I missed this last week, since I was working my job job, but Baldilocks saved the day with a link.

Remember that incident wherein a Chinese newspaper used The Onion as a source for a story about American legislators insisting that a new Capitol building be built—or they were going to leave Washington, D.C.? Funny, that. But who expects the Chinese to "get" American humor, right? It's a different culture, and we must make allowances.

Salon just did the same thing. In a story Mark Follman wrote about credentialed bloggers covering the RNC, he cherry-picked a few "frivolous"-sounding quotes from a handful of RNC bloggers, and discussed Protein Wisdom's tidbits about the party surrounding the convention. The problem, of course, is that Jeff Goldstein of Protein Wisdom was home in Colorado, and his articles about such things as literal pissing contests, dwarf-tossing competitions, getting drunk with Ann Coulter, and Michael Moore eating an entire elk were actually, um, a joke. In other words, the Bush twins weren't really taking part in a dwarf-tossing event. Fancy that. And Coulter didn't really write "Joos for Bush" on Jeff's forehead with a lipstick.

The beautiful part is this: after Jeff blogged about Follman's colossal stupidity (my words, not his), Follman actually showed up in the Protein Wisdom comments section to claim that he was in on the joke all along, and was just "playing along" in order to make an obscure point about other bloggers at the RNC. Uh-huh.

The Captain has a nice takedown of Follman's article in which the Goldstein gaffe is mentioned in passing; it's clear that mainstream journalists (besides being sloppy and literal-minded) can't understand that blogging is a different medium entirely than what they're used to.

One of the Captain's commenters, Kris, offers this small glossary:

A 'Lapham' is time-travel journalism, so it doesn't really fit. Perhaps 'Follman' could be coined to mean something else.

Reporting on something without being there? No, wait, that's a 'Blair.'

Falling for a farce or hoax, and then when called on it, pretending you were 'in on the joke' the whole time?

Bingo!

And, of course, there's the original Alex Beam hatchet piece to consider. It's a scary time for Old Media. They are losing readers and viewers by the minute.

And I wonder why.

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I'm halfway through my silly non-blogging story, if you count the sidebar, which is all done (unless I think of some more pseudo-witty "tips" to add). I'm perhaps a third of the way through the main text.

I'm trying to remember that they want this light, rather than serious and meditative. They say "funny," but mostly people who claim that only want mildly amusing anecdotes, rather than laugh-out-loud material. If it's the latter they're after, they've got the wrong member of this family on the job.

I did ask my husband if maybe I should just write it, and he should "edit" it after I was done. You know: funny it up. I got a look. All right, all right.

One thing that's easy about working in MS Word is this: to make a word italic, all I have to do is highlight it and hit the "italics" button. Look, Ma!—no html!

My mother suggested that I pretend I'm writing one of those chirpy little holiday letters I send around—60s hausfrau that I am—every Christmas.

And it seems to be working. But ye gads! real writing is hard. I'm a bear of very low attention span.

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The acerbic Texan is back. What's he doing, when he's not linking me? Grouching around beautifully and holding the line against linguistic corruption:

I write a lot on Command Post: Global War On Terror. Every now and then, a category pops up that I will crush like a whack-a-mole.

Someone changed "Palestinians" to "Palestine" yesterday. Nope. Not on my watch. Changed it back. When you can show me Al-Qaidaville on the map, then I'll believe that there's a Palestine. And Oz. And Mordor. And that Perfect place that seems to be full of Wallgreens.

Every now and then, a Lebanon appears. Sorry. No such thing as Lebanon anymore. Lebanon is a fully-annexed property of Syria. They're Syria's bitch. Merged it back. Sorry, Klinger. You'll have to settle for Toledo.

It's hard to argue, actually. But one of Laurence's own readers, Mark L., weighs in with this little datum:

Of course there is a Palestine. It is right here in Texas -- county seat of Anderson County. About 170 miles north-northeast of where you live, Laurence.

Best way to get there from where you live is up I-46 to SH-19 at Huntsville. Then up 19 to Palestine. When you hit Loop 256 take a right. Then go east on US84 a few miles to reach the Texas State Railroad, where you can catch a ride on a train pulled by a gen-u-ine steam locomotive.

When I lived there, half the time mail from the UK would end up getting routed through the PA first. Made for some interesting postmarks.

Of course if you get pulled over by a cop for speeding in Palestine, best tell him that you are in Pal-es-TEEN, rather than Pal-es-TINE. He might figgure you for a local and just give you a warning. Otherwise you'll give yourself away as an outsider.

I want to go back to Texas someday; I haven't seen nearly enough of it. Really—just the panhandle. And there's a lot of it to see.

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WARNING: Click the link below with caution. Per Susie, it may send you to pop-up heck.

I've got a deadline coming up, so anyone who wants to should feel free to jump in here and dissect this.

The gist is that a lot of Republicans simply take for granted the legislative gains that were (supposedly) won by liberal activists and agitators. Some of it's "fish in a barrel" stuff, but there are a few points here that will require a little digging. E-mail me or leave comments if you have special sources or insight.

One of the obvious spinoff topics for discussion: how should a good libertarian feel about unions specifically and collective bargaining in general?

I'm hoping to send it back to the friend who forwarded it at the end of the week—Friday or Saturday very latest. And, of course, I'll link those who helped, both in my missive and here around the ol' blog.

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has a thing or two to say about dirty campaigning—and how both sides have been doing it for decades.

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Yesterday I was so bitchy with my husband that I actually looked at the calendar to see if there was a chemical reason for my hyper-sensitivity on whatever it was that I was sure I was right about.

We Had Words over dinner, and then he finished his work and went off to bed. He's got wall-to-wall deadlines right now, and I'm still waxing dramatic about my interior landscape. I'm not altogether clear on why this man lives with me; it could be that I get 99.9% of his jokes.

Late last night, just as it looked like I might be able to get to sleep, I spilled tonic water on my laptop. At first it appeared that I might have sopped it up in time, and I went about my business—until the keys stopped working. Then I heard a hissing sound.

So today, after church and a quick squabble with my long-suffering spouse, I had to tell him that I suspected I'd hopelessly screwed up my hard drive.

"Well," he replied, "we've been talking about the fact that we need new computers anyway. I guess we'll just get yours sooner. But check and see if we can get a discount for buying two at once."

My marriage is full of these moments, wherein I'm positive I'm right about some small thing and have trouble letting it go. Then my husband commits some extreme act of generosity or love, and I feel like a complete asshole. And of course that isn't the way to look at things either: It's a fatal mistake not to recognize that I bring real assets to this partnership.* But finding the middle ground between extreme egotism on the one hand and a complete lack of assertiveness on the other is an awful lot harder than it looks. It's harder than it should be. (Things should be easy, right? I was born in 1962: does that explain anything?)

I'm a very lucky woman, and it's difficult to remember that fact, particularly through the vaguely depressed fog that goes along with long-term, severe underemployment.

All I can say is, I'm glad I made hamburgers last night (the husband's a fan of All Things Beef). I'm glad I brought breakfast on a tray down to the Attila-Hub's office yesterday (where I'm now typing away on his old desktop machine, as he writes on his laptop). I'm glad I've figured out how to meet my deadlines this week without consistent computer access, or the ability to refer to my files. Glad we have a backup computer, along with all the other material blessings that turn invisible when I start wringing my hands over perceived shortfalls.

The economy is moving up and moving along. So am I. And my little friends at Apple think they can save the data from my old hard drive, though the logic board is toast and the entire machine "not worth fixing." I'll know in a week, and by then I'll have the new computer.

P.S. So what say you guys: should I go for the 15-inch-display laptop, or try to save a few bucks and make it a 12-inch-display model? The smaller one might be more portable.

I'm trying to remember that this will end up being a Good Thing: the old PowerMac was five years old, after all. We needed to do this within 6-12 months, in any event.

* M. Mahatma: Insert joke here? I brought a cooler into this relationship, after all.

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1 Go for the 12 inch, not for the money but for the size. People are always commenting on the size of mine. This is so small it fits sideways in most bags. I don't like the feel of the 12 inch PB vs. the iBook, I really liked the plastic better than this frictionless metal. But the PB has more power and a feature or two the the iBook doesn't, my mind is blank but I was just comparing a few weeks ago. If you're a student you can save bucks on buying an iPod at the same time Gary

Posted by: Gary LaPointe at September 05, 2004 10:59 PM (cO84S)

2 Thank-Q! I'll look into the iBook, then: interesting point about the pastic. My old PowerBook was a bitchin' machine—gorgeous matte black—but it was heavy. And bulkier than most laptops—absolutely a bear to lug around, particularly on airplane trips.

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 05, 2004 11:05 PM (SuJa4)

3 "...absolutely a bear to lug around..." Then you definitely want the twelve-incher. The two larger ones are just overpriced desktops that fold up to keep dust out of the keyboard when not in use. Have you ever seen anyone try to use the seventeen-inch one on a plane? I have. It isn't pretty. Spend the money difference on a bigger hard drive, if it's an available option, and buy a monitor for use at home. Regards, Ric Locke

Posted by: Ric Locke at September 06, 2004 02:18 PM (4a0NX)

4 Actually, I may spend it on memory. That's one of my pet peeves about Apple: very often, their machines are low on memory, and one has to buy extra two months after bringing 'em home. Which is annoying, considering one is paying a premium in the first place.

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 06, 2004 02:40 PM (SuJa4)

5 C'mon, when have I ever disparaged your assets? It's your politics that I disagree with... Regarding new computer, get the biggest, most souped-up SOB machine that Apple puts out, because you'll have peace of mind that you're not hopelessly obsolete for about a month. If you can't afford it ask your Bushie Bloggers for a handout, or petition Bush for another tax cut.

Posted by: littlemrmahatma at September 07, 2004 08:07 AM (BZ0tI)

6 Never. You never have. I just figured "I bring real assets to this partnership" could be a setup, and you might be tempted to say something about my . . . ice chest. I think I'm hoping to pay for the new machine with BlogAds revenue. Possible flaw in this plan: it might take ten years I bought you something for your birthday, BTW. But since I couldn't make an "early"' call (10:30 in Santa Clarita is early for me), I have to figure out how to get it to you. Maybe you should have a party soon, and then I could bring it!

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 07, 2004 01:25 PM (SuJa4)

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since I've taken a stupid web quiz. So here goes:

You are The Cap'n!

Some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some slit the throats of any man that stands between them and the mantle of power. You never met a man you couldn't eviscerate. Not that mindless violence is the only avenue open to you - but why take an avenue when you have complete freeway access? You are the definitive Man of Action. You are James Bond in a blousy shirt and drawstring-fly pants. Your swash was buckled long ago and you have never been so sure of anything in your life as in your ability to bend everyone to your will. You will call anyone out and cut off their head if they show any sign of taking you on or backing down. You cannot be saddled with tedious underlings, but if one of your lieutenants shows an overly developed sense of ambition he may find more suitable accommodations in Davy Jones' locker. That is, of course, IF you notice him. You tend to be self absorbed - a weakness that may keep you from seeing enemies where they are and imagining them where they are not.

Via The Pirate's Blog.

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Athena is known as the goddess of war, practical reason, wisdom, and handicraft. She was also known as the protectress of the city of Athens.

I continue to be thankful that on that memorable occasion when Ilkya linked me, I was not the subject of her fisking (rather, someone whose honor she was, in a sense, defending). Because when she works, she sometimes does it slowly, dissecting in a leisurely fashion like a serial killer whose victim is still alive as she cuts away at the organs.

Until she finally gets out the big knife and sticks it into his heart—and he gives up the ghost.

Naturally, I'm happy that she employs her surgical precision for the cause of Truth.

The woman can write. Take the time and read it. And remember not to get on her bad side.

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I've been wondering how to tell Kay's story. I'll start with her decision to stay put in her house in Wilton Manors, north of Ft. Lauderdale. There really weren't many places for them to go: shelters wouldn't work because she has severe allergies (no—I mean severe), and they can't necessarily get out of Frances' path, since that path appears to potentially encompass all of Florida, along with parts of Georgia and the Carolinas.

On Wednesday night we were really starting to worry: Frances was being trumpeted as a Category 4 hurricane, and she was going to be everywhere. When I got home from T'ai Chi class my husband was glued to the Weather Channel. I watched, horrified, as the satellite images showed Frances to be twice the size of Charley.

"Call Kay," I told the Attila-Hub. But I e-mailed her that night as well. He and she spoke the next day.

On Thursday word came—and an e-mail confirmed—that Kay and her erstwhile business partner were going to remain in her house. She reasoned that it wasn't too close to the beach, and had been built in the 1950s, when codes were strict. The roof was bolted on. They were springing into action, though, and boarding up all the windows, securing anything loose, and preparing for an indefinite period of time without power. The have a generator, but got batteries anyway: there was every chance they might lose the car.

As their efforts slowed down, we heard that Frances might be a Category 3 after all. On Friday the news was a sense of anticlimax in Florida: the authorities were having trouble keeping people in shelters for a storm that was supposed to land that day, but hadn't yet. Kay sent us more mail: "hurry up and wait" was the slogan.

She wanted us to help with a message for Frances. Kay's good with details like that. "Give a directional for the storm," I suggested. "Like:

Florida

250 miles

=>

Maybe you can fake her out."

So they did that. And then there was more waiting. Kay used the remaining power to bake bread. She fretted about the lumber at a nearby construction site, wherein the owners refused to sell boards to locals. It's apparently just sitting there under a carport-style roof—no walls at all—with nothing much to keep the wind from throwing it into the air. A huge pile of missiles. I hope the company gets the pants sued off it from the damage caused by this stuff, 'cause they had a chance to fix the problem.

More family arrived, and people got snippy for a while as they ran out of things to do. I think that happens. In a weird way I almost envy the Floridians, since they get some warning about natural disasters (our worst disasters here are earthquakes, and they just hit when it suits them). But the waiting game doesn't sound like much fun at all.

They are still waiting as I write this. There's still power there: I got a note just an hour ago.

It'll hit during the day on Saturday. Frances is now officially a Category 2 hurricane.

Mother Nature knows all: the storms that aren't supposed to be all that bad turn out awful. The ones that are supposed to swallow the state whole . . . don't (we hope). She gets the last word.

Please keep Florida in your thoughts and prayers.

UPDATE: Kay's mother just sent a note to everyone on her mailing list ("reply all" can be a beautiful thing). The house held up fine, and so did the spirits of hosts and houseguests alike. The generator is working, so they have power for the fridge—but little else. Apparently, it's turning into quite a fine little camping trip. Naturally, I'll hope to know more when Kay herself gets consistent phone access, or goes online.

Thanks for the good thoughts and positive energy.

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. . . lives up to her name.

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Scanman reports from Black Rock Desert:

The weather is cooling down somewhat, and the wind
report for the burn tomorrow is promising. Rumor has
it from the rangers that the pyrotechnic guys have
installed a platform of magnesium under the Man,
which should generate quite the fireball!

We relaxed the early part of the evening and watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail and an episode of Firefly on DVD. We're such bums.

Met a 16-year old hacker today. He creates websites for people and installed an ftp server on his Windoze laptop pretty damned fast for transferring photos over the local wireless network.

Scanman is on the left. He and his father were the first Republican acid heads I ever met. At the time, the existence of such people blew my mind—but I was narrow in my youth. I'm making up for that now. Of course, Scanman eventually left the party, but nobody's perfect. He's still an arch-capitalist.

I'll bet it's quite the phenomenon. Me, I'd go just to see people play with fire on that kind of scale. You can take that any way you want.

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What does everyone think of my spiffy new digs?

Posted by: Attila at 12:42 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
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1 Wow - love the new design! I may have to pry open my wallet for something this fabulous myself!

Posted by: Alisha at September 03, 2004 02:06 PM (GeJ1z)

2 Impressive.

Posted by: The Pirate at September 03, 2004 03:09 PM (0ZKi5)

3 Thanks. It was on sale. (Literally: the "Summer Skin Special" at Moxie Blog. I had to pay up front and then wait in line for a couple of weeks. Julie was my designer, and she did a wonderful job.)

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 03, 2004 03:49 PM (SuJa4)

4 This is beautiful. Julie did a wonderful job. And just FYI, it's not always a couple weeks, but it does take a little time to create custom designs as opposed to an out-of-the-box template.

Posted by: Joelle at September 03, 2004 04:25 PM (a/7CQ)

5 Very Nice.

Posted by: Stephen Macklin at September 03, 2004 04:45 PM (U3CvV)

6 I hope that didn't sound critical! I meant to refer to how in-demand you ladies are—and what a sweet deal I was getting.

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 03, 2004 06:05 PM (SuJa4)

7 Outstanding.

Posted by: Christopher Cross at September 03, 2004 09:12 PM (rMoMj)

8 Awesome design. I think Moxie gives the conservatives to Julie (just kidding). She did mine and did an equally great design. Glad to find you, keep up the great blog.

Posted by: Don at September 03, 2004 11:04 PM (pjexc)

9 I picked her solely on the basis of her designs: I pored over the Moxie site, picking out my favorites and figuring out whose use of color I liked best. I'm a sort of color junkie.

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 04, 2004 01:00 AM (SuJa4)

10 cool!

Posted by: Desert Cat at September 04, 2004 09:30 AM (c8BHE)

11 I should add that I love the graphic in the upper left. I know it's not quite you, but dang, it's compelling!

Posted by: Desert Cat at September 04, 2004 09:32 PM (c8BHE)

12 It was one of the more tame ones from Rion Vernon (his "Toon Pinups" series). My first choice yielded a really nice design that my husband vetoed, since the skirt was too short on the Toon Girl. I thought he was probably right (stalker insurance and all that) but it did make me wistful.

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 04, 2004 11:21 PM (SuJa4)

13 I see we've both spruced up our MuNuvian digs a little . Gorgeous stuff from Julie as usual

Posted by: goldie at September 06, 2004 08:41 PM (QjWqo)

14 Oh, no! I was just making sure that people knew that sometimes it takes a little bit, but I'm happy you did. Julie does beautiful work.

Posted by: Joelle at September 09, 2004 06:52 PM (a/7CQ)

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—Bush in particular—keep their mouths shut and the spotlight away from them during the Democratic convention?

That's classy. Too bad Kerry can't bring himself to do that.

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Esmay points out that there are only 13 16 days left until International Talk Like a Pirate Day!

Ay, Maties; it's time to brush up on your pirate-talkin' skills, lest ye sound like a lubber and some bilge rat take your grog away. Smartly!

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1 Oh don't go to The Pirates Blog for that info . Don't Forget Buccaneer Days @ Two Harbors, Oct 2nd.

Posted by: The Pirate at September 03, 2004 07:58 AM (0ZKi5)

2 16 days--it's on Sept. 19th. Can't wait! =)

Posted by: Jeff Doolittle at September 03, 2004 09:53 AM (56RPM)

3 Oops. Arithmetic speedbump. I'll fix it. And I'll go to the Pirate's blog from now on; better to keep things in the family, huh?

Posted by: Attila Girl at September 03, 2004 12:27 PM (SuJa4)

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. . . decided to accept the nomination.

He did a very nice job. He really exceeded expectations with this address.

I didn't happen to mind all the liberal proposals in his domestic policy, because I have such a soft spot in my heart for all that is do-goodism, but it led me to reflect, once more, on how odd it is that Bush is so frequently described as a conservative, or as a conservative extremist. Reagan was a conservative. Bush is just right of center.

It's also worth noting that he's now the master of that infamous smirk, and it doesn't just flash across his face at inappropriate times. Now, when he's delighted with something his eyes light up, and his smiles have extra dimensions to them. I also think he was very effective when he seemed to be on the edge of tears—and that was so much more genuine than the old Clinton-biting-his-lip routine that we've all seen a dozen times or more.

The speech was beautifully written, and stirringly delivered. I simply can't imagine it being any better than it was. Even the protesters were terrific: nice to see the President have to work to keep his thread going. (And, as the husband points out, he may well have had to do this wearing a Kevlar vest, if our buddies in the Secret Service had their way.) And the Secret Service men were wearing baseball hats with their nondescript suits! Because they were in disguise, doncha know.

And the Texas delegates were sooooo cute in their matching outfits with the Lone Star on the breast, waving their ten gallon hats in the air. I swooned.

G.W. can phone in the rest of the campaign if he likes. Tonight he made his case to Middle America ("to the Reagan Democrats," as Rush suggested this morning), and he did it very well.

Sleep well, George. Thanks for making the world a safer place.

UPDATE: Steven Taylor live-blogged it. I was tempted, but had left the laptop upstairs.

UPDATE 2: James Joyner has a roundup of blogger reactions, minus his—since he was out last night and hasn't watched his TiVo yet. (I was wondering what was going on, and figured all the East Coast bloggers were just early-to-bed types.)

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Accuses me of being "in your face" on my blog lately. Hm. It is an election season, and the stakes are rather high this year. So one is going to hear about this stuff.

Still, I think "in your face" would be to post something like this:

Kerry and Edwards are dead in the water. Bush and Cheney are going to win this thing, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. The slide has started.

Democracy has a beach head in the Middle East, and within a decade this will mean a more peaceful world. Al Qaeda will be vanquished. In a few decades you'll have the chance of looking back and recognizing that you backed the wrong horse. Or not.

Like Ronald Reagan, Bush is the right guy for the right time, and the future democracies of the Middle East will one day look upon G.W. as Eastern Europeans do Reagan, who destroyed the chokehold socialism had on their countries.

Just so you know what it looks like.

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My father brought out that old chestnut, "Osama bin Forgotten."

I told him bin Laden would be captured or killed within a year. He asked if I'd post such a thing publicly. Delighted, I replied.

And he wanted to know why I thought this would occur.

"Because this country has lots of money," I told him. "People like money. There isn't too much of it in Pakistan. Sooner or later someone's going to decide they want some of it. And there it will be."

"You think one of his cohorts are going to sell him out?"

"I know it," I replied. "And then the Special Forces guys will be knocking on his door."

My father has declared me "provincial" because I don't read the New York Times. I know, I know: I could play the "Jason Blair" card, but it would be too easy.

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I don't want to burst anyone's bubble, but Jeff's home. In Colorado. On the couch in front of the TV with his wife. He's reading. She's knitting. Dinner was beef stroganoff, light on the noodles (Atkins, you know). They're feeding the dog and then going to bed early.

Honestly.

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. . . has a fun little story about an Ikea store that opened in Saudi Arabia. Some of the local denizens hadn't been re-reading their Emily Post, and . . . well . . .

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. . . has an interesting, meditative little essay on the development of the ARPA net, which of course turned into the internet. Worth a look.

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