Rumsfeld's Twisted Logic

From AP: "Donald Rumsfeld disputed a suggestion that the [increase in insurgent attacks] demonstrates a lack of progress in Iraq."

Oh, I see. By way of deductive reasoning: more violence = progress. Excellent. Let our iniquitous government keep drilling that one into our heads until it's time to start scrambling for excuses as to why the U.S. was struck by terrorists again.

Beyond that, Rumsfeld wants us to believe the whole world is simply in love with us for all our bullying and policing of everyone but ourselves: "Rumsfeld upheld the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan as powerful demonstrations of U.S. military prowess that will make other countries think twice about making 'mischief' around the world." More here.

That's right, world! No one makes mischief but us. And don't you forget it.

Actress Maggie Gyllenhaal's talents may be debatable, but as far as I'm concerned, she's right on the money, no matter how unpopular it makes her (or myself for supporting her position).

How long before "Actress Gyllenhaal killed in freak accident" scrawls across the CNN news ticker? I'm taking bets.

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

Memorandum
To: Donald Rumsfeld
From: A concerned American citizen (unlike yourself and your colleagues)

Excuse me, Rummy, but where's Osama? Remember him? The one who actually perpetrated the 9/11 attacks? Yeah, the one with the beard. Right. The one Dubya so bravely promised would "hear from all of us." Right. Osama. You remember. So where the fuck is he while our President's busy holding hands and cuddling with his countrymen?

With all the U.S. "military prowess" you so proudly publicize, why is the world's greatest criminal mind (second only to Karl Rove) still roaming around, listening to his iPod, watching Will & Grace in some cave somewhere, strategizing his next attack (or perhaps playing golf with Jeb?) while we're busy killing and torturing Iraqis? Please explain. Thanks.

Reasons to Smile (Even on a Monday)

Ann Coulter's Time cover, before re-touching.

I imagine Satan will ascend upon Earth at some point to reclaim his myriad spawn, at which time we'll finally be rid of the witch.

Saturday's fantabulous Passover seder tops my list of things to rave about this morning, but alas, it will have to wait, as duty (the paying kind) calls. More on matzoh balls and merry-making later.

Where Is the Love?

Who says Red Sox fans hate the Yankees?

On Language

Here's how I measure up:

I've always been intrigued by languages and, more specifically, the various dialects inherent in any language. American English has a myriad interesting dialects and colloquialisms unique to different parts of the country. How else do you explain the multitude of different ways Americans refer to a sub sandwich, depending on their region (i.e., a "grinder" in Massachusetts, a "hoagie" in Pennsylvania, a "hero" in NYC)?

Splitting my childhood years between New York City and Los Angeles (while being surrounded by multilingual parents, grandparents and extended family) not only gave me a fantastic education with regards to the idiosyncracies of verbal communication, but fostered one of my biggest interests in life: that of language.

Speaking of language, my sister, a doctoral student at UCLA, was recently subjected to a round-table-like interview with a panel of 12 university donors whose purpose it was to decide whether she was worthy of fellowship money for her dissertation. Anyway, during the interview, my sister mentioned how her fluency in Spanish had served her well on recent trips to Cuba. One of the well-heeled old biddies piped up, "Oh, I didn't know they spoke Spanish in Cuba!"

Ouch. Only in America, folks. Where shameless ignorance about the world outside our borders is not only rampant but perfectly acceptable (even among the privileged!). Aren't you proud?

Feeling My Age

Songs recently added to the playlist of our local so-called "classic rock" station:

Duran Duran - The Reflex
Pet Shop Boys - West End Girls
The Clash - Rock the Casbah
INXS - Don't Change and Need You Tonight
The Cars - Hello Again
The Pretenders - Don't Get Me Wrong
U2 - One (and others from Achtung Baby, in addition to what seems like half of The Joshua Tree)

I, being of (generally) sound mind and body, hereby call upon benevolent friends out there to find it in their hearts to kill me as soon as the classic rock format ventures to introduce artists whose recording careers began, say, post-1994. On the occasion that those playlists commence to include bands like Green Day, I implore you to ensure my death involves pain, since by that point I'll be so numbed with repulsion I'd likely not even feel it.

Should no one be kind enough to abruptly end my life when one of the aforementioned travesties takes place, fear not. I'll be more than happy to do it myself on that sadly inevitable day when the criminally-unfortunate offspring of Britney and Kevin scores her own recording contract.

Oh, and happy Friday, everyone! Hope the evil taxman didn't take too big a bite out of your personal pie this year.

Technology, How Far You've Come, Indeed

This bit of online amusement harkens back to those innocent days BCPE (Before the Cell Phone Explosion) when my mildly insane then-boyfriend, D, and I would send cryptic messages to each other's pagers whenever outside duties forced us from each other's embrace for more than five minutes. However, a description of the whuppin' I'd get were I to ignore an "07734" would only offend the delicate sensibilities of my readers and fuck if I'd want to do that.

The BCPE Era was also a humdrum time when my good friend Christina and I would sit half-asleep in our respective offices across town, type up notes to each other, print them and FAX them back and forth throughout the workday. The precursor to today's unbridled IM addiction, ladies and gentlemen, fueled by the workplace ennui of two geeky 20-somethings in the City of Angels. Who knew?

Musings on a Pair of Important, But Dead, Men

I was sad to read about Prince Rainier’s passing. Ever since Grace Kelly’s mysterious death when I was 11, I’ve been fascinated with Monaco and the Grimaldi family: Rainier’s history, the way he wooed Grace and swayed her to sacrifice her acting career, his devastation at losing her, the privileged upbringing their children enjoyed, the antics they displayed later. And why Prince Albert--often ridiculed in the press for being the least handsome of Rainier and Grace’s offspring--gets so much ribbing for choosing to remain single. Sorry, but have you seen some of the women he’s squired? Can you blame him for not wanting to settle on just one? (Of course, now that he’ll assume the throne he may require a Princess, and if that’s the case, Albert, I’m brushing up on my French.)

The passing of the Pope, on the other hand, leaves me more curious than anything. How will do they go about replacing this figurehead who’s headed the Roman Catholic church since I was in the first grade? Why does the memorial for an ailing, 84-year-old religious symbol warrant a visit from our president, who hasn’t deigned to show his face at a single funeral for the, oh, 1,600 or so men and women he himself sent impulsively and needlessly to meet their ends in Iraq?

Phoebe sneers, "Pope, Schmope... where's my catnip, bitch?"

My dissatisfaction for and aversion to organized religion is no secret to anyone who knows me personally or reads this site. Still, I can’t help but feel that John Paul--as the sheer embodiment of intolerance, homophobia, prejudice and fanaticism--must have genuinely and deeply touched millions of people to boast such colossal numbers lining up for days just for a glimpse of his decaying corpse. (I keep thinking of [and smirking at] the words of some member of the Monty Python troupe, “He is bleeding demised.”)

I see photos of masses of people weeping and bowing at the site of him and I wonder, “What am I missing here? What do they know that I don’t?” And it’s not just a matter of religion, since many of those making the pilgrimage (it irks me beyond expression that the media refer to papal corpse-viewers as “pilgrims”) describe themselves as non-practicing Catholics or simply not religious at all.

Besides, Rainier was more handsome. Now Queen Elizabeth is the longest-serving monarch (read = useless figurehead) in Europe. All hail.

Simply Sickening

Good thing our illiterate president doesn't follow the news or we might be in for a whole new kind of Patriot Act!

Boys and girls, can you say "hypocrite?" How about "reprehensible fucking liars" then? Let's hear the loathsome Scott McClellan, Head Liar, speak for himself:

"We welcome a diversity of views at the [presidential speaking] events," White House spokesman McClellan said Tuesday, although in fact participants at the events are carefully screened and dissenting voices are rare.

Read the whole story here, if you have the stomach for it.

This is the kind of news story that makes me want to relinquish my American citizenship and swiftly flee to a country where the word "freedom" actually means something to its leader other than as a catch-phrase impudently employed to dupe a susceptible populus into voting for him.