door shut just a nanosecond before realizing where I'd left the keys--locked in the car, with Sam. (Fortunately, Sam doesn't know how to drive--yet.)

This was the first of the ciclovía Sundays Mrs. Dada didn't accompany us. So to subconsciously prove how dependent Sam and I are on her to keep us straight, I sheepishly called her, explained, asking if she could come bail us out before the temperature in the car rose like in a microwave accident, frying everything inside to a crisp (read "Sammy").

Twenty or thirty minutes later Mrs. Dada arrived and Sammy was freed. While waiting for her, I'd ask a policeman if he had one of those gizmos to open the car doors of people who unwittingly lock their keys and dogs inside. He confessed he didn't. "That's something the fire department has," he informed.

Which finishes up my loose ends, because once rescued by Mrs. Dada and Sam and I started our walk up Scenic Drive, we were taken aback when a small four year old boy asked me after spotting Sammy (a dalmation), "Ooooh, are you a fireman?" (I explained I wasn't, "but I do have a fireman's dog I guess.")

A bit further up the road we encountered a firetruck supporting the walkers. So Sam and I went over and asked them: "Do you have one of those gadgets to open locked cars with the keys inside?"

"You mean a slim jim? Yes," one of them replied, "but we're not very proficient with 'em. We can open it quicker with an axe," as I waved goodbye to the chuckling firemen. At least Sam and I had given 'em all a good laugh.

Moments earlier they had admired Sammy and told me how good he'd look riding on top of their big fire truck, but I thanked 'em for the offer. I'd already seen enough 3 and 4 year olds in Bradley armored personnel carriers and M-88A1's (whatever those are).

*Attribute: Photos by El Paso Times

Teach your children well!

Teach Your Children Well

Teach your children well,
Their father's hell did slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you'll know by.

Don't you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.

~Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young

At the 2005 Armed Forces Day event at Fort Bliss, Bianca Parra, 11, strained to cock a 40 mm
Mark 19 grenade launcher while Spc. Keith Lewandowski of the 978th MP Company looked on.
This year's event is Saturday. (El Paso Times file photo)

Awaiting Iraq deployment, October 2006. (El Paso Times file photo)

HAPPY ARMED FORCES DAY EVERYONE!

Starting tomorrow I'll be better.

In an effort to retain my few remaining vestiges of sanity, I'm really trying to ignore the daily outrages of our government which increasingly get more and more sinister and insane. I'm going to back off a little. (Hopefully starting tomorrow, maybe.)

I'm so very thankful that I live in the U.S. If I was living somewhere in say, like, Latin America, France or one of the many socially conscious nations that still exhibit signs of brainwave activity, the streets of America would be in flames and very dangerous places to be by now.

Recent examples of news I'm going to ignore:

• Our "Big Dick" Cheney's Halliburton moving its headquarters offshore to Dubais where there exists no extradition treaty with the U.S. should future investigators want to subpoena executives of that company regarding its alleged $2.7 billion of overcharges and contractor waste. It appears Halliburton is simply practicing good business from lessons learned from president Bush's buddy, "Kenny Boy" Lay who led Enron and formulated Dick Cheney's energy policy but ended up dying (or faking his death) before beginning his jail sentence or, sadly, making it to safe haven in Dubais.
  

(Oh, and should Halliburton decide to reincorporate in Dubais instead of its current Delaware incorporation, the U.S. will lose $billions in tax revenues also.)

• Paul Wolfowitz, head of the World Bank, dictating the terms of his departure, i.e., that he did nothing wrong. (Also one of the architects of our "victory" in the Iraq War.) It's classic "fox holding the rebellious chickens at bay" as he beats his retreat for the hen house door.

• Our very own justice department under Alberto Gonzales, supreme law enforcer of the land, as illustrated in the unfolding story of the U.S. Attorney's fired, is heading up nothing but a mafia gang of thugs doing exactly what they're charged with preventing--the breaking of U.S. laws! Yet despite the latest call for his head by 56 of his former Harvard Law School classmates, Gonzales remains like a stubborn tick with his head embedded in a dog's hide.
  

• President Bush's stonewalling yesterday of NBC's Kelly O'Donnell when she asked if he "personally had sent former Chief of Staff Andrew Card and then-White House counsel Gonzales to then-Attorney General John Ashcroft's sickbed to get him to approve the wiretapping program. "
  

Bush then evoked the classic response of fear and national security by saying, "I'm not going to talk about it. No matter how calm it may seem in America, an enemy lurks."*

(Wake up America to who the real fucking "lurking enemy" Bush is referring to!)

So, between companies with perhaps something to hide fleeing overseas, faulty leadership memories like "I can't recall," or "Senator I don't remember," or Bush claiming national security or evoking an executive order to seal outright the papers of former presidents in perpetual secrecy, we have no right to know what the fuck's going on in the executive branch of our government. It appears one of the Bush legacies will be the complete collapse of historical records of exactly what the hell went on since the beginning of the new millennium.

Like I say, thank god this is America and not some rowdy Third World nation like France.

* Attribute: Dan Froomkin, Washington Post

Ciclovía!

ciclovía: "a Spanish term, meaning "cycling street," used in Latin America to mean either a permanent designated bicycle route or a temporary event closing of the street to automobiles to allow dominance by other users. Permanent designated bicycle lanes are also known as ciclo-rutas, while streets temporarily closed for that purpose are always called ciclovías." Source: Answers.com

(Dada NOTE: You may enlarge any picture by clicking on it.)


Sunday, May 6th, was El Paso's first ciclovía! Seven miles of roadways forming a continuous route were closed down to all motor vehicles from 7-11:00 a.m., leaving them the exclusive domain of walkers, joggers, bikers, strollers and dogs. Editor Sam and I decided we'd check it out and go for a little walk.

Sam wasn't sure what was up at first. But when he puts on his halter, he knows to be prepared for anything. He loves to ride in the car unless it ends up in the parking lot of some veterinary clinic. It didn't and Sam was very pleased.

It was a beautiful morning with the temperature in the 60's.As Sammy and I headed out for the carless road, you could see
Sam's excitement. Here, it manifests in the tautness of his leash!

We decided to park and walk up Scenic Drive and back. (Last Sunday
on Mother's Day, Mrs. Dada dropped Sam and I off at one end of Scenic
Drive and we walked its entire length around the base of the mountain.)

This is the top of Scenic Drive where bikers and walkers mingled
while quenching their thirsts. Free water was also available for the
animals. Sam had brought his own.

While at the top of Scenic Drive, Sam and I called Mrs. Dada down
below. Using our new Panasonic camera with a 10X zoom lens, she
took our picture. Surprisingly I showed up in it. (I drew an arrow to
show where I am. If you click on the photo, it should enlarge.)

As Sam and I sipped some water, we took a few minutes to enjoy
the view of downtown El Paso with Juarez in the background. The
mountains on the horizon are in Mexico.

Having done the hardest part first (the climb), the second half of
our Scenic Drive walk was all down hill. Towards the bottom, a
couple of 9-11 year old girls had been selling lemonade, but by the
time we passed them, they were giving it away. Everyone we encountered
was very friendly, leaving Sam and I to ponder the isolation a vehicle
places each of us inside of.

It was an exhilarating experience. The weather was perfect and the people all very pleasant. That was the reason Sam and I decided to repeat the experience last Sunday on Mother's Day.

In fact, as we were straining to reach the summit this past Sunday, a biker on his way down stopped and asked if he could pet Sam. "Sure," I said. While petting him, the man drew out his water bottle and offered Sam a drink. Sam indulged in the man's generosity.


Using the streets solely for pedestrian traffic gave us a glimpse of the future without oil. Certainly the isolation imposed by vehicles will be replaced by a greater sense of community with one's neighbors. Of course, we may have to move closer to a grocery store if we're to expend less energy than the groceries procured will provide.

When we got home, a tired but very pleased Sam could not keep his eyes open. He took a well deserved nap!

Nailing shut those coffins

Mae West said something about Joan Crawford upon hearing the news of her death. Dada'd like to paraphrase it here in light of Jerry Falwell's passing. It goes like this:

"You should never say bad things about the dead, you should only say good. Jerry Falwell is dead. Good."

***********

Jerry Falwell (after 9/11): "I really believe that the pagans and the abortionists and the feminists and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, and the ACLU and People for the American Way—all of them who have tried to secularize America—I point the finger in their face and say 'You helped this happen'."



On Tuesday several of the leading Republican presidential candidates praised Falwell. Here's senator John McCain who described him as "a man of distinguished accomplishment who devoted his life to serving his faith and country."

This should reduce McCain's presidential nomination chances*, thus making more room for the next charlatans with presidential ambitions, senator Newt Gingrich and actor Fred Thompson (who played a senator in real life, flaunts his Cuban cigars at us while telling us why we should hate Castro).

(* "should reduce" but probably won't, for this is America, land of Equal Opportunist's Employment.)

Quotes courtesy of "Democracy Now!"

Where is the love?

And if you quietly listen to yourself while hearing pleas of those who've lost loved ones in the administration's business ventures in Iraq and Afghanistan asking for a little compassion for the sacrifices their families have made...can't you just hear your imagination mouthing George "Fart Boy" Bush's empathetic reply to them?

"Pull my finger!"

Quote of the Day

Today's quote comes from Jane Smiley. It's in regards to Iraq and all the other atrocities committed by the Bush administration:

"Clearly Wolfowitz, Cheney, Perle, Rice, Hadley, Kristol, and all the other perps here are lacking in some innate human capacity of observation and understanding, though the fact that they carefully protect themselves from ever seeing what is actually going on in Iraq, in American army hospitals, or in the families of American soldiers indicates that there is, at least, some vestigial organ of fear and avoidance that is still active.

"...I would like to think that we are approaching the deepest, brittlest nubbin of the Bush/Rove conspiracy to take over the US, and that when the inner circle begins to go, there will be less of a crumpling and more of an implosion, as every man and woman saves him -- or herself -- by outing the others. Tenet has begun, but I want a cascade effect. I want an avalanche that buries every single one of these people beyond rescue and beyond redemption. No memoirs, only depositions. No retirement activities, other than mopping floors at Walter Reed. No resurrections, a la Cheney and Rumsfeld and Rove, post-Nixon. Conservatives, read my lips: you own these people. If you want anything from us for the next three generations, get rid of them now." ~Jane Smiley

Profligation of the species.

So it's mid-afternoon and I find myself in the middle of a huge "supercenter" store which I won't name but most can guess. It's that time of day where, if caught in that place, you get punished for it because the checkout lines have grown longer than the waiting list to see a Green Packer's game live.

That's when I get the bright idea to keep the number of items in my shopping cart down to only ten, affording me the quickest possible exit from the madhouse. Gently placing a bunch of bananas in my cart I head towards my last item. It's a loaf of bread. But in rechecking my number of items, I am saddened to learn a loaf of bread would be item number 11, disqualifying me from the speediest checkout. I'd have to go to the 20 items or less lines and that didn't seem expedient, what with me there with 11 items behind others with 19 and 20.

So I forgo my bread. Instead of eggs and toast tomorrow, maybe I'll have pancakes, or juevos rancheros (using tortillas).

Arriving at the ten items or less lane, there's but two people. The one being checked out and the woman immediately ahead of me. I feel good. It was worth forgoing the bread. But as I'm standing there, I noticed the pregnant lady just ahead of me has 25-30 items in her shopping basket--in the 10 items or less line!

I begin a slow burn. As I feel the bile boiling up inside, I wonder if this woman, with total disregard for her fellow man, is the result of a presidency with same. From his state and defense departments, food and drug administration, his attorney general committing felonies in the name of "justice" gives her comfort in knowing she is above "10 items or less" rule and she doesn't give a shit! It's but another manifestation of the absolute breakdown for the respect of the law and order a society needs if it is to maintain itself. A total disregard for the tenets of civilization and, in the process, a blatant contribution to its dismantling.

Fortunately that's when I noticed the other "10 items or less" checkout is just finishing up with its last customer. I am so relieved as I push my cart past the pregnant neocon Karl Rove/Alberto Gonzales worshipper in a blood pressure saving surge.

I am spared saying what I had just finished practicing for her in my mind. It's another narrow escape from losing my civility to the uncivil contributing to the breakdown of civilization. For as I pass that pregnant woman with two and a half dozen items in the "10 items or less line," I say under my breath, "Just what society needs: A woman who can't add, but it doesn't stop her from multiplying!"

Dada ponders....

why is it the sweetest irony--no, no, grossest hypocrisy--of conservatives that they banish convicted felons from the voting rolls in key election states--those who are not fit to vote for them, yet in Bush's over-extended and under equipped military, those same felons are welcomed with open arms to die for those same bastards?

I guess that's what makes being a good hypocrite such a bitch, huh?

The Prophet George Bush speaks:

Six years ago yesterday, our president spoke the following prophetic words:

"There's no question that the minute I got elected, the storm clouds on the horizon were getting nearly directly overhead."

Being blue in a red state or experiences in a peculiar Peculiar RV park. (OR, when does a tarp make you see red? Answer: When it's blue!)

Since my first encounter with Bill McDannell a couple of months ago, I like to check in on him occasionally to see how his "Walk to End the War" is progressing. Bill passed through El Paso back in January in his cross-country protest against our endless Iraq and Afghanistan wars. I had the pleasure of walking with him for a couple of miles back then.

Bill's wife, Jonna, and his two dogs accompany him in their RV support vehicle called Nessie. It's been quite an adventure thus far. Leaving their home in San Diego the end of last year, they now find themselves in Missouri. And after reading the latest entry in Bill's journal, I can honestly say he had the strangest encounter of his long walk to date. And of all places, it happened in Peculiar, Missouri!

You see, Bill's found nothing but supportive folks all along his trek - even in such strange places like Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas. But the really weirdest thing to happen occurred yesterday in Peculiar. (See Bill's journal entry of May 10th.)

Having walked through four red states and found nothing but supportive folks against the war, Bill let his guard down. He made a mistake in Missouri when, to protect themselves from moisture laden skies, Bill put a blue tarp atop his camper. And in Peculiar at the Peculiar Park Place RV Park, in the red state of Missouri, that's an open invitation to get banished by the owner.

After walking his dogs early in the morning as Bill tells it, "I was returning to the camper when a white haired man...stopped and asked if I had the camper located in space 29. I told him that yes, that was mine. He informed me that I'd have to take the tarp off of Nessie if I was going to remain in the park. 'I can't have any blue tarps in my park.'"

As he was checking out of the Peculiar RV park, Bill related his cross-country experiences to the attendant up to this Peculiar point; how they had all been positive and supportive. But this weird Peculiar one was noteworthy and wanted them to know he would be noting it.

After reading of Bill's encounter, I looked over some reviews of that Peculiar place. One in particular stood out. It was written by a couple who had made reservations four months in advance to stay there.

"We had reservations and had checked several times to see if they still had our reservations. We had driven all day from Western Kansas. We were very tired. We found they had sold our site for more money. The owner of park was very rude. He told us we could stay there and pay $27 for no hook up or sewer or anything.

"We have never been treated so badly in our entire life traveling. No apologies or anything from the owner. He said very smart mouthed for us to have a safe trip. And then sneered and laughed at us."

Those folks drove 45 miles further to a nice RV park where they had stayed before.

I don't know if the owner had really sold their reserved space to someone else or if maybe he caught a glimpse of a blue tarp they had along with them. Or maybe it was a bumper sticker they were sporting that tipped the owner off and triggered his vile side to rear its ugly head.

Perhaps those of you familiar with the Seinfeld series remember "The Soup Nazi" who served up a great soup but would deny it to anyone he discerned as challenging him. Well, in Peculiar, MO they have their own version of the Soup Nazi. Only he's an RV Camp owner Nazi.

So if you ever end up in Peculiar in a camper or pulling a trailer, be sure to cover those objectional pro-peace, anti-Bush bumper stickers on the ass end of your vehicle. And for God's sake, don't ever show your blue tarp! That's because in Peculiar, Missouri, blue tarps make peculiar people see red!

Broken nation, shattered lives

What follows is the edited version of a mother's letter to her congressman, which can be read in its entirety here. Besides the thousands of lives that have been lost, there are thousands upon thousands of lives destroyed that must now attempt reconstruction.

****

"I am the proud mother of a United States Marine. He served two
tours in Iraq and is now facing a possible third deployment. ...
During my son’s 2nd deployment, he thought they were taking out
advancing Iraqi forces but instead killed thousands of innocent Iraqi
women and children.

"When he returned, he was often placed on Military Police duty, which
meant he had a loaded side arm with him during the long nights. He
would call me and tell me he had the gun in his mouth and needed to
pull the trigger.

"He couldn’t live with all the innocent women and children he had killed.
He didn’t deserve to have a mother and sister. I would notify his com-
manding officers of the incident and was told unless he reported it (Dada
note: "or pulled the trigger?") there was nothing to be done.

"Since that time he has sought treatment through the VA system.
We would receive letters over and over again not to contact them,
they were sorry for the delays, but lack of funding combined with the
overwhelming incoming claims left them unable to assist us in a
timely matter. When they were able to process his claim, they would
contact him.

"The severe depression combined with the PTSD progressively got
worse. My 2005 Christmas was spent on the phone with the
highway patrol who had found my car driven off an embankment and
crashed beyond recognition. God protected my son that day.

"The VA provided a consoler who told him ten minutes into his first
visit he had “childhood issues” and it was not related to combat. "

****

The inadequate care being given returning soldiers by a "grateful" government is just another blatant example of how we as citizens are "taken care of" by Washington.

The two trillion dollars (or more) this little Iraq excursion will end up costing us so George Bush could be a "war president" (war, something he had no stomach for when he, himself, wore a uniform and Cheney was getting draft deferments) offer no return on a very, very bad investment.

Two trillion dollars spent on R&D and investment in alternative energy resources could have made the United States energy independent and an exporter of energy.

But the lust for dominance in the the hands of sociopaths manifests itself in lost and broken American lives, millions of dead or miserable or displaced Iraqis and an United States about as financially bankrupt as it is morally.

WTF?

Just curious if anyone else out there is like me? I'm referring to "Gliese 581 C," a newly discovered planet 20.5 light years from Earth that scientists are excitedly claiming may be able to support life like ours because it might contain water.

So here we are, spending untold energy and monies to find someplace "out there" that might be able to support life as we know it "down here." But why? We don't invest the time and effort to support our own life systems here on Earth?

Why all the effort? Why all the excitement at this latest discovery of finding someplace we'll probably never be able to visit but, if we could, we'd probably go there and-- just like here-- fuck it up!

Something new to remove those embarrassing warts.

Ugly White House warts are gone in no time!

Let's face it. Are you tired of feeling uncomfortable or embarrassed like millions of Americans today because of the unsightly wart on your nose, chin, hands, back or ass? Are you treated like a leper, or reluctant to be seen in public, especially overseas, with that wart causing foreigners to look upon you with disdain? All because that nasty growth is the instant tip off you are an ugly American?

Perhaps you have tried other treatments like those weak and ineffective remedies "The House" or "The Senate," only to be left with the same ugly warts to embarrass you day in, day out?

Then it's time you tried the one effective treatment against embarrassing warts. The one that works where others won't.

Simply cover the entire wart. Normally, one application is all that is necessary. However, for the more persistent and prevalent White House strain, several applications may be necessary before those unsightly growths leave. Just be persistent and sure to apply until all warts are gone!

They will disappear. Guaranteed!

(Coming soon from Dada Labs: A new line of ointment preparations for the relief of itching, burning, and painful discomforts caused not by those warts, but by yet another major White House annoyance!)

It's a great plate, but someone can't take what it's dishin' out.

(Photo by Steve McEnroe, Rapid City Journal photographer)

Thanks to Heather Moriah for providing today's chuckle. It comes from the state of South Dakota.

This is a picture of Heather with her personalized license plate, "MPEACHW". (Note it is on the back of her Prius....I think I'm really appreciating Heather Moriah now.)

Anyway, from the "J-Walk Blog" ("of stuff that may or may not interest you") comes the following:

Heather Moriah loves the personalized license plates on her silver Prius encouraging the impeachment of President George W. Bush.

But somebody doesn't agree. And that somebody complained to the state. Now, the South Dakota Division of Motor Vehicles is trying to recall the plates -- which read MPEACHW. And if Moriah doesn't turn them in voluntarily, the state might send law-enforcement officers to pick them up.

Some of the comments on that blog regarding Moriah's predicament that I thought were similarly amusing:

Remember, folks. Your license plate has to be okayed by literally every person in the world, since it only takes one complaint to make you lose it. ~Dave

This is South Dakota. I don't remember its exact population, but I think its something like 5. So, just to get along, everyone has to approve everyone else's license plate. ~WTF

What if the plate read CROWNGW? How many complaints would have been issued? ~Wendy

Gee whiz, she doesn't look like a single mother of six kids on welfare or a hippie or an immigrant or any of those other stereotypes that are supposed to represent the liberal left-winger; wonder how that can be? ~Mary

You can tell she's a liberal because she's driving a hybrid Prius. ~Mary

(NOTE: Sadly the comments shadowed CNN's Headline News anchor doing this story, degrading into an inevitable assault on Heather Moriah's politics because of her license plate and choice of automobiles. Others chose to attack Heather's appearance by implying she's masculine, thus explaining her provocation because she's likely a lesbian.)

Update: While South Dakota is reconsidering their decision, Heather plans to relocate to Pennsylvania soon, hence, "South Dakota can have their flippin' plates back." (Not her exact words, those were Dada's.) But she did say she would have fought this were she staying in state. Heather also said she will also consider a similar plate in Pennsylvania which, I suppose, shows her for the trouble maker she really is.

I could have killed that son of a bitch!

photo by Dada

This is the El Paso County Courthouse--one of the two courthouses between which El Paso Border Peace Presence's weekly anti-war vigil takes place each Friday at noon. The other is the U.S. Federal Courthouse directly across the street from this one, and that's the one that was the scene of yesterday's pretrial hearings for anti-Castro terrorist Luis Posada Carriles, bomber of Cuban hotels and alleged mastermind of the 1976 bombing of a Cuban airliner which killed 73 people.

Nearly two years ago I stood staring at the pictures of six young women and six young men, all members of the 1976 Cuban National Women's and Men's Fencing Teams who were aboard that airplane. Pictures of those twelve, all on the doorsteps of their prime, were outside the local Border Patrol Headquarters as part of a display by protestor's there that day . But those young people, all victims of that terrorism are dead now. They have been for over 30 years. And it all happened so sudden and unexpectedly when their plane was blown from the the sky.

While looking over the display of the victims of that ill-fated flight back then, I spoke with Roseanne Nenninger and Sharon Persaud, sisters who had both come long distances to witness the hearing of the man allegedly responsible. Each had a deep, personal interest in Luis Posada Carriles, center of that day's hearing. That's because their young brother who was on his way to medical school in Cuba that day and was also on that flight.

I blogged about the George Bush conundrum, "If you harbor a terrorist, you are a terrorist" back then. But the hearing on Luis Posada Carriles wasn't about his involvement in blowing 73 innocent people out of the sky or our nation's harboring him from Cuban and Venezuelan justice for his terrorist activities. It was about whether Carriles was in this country legally or not. Yesterday's pretrial hearing was a continuation of that process.

But that's where yesterday's experience gets interesting. That's because, as the noon peace demonstration was winding down and we turned to head off to lunch, we were confronted with a small group of "suits" approaching which I came to realize were Luis Posada Carriles' legal team with a couple of U.S. Marshals mixed in for Carriles' security perhaps.

As I stepped aside to allow this group to pass, I realized the *star* among them was this fragile, white haired 79 year old terrorist returning from lunch. And being as we were on a narrow sidewalk as they passed, I literally brushed shoulders with Carriles. Seriously, we bumped into each other and I immediately realized, had I been a person of his ilk, I could at that moment, then and there, have killed that son of a bitch!

But I'm not, but if I were at least he would have departed this existence with a full meal and a full life. And that's something he deprived many, many others from in their sudden, premature departures from this Earthly plane.

Stephanie "Mama" Miller

Being a huge fan of Stephanie Miller and her daily radio show, which doesn't air here locally so I never hear it unless I stream it, you can imagine how upset I was to learn Miller had a three day stint on TV this past week on MSNBC in the old Don Imus time slot!

Fortunately for me and other Miller fans who missed her TV debut on that network, there is YouTube where we can catch some of what we missed. After viewing several of those, I took the time to write the following letter to MSNBC:

Dear MSNBC,

Thank you for giving Stephanie Miller a shot on TV this past week. But - please(!) - don't do it again.

You see, I plan to eventually marry "Mama" and this additional exposure--while

well deserved by Stephanie--has greatly increased competition for her hand

I'm afraid.

Example? Just look how "Ga-ga" she got that her set was right next
to Keith Olberman's. (That was the most painful segment to watch.)

Thank you.

Sadly yours,

Dada

p.s. My wife also is a huge fan of Steph's!

Antisocial Personality Disorder

"There is a pervasive pattern of disregard for and violation of the rights of others: 1) failure to conform to social norms with respect to lawful behaviors as indicated by repeatedly performing acts that are grounds for arrest; 2) deceitfulness, as indicated by repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for personal profit or pleasure; ... 5) reckless disregard for safety of self or others; 7) ... lack of remorse by being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated or stolen from others." ~ Diagnostic and Statistical Manual Fourth Edition

A True Story

Some years ago, I had a confrontation with a bad-ass neighborhood dog. And while my recall of that incident as metaphor may be analogically imprecise, our encounter that day seems nonetheless worthy of mention.

See, across the street from my house and about two houses into the next block, there lived one mean son of a bitch dog. Most people in the neighborhood knew of the dog but, being contained within his own backyard, nobody paid him much attention. But then one day that dynamic changed.

While in my front yard, I suddenly got the sense I was being watched. Turning, I noticed just 50-60 feet away stood that mean son of a bitch dog eyeing me. As our stares collided just above the middle of the street between us, I sensed a momentary chill on the back of my neck.

What I did next surprised even me. Years of watching nature documentaries found me puffing up to present a more ominous stature to my challenger. I began slowly advancing on the angry dog raising my arms in a threatening gesture, demanding he "Go home!" For the fist couple of seconds, the dog just stood there, staring. My threats weren't working. I sensed the dog was considering his response options.

And for those first few seconds, I was getting increasingly more nervous he wasn't going to buy into my threat. That's why, when he suddenly turned and decided upon a reluctant retreat, my confidence soared. I backed that son of a bitch to his house and up into his yard. It felt good. I'd let him know people in the neighborhood wouldn't tolerate his bad-assed bullying and intimidations. My mission had been accomplished.

But as I turned to go home, my adversary's confidence experienced a sudden resurgence. He became the challenger and I was now the one in retreat! Our roles had been now reversed. That mean son of a bitch had called my bluff.

I don't know if he was bluffing me or not but, if so, his bluff trumped mine. Slowly shrinking from the advancing dog, it was my hope none of the neighbors were watching my unfolding drama with the one who had suddenly become "nice doggy, nice" and I timidly returned home. The end.

***********

I recalled that story again last night while watching a defiant president Bush explaining why he vetoed the Iraq war funding bill. It's not just that his logic is so fucked up, it's that the media analyzes his reasoning as though it's credible! And in so doing, they validate George Bush's Antisocial Personality Disorder as a "normal" and acceptable pathology for a leader of the Free World (with nuclear weapons).

And so last Saturday, I joined a small group of advocates downtown calling for impeachment of this administration. It ain't gonna happen, yet I admire them for trying. Bush knows it ain't gonna happen. That's because he knows congress won't and couldn't impeach if they wanted to because they don't have the votes. Just like they haven't the votes to override his Iraq funding veto.

Hence, the standoff continues in what seemingly would appear a game of bluffs. In the meantime, our sons, daughters, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, loved ones and friends are being slaughtered on the sands of Iraq. And if we follow Bush's logic, they'll continue to do so forever or until some fantasy cessation of the violence against our being there ends, whichever comes first. But in that, no one is bluffing. The blood of the people dying for Bush's twisted logic is real.

Like the neighborhood mad dog son of a bitch, we've settled on a tenuous standoff. As long as Bush doesn't come in my yard--OK. As long as he doesn't impact me and mine (well, not too much anyway)--OK.

And bluffing or not, Bush says to us, "Nan-nan-na-nan-nah, you can't stop me." He's right. So tonight, look for more media analyses, more validation. And tomorrow night, too, and all the nights after that for the next 628 days.

No Sign of Castro on Cuban Holiday

Another May Day saw thousands of Cubans gathering in Havana's Revolution Square to catch a glimpse of their leader, Fidel Castro.

But when he failed to appear, the festive mood soon dissipated and the throngs dwindled. As the celebration waned and moods became somber, people returned to their homes in quiet resignation.

Cubans, failing to catch a glimpse of Punxsutawney Fidel, are now expecting their island nation to experience another six weeks of Spring.