Current Events Watch

Bill Clinton, at his 1993 inaugural address, said, “There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.” I wish that I still believed, but I’m not so sure anymore.

I miss Bill. And I miss my rose-colored glasses. Now I simply see red. All that George Bush and his band of cronies have wrought since setting foot in the Oval Office has led me to believe that perhaps there is very little left that is right with America.

Maybe there really wasn’t that much right to begin with, but I thought things were beginning to look up. As a nation we haven’t had such a stellar track record, of course, despite historical spin doctoring.

Near-extermination and subsequent oppression of the indigenous peoples? Yep, that was us … Manifest Destiny and all.

Atomic bomb attacks on civilian populations? Missions accomplished.

Stealing a page from the opponent’s playbook and interning American citizens to War Relocation Centers (”concentration camps” sounds so Nazi) because of their ethnicity? Caught red-handed.

Then, just when you think we might finally be making some forward progress, enter Bush to take the proverbial three steps back.

I hate Bush’s regressive America. Of course, to the thin-skinned patriots out there, using the words “hate” and “America” in the same sentence is nothing short of treasonous.

Anti-patriotic I am because I oppose an illegal war, a criminal administration, and am disgusted that our civil liberties are being flushed down the toilet.

“America, love it or leave it,” they say. Well, I may not necessarily love it right now, but leave it? Wherever else I might go, I could possibly become subject to current U.S. foreign policy, and I’ll have none of that! No thank you.

Look, I don’t hate America. It’s probably one of the best countries ever stolen. But we’re not necessarily the bee’s knees, either. And until we get back on the right track (kicking Bush’s sorry ass to the curb will be the first lost step regained), I’ll not be proudly waving Old Glory. Thank God the countdown has begun.

To end with another quote: “Let America realize that self-scrutiny is not treason. Self-examination is not disloyalty.” - Richard Cardinal Cushing

patriotism, george w. bush, american history, american presidents, 2008 election

I must say I was rather surprised that Obama got the thumbs up from Iowans last night. Not exactly flabbergasted, mind you, but I really didn’t expect to see him emerge as the Democratic victor in doubtless one of the whitest amongst white states. Maybe a racially prejudiced presumption on my part, I admit. My apologies to all pallid Hawkeye lefties. Sorry.

It wasn’t even close. The guy kind of kicked ass with nearly 38% of the votes.

Albeit with trifling party representation, Obama has for the time being secured the top spot on the Democratic leaderboard after the first round of competition.

Iowa is only the first of many tough rows to hoe, though, and despite the hype and opening ceremony ballyhoo (not to mention the inordinate millions spent on candidatial entrance fees), the Cornfield Follies really matter little when all is said and done.

Consider that Bill Clinton got only 3% of Dem votes for nominee in the 1992 caucus, and it becomes pretty clear that Iowans are not necessarily midwestern Nostradamuses.

I’m happy, though, with Obama’s first-earned bragging rights from last night’s win, whether or not he ultimately prevails. I like him, and since my guy D.K. has all but thrown in the towel, at this point I tend to think that perhaps B.O. is the way to go.

If nothing else, the results in Iowa revealed at least a soupçon of interest in effecting a much-needed course change, from the path that this country has been led down for the past seven years. Bush has certainly proven his lack of directional sense.

Expect some competitive script-tweaking from Hillary and John as the race continues.

Oh yeah, the Republican swarm bestowed upon holier-than-thou Huckster top honor for their team last night, too. Whatever.

barack obama, iowa caucus, hillary clinton, john edwards, mike huckabee, presidential election

You learn something new every day. For instance, today I learned all about papal bulls. For the sake of the ignorant, a papal bull is a decree to all of Christendom by God’s one and only earthly ambassador and ordained talking head, the pope. Who knew?

Admittedly, there will probably be few occasions that this knowledge might come in handy. Papal chat doesn’t tend to crop up often within my social circle, but you never know. If someone does perchance ask about papal bulls, though, I’m all set.

Such edicts, with ostensibly the Most High’s stamp of approval, must not be confused, however, with papal bullshit.

The Holy See may be God’s hired hand, but from time to time one is reminded that when off the clock he’s really just a guy with a pointy hat, one foot in the grave and at least a smidgen of dementia.

Kicking off the new year, Pope Benny today, in his first public address of 2008 to the doting faithful, warned that same-sex marriage is, of all things, a threat to world peace! Thank God I’m not the marrying kind, I’d hate to have to have to bear that burden.

The spiritual leader of the scarily preponderant Catholic population called for support of traditional families defined as, of course, that oh-so-sacred union between a man and a woman, saying that any attempts to undermine said traditional family threatens the very foundations of global peace.

“I wanted to shed light on the direct relationship that exists between the family and peace in the world,” he blathered.

Whatever, crazy old dude. Consider those currently wreaking global havoc hither and thither. Nary a flamer amongst them. And George Bush? Suitably married with duly begotten offspring, yet unquestionably the current greatest threat to whirled peas. Straight as an arrow, I’m assuming. Last time I checked, Laura still had a smile on her face.

So it’s not our fault, we didn’t do it. Quit blaming us for everything. Just let us be, and go back to playing dress-up. As an aside, the hat is fabulous!

And by the way, why is it “papal” and not “popal?”

pope benedict, gay marriage, pope new year’s speech, world peace

The year is 1996. Ridgefield, Connecticut. Fourteen-year-old raver girl bails, hits the Big Apple, hooks up with delinquent colleagues. Concert, party un, party deux, throw in some Ecstasy.

Later that same night across the river in New Jersey. Girl, buzzed on X, crashes at fellow raver boy’s house. Hangs out for a couple of days with his family, not yet ready to head home.

Meanwhile, back in Connecticut, Mom and Dad worry. They hear that she was last seen in New York City. Dad calls to inform friend and business partner, Mitt Romney. Parental hands wring.

Duty calls, and empathetic Mitt closes shop. Rallies subordinates for a search and rescue mission, books flights to NYC for all. Have You Seen Me? fliers in hand, they pound the pavement.

Cut to Jersey, where the crash pad family is watching TV. Seeing a report about their “missing” house guest, they call the cops, report that she is alive and well, homeward bound, and certainly not lost in New York. The search is called off.

Fast forward to 2007. New Hampshire. Well-intentioned Mitt, who eleven years earlier had put business on the back burner to spearhead the search for a runaway raver, is vying for the presidency.

Primaries pending and in need of support, he enlists the services of former business partner and party girl’s Dad to star in commercial touting why Romney should be the next ruler of the free world.

“My 14-year-old daughter had disappeared in New York City for three days. No one could find her. My business partner stepped forward to take charge. He closed the company and brought almost all our employees to New York.

“He said, ‘I don’t care how long it takes, we’re going to find her.’ He set up a command center and searched through the night. The man who helped save my daughter was Mitt Romney.

“Mitt’s done a lot of things that people say are nearly impossible. But for me, the most important thing he’s ever done is to help save my daughter.”

Without question, an admirable act. The Good Samaritan, exploiting company resources, human and otherwise, to organize a hunt for a partner and pal’s missing and wayward daughter. Kudos. Someone call Oprah.

But how exactly, pray tell, does Dad’s televised testimonial substantiate Mitt’s presidential aptitude? I don’t get it. Previous experience as a search party coordinator should be apropos of nothing, in my opinion, when applying for the position of Commander-in-Chief. Particularly when the experience is more than a decade past, not to mention unsuccessful.

The implications in the ad’s narrative are so tightly spun they might make Bill O’Reilly’s head explode. One can only hope.

First of all, viewers watching the ad are led to believe that Daddy’s little princess suddenly went missing, inexplicably wound up in Gotham, enter Romney to save the day. Lady in distress rescued!

Kind of glosses over that whole running away thing, the parties, the pills. And that, best of intentions aside, Romney’s First Division really played no role in “saving” the guy’s daughter. A girl who, in fact, didn’t need saving in the first place, hanging with her newfound homies in Jersey for awhile, and who voluntarily phoned home sans coercion.

Textbook example of post hoc, ergo propter hoc logic. “After this, therefore because of this.” Missing girl was found, Romney was in hot pursuit. Therefore, Mitt saved her.

Never mind that she wasn’t really lost or in need of salvation, or that the Romney crew was scouring the wrong streets in the wrong state and had zilch to do with her safe and sound return home. Apparently such trivial details are of little import.

With proper spinning and selective omissions, the resulting commercial is clearly intended to tug at the heartstrings of the most emotionally sensitive of New Hampshirian voters. Smokescreen marketing, fail-safe every time.

I still don’t understand, though, trifling facts aside and taken at copiously-edited face value, how this commercial evinces Romney’s presidential credentials. Of course, the ad ends with the obligatory, “I’m Mitt Romney, and I approved this message.” My question to Mitt would be, “Why?”

Never mind. Stupid question.

mitt romney, romney campaign, 2008 election, presidential election, romney commercial, new hampshire primaries

Contrary to popular belief, vertical stripes are not necessarily slimming. Just look at this Huckabee family photo from the good ol’ gubernatorial days! Yikes. Even the inexplicable elbow patches don’t distract from the fattiness of this clan.

Of course Mike Huckabee has since become fit, trim, in shape and ready to participate in the 2008 presidential marathon. Don’t know about the rest of the ‘bee hive; they may very well still be strapping on the all-you-can-eat feedbags, but at least Mikey is certainly down to fighting weight. A big loser indeed (let’s hope.)

However, despite having lost some major inches and a pound or ton, there still remains a considerable amount of work to be done on that fat head of his.

After Pakistani opposition leader, democracy advocate and former prime minister Benazir Bhutto was assassinated and her supporters suicide-bombed to bits yesterday, Huckabee, after apologizing for what had happened (whoops!), went on to explain how this tragedy emphasizes the urgent need to continue fighting terrorism in Pakistan build a fence to stop Mexican immigrants from entering the United States.

Well, that certainly was a clutchless gear shift from first into reverse!

Asked what the hell a border fence between the U.S. and Mexico has to do with Bhutto or Pakistan, Huck said that security at the southern United States border was dangerously weak and that “we have more Pakistani illegals coming across our border than all other nationalities except those immediately south of the border.”

Not quite true according to the Department of Homeland Security, which claims far more illegal immigrants come from other countries. But regardless of such trivia, I still don’t quite get the correlation.

Nor did others, apparently, so he had some more ’splainin’ to do. That was, after all, quite a clumsy segue from the subject of Bhutto’s assassination to the Mejicano-Gringo border fence.

When further questioned, he said:

“The fact is the immigration issue is not so much about people coming to pick lettuce or make beds. It’s about people that can come with a shoulder fired missile and can do serious damage and harm to us, and that’s what we need to be worried about.”

What does building a fence from sea to shining sea betwixt the United States and Mexico (gated for lettuce pickers and bed makers, of course) have to do with keeping Pakistani shoulder-firing missile bearers at bay? And what connection can possibly be made between Bhutto’s assassination, which was, of course, the issue he was presumably addressing, and barricading our southern border?

The guy is an idiot. Thinner now, perhaps, but without question still fat-headed.

mike huckabee, benazir bhutto, bhutto assassination, immigration, border fence, presidential candidates, 2008 election

It’s all about endorsements. In every presidential election, candidates clamor to obtain the backing of this union, that ethnic community, a fellow politician, or the editorial staff of some influential newspaper. Personally, I don’t care who is giving props to whom. I’ll make up my own mind, thank you very much, regardless of whether or not my favorite newspaper opts to champion my guy or gal.

Still, an endorsement gives a campaigning candidate additional political clout, something to proudly crow about while poopooing hats thrown into an opponent’s ring.

Not often, though, does one happen across an anti-endorsement. Publicly declaring “we really don’t care who you vote for, as long as it’s not…” is seldom done.

But that’s exactly what the editors of New Hampshire’s The Concord Monitor did this past weekend, just days before the New Hampshire primaries, informing readers why they should not vote for Republican candidate Mitt Romney. Period.

No published favorited pick as of yet for either party, simply a rather scathing laundry list of reasons why rooting for Romney is really, really wrong.

In the Monitor’s article published a few days ago, they referred to Romney as a “disquieting figure” and that although he looks and acts like a presidential contender, he “surely must be stopped.”

Of course, Republican cheerleading is inherently way off beam in my opinion (with the exception of my admitted and rather inexplicable political crush on Ron Paul), so I think they should all be stopped.

Notwithstanding, the editors at large do raise some good points about Romney worth considering by those who may tend to lean right, as wrong as they might be.

Looking at the facts, it seems that he has gone beyond simply assuming a Reagan-esque coiffure in pandering to the right-wing religious conservative gang, by taking flip-flopping to a whole new über level.

An occasional flip here and a random flop there are, of course, par for the course amongst all members of the homo politicus species, but some of Mitt’s mindshifts are pretty radical indeed, particularly regarding issues that any self-respecting Republican would deem vital. As the Monitor put it:

“If you followed only his tenure as governor of Massachusetts, you might imagine Romney as a pragmatic moderate with liberal positions on numerous social issues and an ability to work well with Democrats.

“If you followed only his campaign for president, you’d swear he was a red-meat conservative, pandering to the religious right, whatever the cost.

“Pay attention to both, and you’re left to wonder if there’s anything at all at his core.”

A few key Jekyll and Hyde cases in point:

Then: As senatorial candidate in 1994, running against Ted Kennedy, he claimed that he would be the stronger advocate for gay rights of the two.

Now: These days, well, not so much. Now he makes it a point to declare his opposition to gay marriage and adoption. That whole gay rights thing doesn’t sit so well with his new audience.

Then: Back in the day, pre-Commander-in-Chief-wannabe Romney assured voters that he was pro-choice and said that, “You will not see me wavering on that.” No way, no how. He even referred to the tragedy of a family member’s botched illegal abortion to justify keeping abortions safe and legal.

Now: He has apparently switched teams, now identifying with and playing for the pro-lifers. It’s a baby, not a choice. Without a doubt, some major right-wing brownie points scored here.

Then: The old Romney supported stem-cell research, once more with personal flair. Citing his own wife’s multiple sclerosis, he said that such research could help families like his.

Now: The new Romney largely opposes it. Again, the baby thing. Another secured thumbs-up from the peanut gallery.

Like I said, pick a candidate, any candidate from any party, and you’d be hard-pressed to find one who hasn’t dodged, waffled or completely flip-flopped at some point. I don’t believe there’s anything intrinsically wrong with that. Politicians are human, too (I think), and humans change their minds over time, sometimes even making the complete 180.

But, really, give me a break. The Monitor is spot-on. No way can Romney provide any reasonable explanation for this particular set of turnarounds in any way that could possibly be convincing to potential voters, other than that they are based on nothing more than his own ambition.

mitt romney, presidential campaign, presidential endorsements, 2008 election, presidential election, politics, presidential candidates

It’s the holiday season, and who doesn’t love Christmas? It is indeed the most wonderful time of the year!

I personally never hear sleigh bells ring no matter how closely I’m listenin’, nor do I roast chestnuts on a fire, open or otherwise.

Apparently some do, though, so in those respects I can only celebrate vicariously through others.

But that’s okay. I really don’t need jingling bells, one-horse open sleighs and such. Nope, I know the real reason for the season.

Happy Birthday, Jesus!

Of course the Lord of lords was not actually born on December 25th. Most likely a late summer or early fall baby, given the concurrent Roman censusing, farmer harvesting, and shepherd nighttime flock-watching. Activities not typically on the December to-do list.

I’d bet that at His age, Jesus probably doesn’t really care so much for birthday parties anyway, regardless of when celebrated. I know I don’t, and I’m still quite a young whippersnapper by comparison.

Commemorating the birth of Christ, however, remains important to us, His earthly disciples. Although a certain One may not particularly care to be reminded that He is not getting any younger, I’m sure He’s still appreciative. We all like to be the center of attention, after all, even if just for a day, whatever the occasion.

And with requisite celebratory gift-giving, thanks to that frankincense and myrrh thing, and since the really good sales don’t start until December, I’m sure He understands the need for the arbitrary date change. I mean, really, what’s a few months in the context of all eternity?

But not everyone has jumped on the manger bandwagon.

It’s hard to believe, I know, but there still exists a disturbingly high number of lost heathen souls in other parts of the world who refuse to appreciate or even acknowledge this holiest of days, set aside to reverently remember and honor the birth of the Savior. They’re all hell-bound, of course, unless they change their ways.

Fortunately, the missionary team of Mr. Garrison and Mr. Hand, hailing from South Park, Colorado, has heeded the call to spread the Good News to the rest of the world each December. Fishers of men, they are. Godspeed, brethren!

On such missions one must not pussyfoot around the Truth, so if you are easily offended by harsh conversion tactics consider yourself warned not to watch the following. Words are spoken that may be offensive to some.

However, sometimes dropping the “F Bomb” is the only way to show the pathway to true salvation. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Whatever it takes.

Hey, at least they haven’t resorted to waterboarding. Merry Christmas!

UPDATE: Speaking of the “F Bomb” I have to drop a big one on Viacom. The video clip I had here has “been removed due to copyright violation.” I’ll probably be receiving notice soon to also erase that DVD recording I made of the same episode. All righty then, you’ll still get the gist with this one. I guess as long as the characters don’t move, it’s all cool. Whatever. The song, though, remains the same …

christmas, south park, south park christmas, mr garrison, mr hand, merry christmas, youtube christmas

“Well, I think … if you are ever going to go destroy a country or wreak havoc on a country, it would need to be justified.”

These, the words of 28-year-old Jeremy Hinzman, ex-Army paratrooper formerly with the 82nd Airborne Division in Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

Carolinian no longer, he’s now hanging out in Toronto, Canada with his wife and kid after loading up the car and making the border-crossing road trip when his application for Conscientious Objector status was rejected by the U.S. military.

Joining the military in early 2001, he completed basic combat training and airborne school at Fort Benning in Georgia. It didn’t take him long to realize that he was participating in something that wasn’t quite right.

At Fort Benning, bayonet training featured this beaut of a chant:

Instructor: “What makes the grass grow?�

Trainees: “Blood, blood, blood!�

Jeremy started to think his enlistment probably wasn’t such a wise decision after all.

On to Fort Bragg, though, to complete his training. He was no slouch, by the way. Awarded the highly coveted expert infantry badge, given only to those who master dozens of tasks involving deadly military skills, he was admired by his superiors for his work ethic.

Then in January of 2002, along with his wife, he began attending meetings of the Religious Society of Friends. Quakers, whose Peace Testimony against participation in war, and against military service as combatants is a major principle.

His newly found pacifism and the birth of his son were among the reasons he cited for applying for Conscientious Objector status in August 2002. A little too late, perhaps, since his unit was deployed to Afghanistan shortly thereafter while his application was still under
consideration. And since his superior officers claimed to have no record of his application, he was ordered to go with.

So off they went, with Hinzman being assigned duty in a non-combat role there while the powers that be mulled over his request. After returning, he learned that his application had ultimately been denied and he was subsequently ordered to return to and serve again with his regular unit.

Then came the edict that it was time to pack the duffel bags once again, rack up some additional frequent flier miles, and head on over to Iraq, proliferating democracy.

Hence the family road trip, due north. A secret journey to avoid an illegal and controversial war, no doubt, since such blatant desertion is a felony punishable by death.

Really. Desertion and even disobedience carry the death penalty in a time of war. I kid you not.

Under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, 15 offenses can be punishable by death, though many of these crimes — such as desertion or disobeying a superior commissioned officer’s orders — carry the death penalty only in time of war.

So anyway, he applied for refugee status once on Canadian soil. I can’t say that I blame him. I wouldn’t be hankering to return stateside, either, all things considered!

Hinzman’s hearing was held in December of 2004.

The argument was made by him and his attorney that invading Iraq constituted a violation of international law, and that the subsequent occupation violates international human rights, as specified by the Geneva Convention.

They also argued that, in fact, his failure to refuse participation in such illegal activities would clearly be a breach of the Nuremberg Tribunal, turning Hinzman into a potential war criminal.

In March of 2005, Canada’s Immigration and Refugee Board determined that he was not a conscientious objector and was thus ineligible for refugee status.

Hinzman’s team challenged, but, alas, a year later in March of 2006, the Federal Court dismissed the request for a review of the previous year’s decision.

A last-ditch effort last month to appeal to the Supreme Court of Canada didn’t go so well, either. They refused to even hear the case.

Read Jeremy’s and other war deserters’ commentaries from 2005, about why they opted to hightail it to Canada in lieu of further participation in George W. Bush’s illegal bloodbath that is Iraq.

Of course, thousands of other soldiers have followed suit. These are troops I can unequivocally say that I truly support. What happens to them now that Canada seems to be in cahoots with Bushdom, I don’t know. Still, I admire their bravery and courage to take a stand against the atrocities of this administration. Heroes indeed.

iraq war, soldiers, troops, deserters, jeremy hinzman, anti-war, anti-bush, army deserters, george bush

I have a warrant out for my arrest. No kidding. The boys in blue actually showed up a few weeks ago to haul my felonious ass to the slammer. They did, however, acknowledged that they probably had better things to do, and let me off the hook with a stern directive to get to the police station post-haste. Payment of $300 bail would secure my continued freedom. (I never went. I hate being told what to do.)

This was due to my blatant disregard of an invitation from the local courthouse to visit with the Honorable Judge Wayne Cagle. I have since learned that this sort of no-show behavior is frowned upon, as attendance at such events is not considered optional.

All of this because my house needs a fresh coat of paint, and now the house judge isn’t very happy.

One of my stalkers (I have two; very popular, I am) sought revenge when I began dallying with another, and apparently thought that ringing up City Hall to file a paint complaint would be the best way to express his displeasure.

The house does need painting, I’ll admit, but I’ve seen worse. I’m hardly a criminal, just lazy. Nevertheless, a default judgement was rendered against me, and I’m now a fugitive from justice.

Seemingly lots of important cases on the courts’ dockets indeed! Judicial time well-spent. Okay, I know I should have shown up for my court appearance, but I was annoyed by the whole thing. Seemed so frivolous, and again, I don’t like being told what to do. Or when and where to do it.

Despite my less-than-objective opinion about my personal situation, true judicial lunacy really lives. Of course we’re all aware of that; we live in America, for goodness’ sake.

But we’re not alone in the world when it comes to WTF? court decisions. Take Italy for example. Case in point:

At least this couple duly showed up when summoned which, as I’ve learned, is a good thing. In hindsight, however, they may wish that they had opted to go on the lam instead.

Mara and Roberto Germano live in Genoa. Mara and Roberto had a baby boy. Mara and Roberto named and baptized the new addition Venerdi. Mara and Roberto were happy.

Unfortunately for the couple, city hall officials in Italy are obligated by law to report any unusual names to the appropriate authorities, and since “Venerdi” is Italian for “Friday,” well, given the oddity of the name, is it any wonder that the matter would end up before the Genoan panel of judges?

The law must be upheld, after all, and egregious names will simply not be tolerated, so the court date was set.

After no doubt much deliberation and legal research, the Venerdi verdict was administered. Judgement against the defendants. The child simply would not be allowed to go through life with a name that evoked the image of a savage, like the character Friday in Robinson Crusoe, “thus creating a sense of inferiority and failing to guarantee the boy the necessary decorum.”

The Germanos appealed, as might have been expected. Who wouldn’t? What they called the little tyke during the interim, I don’t know. Still, they waited.

Then last month the appeals court came to their decision. They stated that Venerdi falls into the category of the “ridiculous or shameful” names that are barred by law, and agreed that it recalled the native servant in Daniel Defoe’s novel.

They even stepped it up a notch. The judges wrote that naming the boy Venerdi would bar him from “serene interpersonal relationships” and would turn him into the “laughing stock of his group,” according to a report in La Repubblica this week.

Not only that, they said that even as a day of the week, savage imagery aside, Friday raises a “sentiment of sadness and penitence, when not being associated with bad luck outright.” Case closed.

Win some, lose some. The law is the law. But now, what to do? The kid was born in September of 2006, and more than a year later, are Mom and Dad really expected to have to dust off that book of baby names yet again?

Not to worry. The judges have that covered as well. It was court-ordered that the boy be named Gregorio, after the saint on whose day he was born. So that takes care of that.

Seems to me that there would be far more important things on both domestic and international dockets relating to matters somewhat more relevant than house paint or baby names.

But that’s just me, and I’m a defendant, so my opinion may be biased. I’d bet, though, that Mara, Roberto and little Gregorio would probably agree with me.

venerdi germano, mara germano, roberto germano, gregorio, baby name friday, italy, italian judges, robinson crusoe, germano baby

Philanthropic wordsmiths, take note! This is cool. John Breen, a computer programmer from Indiana who operates the Poverty.com website, has now also developed an online game that teaches vocabulary … and helps to fight world hunger at the same time.

It’s fun, it’s free, and it feeds. Not to mention that you’ll also pick up a few new words along the way with which to impress friends and family.

FreeRice.com is quickly becoming quite popular. Breen said the idea came to him one day in his kitchen while he was sitting with his two teenage sons, preparing for the SAT, when he decided, as he said, “to do something on the computer to help my son learn vocabulary words.”

It’s a simple multiple-choice game. You’re presented with a word and four possible definitions from which to choose. Get it right, and 20 grains of rice are donated to the U.N. World Food Programme. The U.N. then distributes the rice worldwide.

Pfffft, you say. Twenty grains? Well, pfffft yourself. They do add up. And quickly. The game is quite an addictive pastime, and before you know it, you’ll find that you have earned several thousands of grains to help feed some starving kid or family somewhere, and every little bit really does count.

Consider the fact that FreeRice.com is up to more than 8.2 billion grains of rice since Breen launched the site just this past October. That is more than enough to feed 325,000 people, according to the spokesperson for the World Food Programme.

Given my addictive personality, I’ve no doubt fed an entire village already. I can’t stop playing the game. Okay, so I have way too much free time on my hands, but at least I spend it well. Sometimes.

freerice.com, free rice, world hunger, word games, john breen, world food programme

YIKES! Hail to the potential Chief! A presidential election of firsts this will be, indeed. In addition to the conventional troupe of white guys in suits and ties, we also have the breasted, asbestos-pantsuited Hillary, the black-enough, non-Muslim Barack, and then, of course, the 9/11-superhero, occasional crossdresser Rudy, all on board for our consideration. Mixing it up in 2008!

What disturbs me about Giuliani is not his transvestism nor his drag queen diva alter ego. Go for it, dude. (He should probably rethink some of his fashion decisions, but that’s just my opinion.) No, the thing that disturbs me about him is his Republicanism, of course.

Nevertheless, I’m quite certain that Giuliani’s capability to continue this nation’s downward spiral would not be hindered by either tux or taffeta. I just hope he isn’t given the opportunity to prove me right.

I personally don’t get the whole crossdressing thing, but most straight people don’t get my penchant for boy-boy action, either. So who am I to judge? To each his own, live and let live, pick a platitude …

Still, some things might best be left in the proverbial closet, particularly if you’re Rudy Giuliani. Completely off the chart when it comes to garish and gaudy! Not a pretty picture. Practically nightmare fodder.

There is one thing, though, even more disturbing, and that is watching prick Dump Truck nuzzle the Queen’s boobies. Get a room. Preferably far from Pennsylvania Avenue. It may be time for a change, but let’s not go overboard.

rudy giuliani, giuliani in drag, 2008 election, donald trump, giuliani video, crossdressing

Okay, my bad for thinking I knew it all. In a previous post about the folks in the black community “having their panties in a bunch” over the soon to be raised Martin Luther King Memorial on the National Mall being contracted to a Chinaman rather than to one of their own, I wrote:

“I just find it bizarre that those who should most appreciate the wrongness of racism would be so up-in-arms about having a China guy, Lei Yixin, assigned the task of memorializing the legacy of the one man who without question did the most to advance civil rights. No Chinese allowed? Seems rather racist to me.”

But … what if I was hoodwinked? What if the media spinmeisters played a race card that ought not have been in the deck in the first place? Certainly always a fail-safe approach for stirring up a bit of controversy, no doubt, and doesn’t suck for garnering ratings, either.

That might just be the case here. Of course, I know there are two sides to every story, and while I always have my own opinions, I do also indubitably respect the right of others to differ, no matter how misguided they may be.

I’m only human, though, and may have been duped this time into believing that those within the African-American community are all astir because they think that, to quote myself, “only black can do black.” Could I have possibly been mislead? Read on.

I pointed out, too, that the majority of members on the selection committee was black, and that black sculptors and architectural firms were also involved with the project, all of the important details. Details that, as it turns out, seem to have been selectively cherry-picked by the network bigwigs and, of course, duly reported by the talking heads.

Here’s why I have reason to think so. I received a comment in response to my previous article from one Clint Button. Granted, he is himself a long-time granite artisan, and industry liason to the King Is Ours protest organization, so understandably may have a biased opinion about the issue.

But if you read his comment, there seems to be enough credible evidence to suggest that, despite the media’s spin, the hullabaloo really might not be so much about race after all. Abridged excerpts follow, emphasis is mine. You can read the comment in its entirety here if so inclined.

“While the simplistic interpretation of our protest is viewed as race-based, our true protest is based on the process that denied all Americans a fair opportunity to participate in this project. On Nov 8, 2007, the Barre Granite Association sponsored a press conference featuring King Is Ours. In front of a 24′ tall granite statue, Gilbert Young spoke surrounded by a dozen Master Sculptors and Carvers - including the three who actually produced that 24′ statue.

“In June 2005, the MLK Foundation received $10 Million Federal to fund the MLK Memorial. In May 2006, they visited Barre, meeting with one sculptor for 15 minutes and one manufacturer for 10 minutes. Both assured the MLK Memorial Foundation they could handle the project. Neither was ever allowed to bid or even see project specifications. Foundation members even refused to tour the manufacturer’s plant, where several of these Masters were and still are carving.

“Elberton, GA’s granite industry - in size, several times that of Barre - was never contacted at all. Claims by the MLK Memorial Foundation to have ’surveyed several quarries’ at Stone Mountain on a Sunday afternoon in June 2007 fail to expand that all quarrying operations in the Stone Mountain area ceased in the 1970’s. There are also no granite quarries in America that operate on Sundays.

“In June 2006, the MLK Memorial Foundation spontaneously visited St. Paul, discovered Lei napping on the lawn after completing the only carving he admitted to had ever done completely ‘on my own.’ Lei didn’t understand the scope of the project or of Dr. King until after returning to China, all per his interviews in the LA Times and stone industry publications. But he left St Paul with a check for over $140,000.00.

“Due Diligence has not been served. Federal Monies mean an open bidding process. That NEVER Occurred. No US Entity, granite company, artist, artisan or other ever was allowed a viable chance to participate. Equality has been realized. We have all been denied. Color did not matter.

“As a result, Dr. King will be transfigured into stone, quarried and carved under near slave labor conditions. Reportedly, per edict of MLK Memorial Foundation Executive Architect Dr. Ed Jackson, all references to race- including the word ‘Negro’ - are to be expunged from Dr. King’s writings when inscribed on the Memorial. That is a dangerous corruption of history.

“Personally, I was pursued, invited and then uninvited from a CNN broadcast panel discussion in Aug 07, being told verbatim, ‘This is an African American Issue. You will not be needed for tonight’s show.’”

There are some other minor things I’d still dispute, both in Clint’s full comment as well as on the front page of the King Is Ours‘ website. But the additional information has indeed been eye-opening, and well worth perusal. I encourage you to check it out, particularly since I may have botched the abridgement above. I just selected some key points that I thought were particularly worth mentioning. He really does have more to say on the matter.

Mass media’s methods of information propagation aren’t really so surprising, but I must say that I am disappointed in my Dearly Beloved’s coverage of this as well. Et tu, NPR?

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Yesterday the Republicans, today the Democrats. Their final respective debates before the Iowa caucuses to be held on January 3, and a combined three hours of my life frittered away. Must see TV? Hardly. Mind-numbing it was. The Republicans were in fact so boring that I actually dozed off for a few minutes. I did enjoy today’s Democratic powwow a bit more, but that’s probably simply due to my left-leaning proclivity. Not that there was much pow or wow, really. Both debates were pretty tame. And lame.

I was pissed off, too, that both my diminutive Dem Dennis Kucinich and Mike Gravel were barred from the debate … because neither have a campaign office in the Hawkeye state. Well, that’s not quite true. Kucinich does, but he made the mistake of renting non-commercial space. Live and learn, I suppose. The devil is in the details.

On the other hand, hello??? That weird little Republican black dude Alan Keyes got his chance to rant yesterday (he apparently doesn’t understand the concept of questions and answers) and, as far as I have been able to determine, has neither qualifying commercial nor non-commercial office space in Iowa. I’d be surprised if he has a campaign office anywhere, for that matter. Maybe they allowed him to appear simply for the sake of comedy relief.

Having already been subjected to a marathon of debates thus far in this presidential campaign season, I suppose there isn’t really much that we haven’t already heard from any of the candidates, so it’s little wonder that the last two days of monotonous discourse were so snooze-inducing. Still, I watched.

Based solely on performance, I’d say that the red team champ from yesterday’s episode would have to be (pains me to even say it, but …) Huckabee. Certainly not a fan of the Huck by any stretch of the imagination, but as I said, I am simply making an objective assessment based on performance alone. Ken-Doll Romney (who in the real world is ever that perfectly coiffed?) did well, also, by the same criterion. Of course, the loser isn’t even debatable, so to speak. This is one team that would clearly be better off if it simply lost its Keyes.

As for the blue team, I would say that the winner this afternoon was probably Obama. Again, purely performance-based. I enjoyed Biden, too, and thought he did well. Clinton seemed to pick up steam only toward the end of the show, so she lost some points there. With Obama on her tail (there’s a mental image that ought not be), her strategy seems to be shifting a bit and she somehow came across as less confident than usual. I think the consolation prize would have to go to Richardson. Nothing against the guy, it’s just that his public performances are consistently subpar.

Of course, a one-off stellar performance or a one-time bomb probably won’t really matter much to the folks in Iowa when next month rolls around. All of the candidates have been ass-kissing their ways across the state for some time now, fluffing their fans before the voters head off to the polls. At the end of the day, specifically the third one in January, it will ultimately come down to which contender kissed the most. I think it’s still too early in the game to think that the results are all that relevant, but apparently the pundits put a lot of stock into these opening ceremonies, so I guess I’ll concede to those in the know.

To all of the candidates, get some sleep (try watching the most recent debates, that’ll help), and prepare to pucker up. There’s still plenty of requisite ass-kissing on the agenda. Next stop, New Hampshire.

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In case you haven’t heard, we’re in the midst of an ice storm here in the Midwest. Ice is cold, not to mention slippery, so I just stayed in today. All day. Since the power came back on this morning, I’ve spent pretty much most of my time right here, Googling and Stumbling until my eyes have officially glazed over. My ass is kind of numb, too, now that I think about it.

Nonetheless, as one thing led to another, like they do, I happened upon this video of a song I had not heard in quite some time. I was only six years old in 1969 when those three days of peace and music (as well as various other activities) went down at Woodstock, so at the time I was probably fretting mostly about starting the first grade. Full day class, and no more naps. I’m sure I wasn’t so much aware of, much less concerned about, worldly events or the war.

First grade is a distant memory. But as history repeats, and Vietnam on steroids is upon us, I’m certainly old enough now to appreciate this song, decades later, in light of our current (Iraq/n) situation. Outta sight song, and a groovy performance by Country Joe from that historic hippie hoe-down. Far out, man!

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If you and eight of your closest friends happen to fancy gang-raping ten-year-old girls, Australia is the must-see place to visit. Queensland and surrounding territories are particularly desirable since this lovely lady, the Honourable Judge Sarah Bradley, will be your ally if by some chance others might frown upon your prepubescent dalliances. Not to worry, Judge Sarah’s got your back.

She’s works for the Childrens Court of Queensland, after all, so she’s a pro when it comes to handling such kid things. There’s probably even some wiggle room with that age issue, too, in case ten isn’t your cup o’ tea. Eight, nine, eleven, twelve … you’re probably still good to go. Book your tickets now! You might even be able to find some sort of group discount deal if you shop around.

I’m being sarcastic, of course. Because seriously, this woman is a nut job. In October of this year, she really did let nine guys off the hook after raping a ten-year-old girl back in 2005 because, as she said in her ruling, the victim “probably agreed to have sex with all of you.” That’s some horny kid!

Sure, they got obligatory slaps on their wrists. Probation for the six who were legally minors at the time of the rape, and suspended sentences for the three adults. Bottom line is, the judge’s emancipation proclamation set them free to go forth and gang-bang at will that throng of nympho schoolgirls out there just begging for it. Take a number, guys, you’ll all get your turn.

The offenders came from some of the most powerful and prominent Aboriginal families in Cape York, while the victim’s family had a lower status, according to The Australian. Of course, I’m not implying that that had anything to do with the verdict whatsoever, just passing the information along as an interesting factoid.

Judge Bradley defended her sentencing, saying that the sentences were “appropriate” because they were the penalties sought by the prosecution. Uh, I don’t even know what to say about that. It’s just wrong on so many levels.

At least Australia’s Prime Minister Kevin Rudd has spoken out against the ruling, saying he was appalled. “I am horrified by cases like this, involving sexual violence against women and children. My attitude is one of zero tolerance,” he said.

As reported by the BBC, Boni Robertson, an Aboriginal activist, and Queensland Premier Anna Bligh, have also both expressed contempt for the verdict, saying that there could be no excuse for the judge’s decision. Robertson said, “There is nothing culturally, there is nothing morally, there is nothing socially and there is definitely nothing legally that would ever allow this sort of decision to be made.”

Premier Bligh has announced a review of all sentences given over the last two years in the region. “I am not prepared to just write this off as an unusual one-off case. I want to satisfy myself that the people of Cape York, and the people who live in remote indigenous communities, are receiving the same level of justice as we can expect in any other community in Queensland,” she said.

Meanwhile, boys, enjoy your time Down Under. Wink wink.

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