April 14, 2008

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Ed Morrissey, in a piece headined "Iraqis Aren't Stupid—And They're Watching Us":

We can argue over 2002-3 all we want, but it doesn’t have anything to do with 2008. We are in Iraq, and al-Qaeda is arrayed against our troops. In fact, this is the best possible situation if we want to fight terrorists — to have them on a battlefield in straight-up fights against our military. It’s exactly what terrorists don’t want. If they wanted to fight our military, they wouldn’t use bomb commuter trains and fly civilian airplanes into their targets.

We have plenty of politicians who still don’t understand the strategic advantage this gives us. Instead of forcing them to defend ground and fight against the best military machine in history, these politicians want the military to retreat and allow them safe haven in Iraq. The best commitment they’re willing to offer is that if they get too comfortable in their new digs, we’ll stage another invasion of Iraq — without considering the costs involved, both logistically and in human lives, and that it depends on finding another country willing to host us after twice leaving the Iraqis twisting in the wind.

It also presupposes that we’ll get welcomed back for a third round of destruction by the people we would have abandoned twice. If we betray them a second time, don’t expect a third welcome. They already mistrust our honor after the 1991 bug-out that left them in the hands of Saddam Hussein. And it won’t just be the Iraqis who watch whether we keep our word; the Afghanis, the Saudis, the Jordanians all will take note of another retreat — and they will make their deals with radical Islamist terrorists accordingly.

Via Insty.

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April 13, 2008

Hey.

I don't think Hillary's form was so bad. You don't want to knock back an entire shot of an unfamiliar drink the first time. Heck; I've been known to take a sip from a tequila shot that showed up in front of me, and pass the rest of it along to a deserving person. (Jeez; if you're going to buy me a drink, at least ask what I want.)

'Course, I'm not much of a shots person, though I do dimly remember a night of Kamakazis when I was in my mid-20s. Chicks need to be careful; the appropriate level is usually 1-2 drinks fewer than what the guys are doing.

Hill sure looked better doing this than Kerry did applying for that hunting permit during the 2004 campaign, IIRC.

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Um. Does Obama Know

. . . that ducks are generally taken with a scattergun? I mean, I understand that he wanted to use the "Annie Oakley" image as a sardonic reference to Hillary (by which, of course, she can only be flattered). And I know he was burned up by her anecdote about the duck blind, which could be true but more likely is not.

Conflating shotguns with sidearms, however, is hardly any way to prove he's not as out-of-touch with hunters and the gun-owning community as he looked last week.

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To "Change," or Not To Change . . .

Karl at Protein Wisdom:

In this cycle, voters have seen Obama as a more strongly religious person than every other major presidential hopeful but Mitt Romney — and presumably Mike Huckabee, but neither of thse Republicans remain in the race. Obama has made a series of faith-based appeals in the course of his campaign. He has been campaigning as a “regular guy.” But his relationship with the noxious Rev. Jeremiah Wright, followed by his condescending remarks to limousine liberals in San Francisco about “small town” people in the heartland, present an image that looks increasingly more like the McGovern-Dukakis-Kerry model than the JFK-Carter-Clinton model. Can a more charismatic version of Dukakis narrowly win a “change” election? We may be about to find out.

RTWT.

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I Was in Pismo Beach Last Night,

watching television at the motel near by uncle's house. The staff at this place has started to know me by name, since I go up there every month or two. I wonder if this is a good sign.

I'm beginning to make peace with my grandmother's impending death ("impending" means sometime within the next five months to five years, I think; or whenever she loses interest in the small pleasures of life).

I did drop by my uncle's place for a few more hours today to hang out with my grandma, my dad, and my stepmom. The aunt and the uncle took a day off, to photograph wildflowers along the Central Coast and play with their nice dog.

I'm very grateful that my grandmother is getting an amazing level of care from good people; what she receives is not simply love, and not merely the lap of luxury—it is a combination of those two things that nearly no one can get, for love or money or anything else. Grandma has her own room, painted in the colors of her choice. She has her own bathroom, decorated and tiled those same colors, with every possible amenity for a disabled senior. She has a walker and a motor scooter. She has an easy chair and a television with close-captioned programming on it, a reading lamp nearby and an electric throw blanket. She can eat in her recliner, or at the table; her choice.

She is taken for drives whenever she wants, and my uncle/aunt pack her scooter in the back of the van, retrieving it at any stop.

She does seem to be bored, and somewhat isolated because of her deafness; she's also very vulnerable to colds these days. She is very comfortable, however, and lives in a house filled with laughter and smiles and light from the many skylights my uncle has installed.

I've always been culturally and emotionally cut off from my aunt and uncle, but I'm developed an appreciation of them—really, a sort of awe—over the last year. They are accomplishing something extraordinary.

It's uncertain what will happen to my parents in ten or twenty or thirty years. I can handle it if one of them needs me to do this same thing, but not if both do. And, of course, I have no idea who's going to take care of me when I need Assisted Living or worse. I should probably either (1) get rich, and/or (2) start kissing up to my nieces and nephews, hard. I, after all, have decades in which to convince them that the most fun one could ever have in life is to be obtained by taking care of a dirty old lady with a fondness for rock 'n' roll and clever turns of phrase.

The biggest concern is the fact that getting older seems to require a rapprochement with TV. As I said, I watched some last night, and the choice at that point appeared to be (1) network crime fiction with unrealistic lab setups, outlandish plot contrivances, and dreadful dialogue, or (2) "true crime" case file studies written with an eye toward redundancy, idiot-level vocabulary, and assiduous subject-verb disagreement.

My grandmother seems to hang out a lot at The Hallmark Channel, where I was not impressed with the quality of the performances. Not to sound snobby . . .

I wrote her a note: "what are you watching? Is it interesting?"

"No," she replied. "It's just television. Just entertainment." But she wrinkled her nose, so I don't think she was that entertained.

If it weren't for the internet, I'd be tempted to support physician-assisted suicide. I mean, I know that sounds dreadful. But even when we were kids, my grandparents were able to gobble up tremendous amounts of television. I loved it at the time; they let us stay up later than either our parents or our other grandparents did, and they allowed us to watch more "violent" shows (think Bonanza).

But I suspect my capacity is nowhere near my grandmother's.

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April 12, 2008

In Case Anyone Is Left

. . . who hasn't seen Hillary's response to the Obama gaffe, here you go:


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It's . . . the Jerry and Joy Show!

I'm driving up to Shell Beach this afternoon to see my grandmother, aunt, and uncle. The dad/stepmom will also be in evidence, and the have "dibbsed" the guest room at my uncle's house, so I'll be at the local Oxford Suites once again. (I do love the Oxford suites: they'll give you a glass of wine before bed, and feed you a real breakfast in the morning, complete with eggs, bacon and hash browns.)

But now there's some guilt emanating from those who have benefitted from the "first come, first served" approach to my uncle's den:

My baby

now looky here

you have to call me late Friday or early Sat

Q1: do you want to ride with Wendy an I??

Q2: do you wish to save $ and sleep in the Shell Beach suite and

Wendy and I camp at Oxford with no Tivo???

love dad

I believe that is what they call "noblesse oblige." This is what he got back:

I'm not gonna call tonight; I'm going to bed early. We just put a bid in on a condo, and I'm stressed out. I may be in double escrow by the end of the weekend.

1) no, thank you; I have errands to do on the way there and on the way back, and I need to come back early-ish Sunday for the home inspection [I want to be on hand to answer questions];

2) no, thank you very very much; I have some work to do for a client, and I need silence/the internet/no one around to do it. So this isn't the right time. But perhaps I can take a rain check and make the swap next time I'm going up solo? (The husband would NOT get along with an air mattress.)

Your son (1) has a racquetball tournament this weekend, and (2) is engaged in his annual happy-birthday overtime extravaganza at work (those stupid performance reviews they want to all be done at work). I'm sure you know this; it always seems to wrap up around his birthday.

But surely we could all get together sometime after that?

It might also be cool if you could get my half-sister out here in the fall or something; I'd like to meet my youngest nephew.

If you let all my scheming slip to the enemy, you will be executed.

Love,

J

He likes being addressed that way; he really does.

Hi Executioner:

I've always wondered what stress is!!

Unless you call me to the contrary--you will drive independently??

You will sleep at Oxford Suites and my wife and I will air-mattress it!!

If you sleep so late--why do you go to bed early??

I really look forward to seeing you!!

love dad

He ought to know that I don't really go to bed early; I'm always just trying to go to bed early.


Dad:

I will drive independently; I cannot be harnessed to another person's gasoline-powered conveyance. I'm a free spirit. And stuff.

I'm sorry that life is giving you a hard choice like: (1) air-mattress, but TiVo and no little doggie on the trip, vs. (2) real mattress and little doggie, but no TiVo.

I'm sure our ancesters are crying over what we've come to in this family. Shall we hold a seance and hear how sorry they are for us?

--J

You'll see what I mean. He loves my edginess. The most he ever says is "did your parents not spank you enough when you were a child?" This line is usually employed at dinner parties.


My baby,

I am very proud of your command of the marvelous English language!!

Go to bed. Go to sleep. I really really look forward to
seeing you up in Shell Beach with the rest of the family.

Happy traveling

I have great feelings about the weekend!

love--dad

But he does have a point; it could be that in a few select senses I'm a spoiled brat. I can't imagine how a thing like that could happen.

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Obama in Pennsylvania

I'm sorry; I can't stop giggling.

Glenn Reynolds: "'Let's have a national dialogue about egghead condescension!' It's got to work better for Obama than the dialogue about race has . . . ."

Ann Althouse: "The original statement sounded like a typical law-school-liberal remark. I think it was quite sincere, and I'm rather sure he believed he was being admirably intellectual and raising politics to a new, higher level. Within a liberal law school environment, that statement would be heard as a thoughtful, compassionate insight. Some of your colleagues might think you were excessively, squishily tolerant of what they see as ignorant, bigoted people, but I don't think they'd push you to be more understanding of the alien culture you were observing."

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I Guess Arnold Doesn't Want the Golden State on the Front Lines.

Though why the State (state or Federal) is involved in marriage in this day and age is beyond me.

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April 11, 2008

Made of Japan . . .

no "torch thugs" for the Japanese.

Huzzah, my friends.


(I am not here to argue which Asian culture has killed more people—or which Western one, either. I'm here to say that the Chinese government has been, will be, and deserves to be embarrassed by the upcoming Olympics.)

Three more things: (1) free Tibet; (2) free Taiwan; (3) fuck the Chinese government. Google it.

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Naturally, I Think the Real Subtext in the Absolut Ads

. . . was something to the effect of "buy our booze."

Of course, my intake of vodka tends to trend toward Skyy, since I'm much more into whiskey and gin than I am any vodka-based drink. The only time I can be relied upon to consume vodka is my "air-travel Bloody Mary." For this, they always use Skyy.

Of course, I'm really into it for the vitamins and antioxidants.

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Adorable Pitties!

Eric runs this fabulous vid of Coco the Pit Bull looking on with mild bemusement as Hillary Clinton laughs:

It makes me very, very happy.

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April 10, 2008

To Twitter, or Not to Twitter?

Is this, BTW, related to the issue of whether I should have those little icons below each post that enables people to send them to the folks at delicious, or Technorati, or Boing Boingmdash;whatever the latest "Clubby portal" is to one's favorite news, long articles, and blog entries.


Please let me know. I'm skeptical.

Esmay and Hackbarth both think I should join the army pf tweety birds; in all honesty, Hackbarth warned me to approach Twitter with a sober mindset, which he must realize I've never done at any point in my life—not for any new project or endeavor.

Should I be scared of Tweety Bird?


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The Only Thing Worse . . .

than being a whore is being a whore with no demand for one's services.

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So. Has Anyone Noticed that Canada Has a Troubled Relationship with Free Speech?

That's largely because of Richard Warman, who is now suing Five Feet of Fury, Small Dead Animals, Ezra Levant, and the folks at Free Dominion. As you might suppose, Warman has been involved with the Human Rights Commission up there; they are the ones who've made Mark Steyn's life so . . . interesting.

What an evil man. I'm hoping to see a single defense fund put together for these folks, but in the meantime, let's hit their tip jars. Hard.


Via Protein Wisdom and The Nose on Your Face (the latter site is selling Ezra Levant T-shirts, which are now being reissued to help the Free Speech Five with their defenses . . . er, defences [I may lapse into commonwealth English now and then for the next few months, as a sign of solidarity with our Canadian brethren]).

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"What the Hell Is That," I Ask. "The Goddamn Breakfast of Champions?"

Attila the Hub is sitting down to a slice of sumptuous strawberry-infused white cake, with whipped-cream frosting. "More like the lunch of champions," he informs me."

I check my watch. Of course: It's 1:30. That is "lunch" for a sane person. For those like me, however, it isn't really lunch until 2:00 p.m.

"Vaya con dios," I tell him. "Save some for me. Might make a great supper of champions."

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I Don't Suppose We Could Save the Girls . . .

without also assuring the women that they were also, in fact, the victims in this "victimless crime."

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April 09, 2008

Dudes of the World, Unite!

You have nothing to lose but . . . the chicks.


Via Insty, who cooks. Cooks, I tell you. Every now and then, that "men who cook" grass looks . . . moss green.

Then A the H makes a brilliant joke, and finds a dead rat in a trap somewhere that has to be disposed of. It isn't that I am unwilling to handle this task. It simply is that I haven't had to in this particular partnership—18 years down the line—and that's been fine with me.

I'm getting used to the idea that dead rats just get dispatched quickly somehow (from a pellet gun, I believe) and then are taken somewhere with healthy populations of coyotes and wild cats. Then they disappear. Poof!

Whose side am I on?—you know: truth, beauty. Shit like that.

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I Know, I Know.

I've got 25-30 pieces of spam to clear out of MT, but I'm just so . . . tired. It was a big day: I went to the gym for the first time in eight years or so. Saw the family. Madly straightened up, and then vacated the house in the middle of the day for a few hours, as usual, in the interests of obtaining a "backup offer" on same. Took a first pass on a fresh pile of paperwork from our real estate agent.

Tired.

Just don't feed the spammers, mkay? I'll get to it when I get to it. Best I can do.

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I Dunno. The "Hello Kitty" Vibrator Was Whacked.

But somehow this seems like it might cheer the family up a bit:

Depending upon the family, of course.

Unless I'm just turning . . . getting to be a bit . . . trending Okinawan, or something like that.


h/t: CalTech Girl.

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