Balls and Walnuts
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The Political Cusack
John Cusack has written a somewhat rambling political rant over at the Huffington Post:
On Bush, the Dems, Jon Stewart, Hunter Thompson, Bill Moyers, and King (not Don)
What the essay lacks in focus it makes up for in passion. Great quotes from Thompson, Moyers, and MLK, but Cusack’s commentary on Jon Stewart puts into words something that has been bothering me for a long time:
“. . . when Republicans, who were the ones who led us into this war, and the ones whom he’s so rightly skewering every night, sit across the table from him — there is some kind of unspoken message being given that they are not part of the problem, that they can wink and laugh with Jon and the things he is making fun of. That they are not them, when in fact, they are . . .
And they are getting a free pass to sit next to someone who speaks truth to power. They get reflected hipness just by sitting across the table from him, and the irony is that they share a laugh over the same things that he rails against. As an example, look at the jokey appearances by Bill Kristol, or David Frum. These are not dutiful soldiers standing by their president (which would be bad enough), these are the intellectual architects of the the invasion. Bill Kristol, the editor of the neocon house organ The Weekly Standard, came on and could barely keep a straight face when he said that Bush was a good president. And as anyone knows, reflected hipness on these types of men is a truly ugly thing. I would suggest each Republican must face a press conference, or a gauntlet perhaps, of Daily Show correspondents…or at least Lewis Black.”
I suspect Stewart would counter, “But this is comedy, people,” but surely he understands the responsibility of his position? As Cusack points out a bit earlier in the essay, Stewart is all we have — one of the few people with an audience AND the clout to get these guys to show up on his program. I suspect if he didn’t give these guys a walk, they’d stop making appearances.
What to do, what to do . . .
D.
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A prayer for Pat Robertson
LORD,
Given that one of thy most precious qualities is MERCY;
And that thou hast forgiven Pat Robertson for saying 9/11 was YOUR punishment for gays, abortion, and anal bleachings;
And that thou hast forgiven him for calling for the death of Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez;
And that thou hast forgiven him for calling all feminists “child killers”;
And that thou hast forgiven him for a lifetime of hubris, in claiming to know YOUR will;
Respectfully, LORD, I request THOU DROPPEST THE MERCY CRAP and remember one of thy other divine qualities, namely, JUSTICE,
And when thou, in thy divine wisdom, weighest the merits of Robertson’s recent call for a natural disaster to plague all of the men, women, and children of Pennsylvania, sinners and innocents alike, thou shouldest remember the Pharoah of Egypt: for you hardened your heart (sorry, LORD, but those thous and thys have become quite taxing of my puny mortal patience) and punished Pharoah for his sins, oh, how you punished Pharoah — that was truly righteous, LORD, good one! — but can we please, oh please, oh please, have some of that JUSTICE now?
When an ass clown calls for death and hardship for thousands of your faithful, and claims to do it in YOUR NAME, does that get your attention, LORD?
I’m sure you will choose a worthy and just punishment for PAT ROBERTSON (common name, LORD, so I gave you a photo above to help you find the right PAT ROBERTSON), but in case you’re busy and need some help, might I suggest you revive an old favorite — the ten plagues of Egypt? For extra zest, you might add “in his ass” to each of these plagues:
BLOOD in his ass.
FROGS in his ass. Come to think of it, hold off on that one. I like frogs too much.
LICE in his ass.
FLIES in his ass.
A HERD OF DISEASED CATTLE in his ass.
BOILS in his ass. LORD, you could do that one in your sleep.
A HAILSTORM in his ass.
LOCUSTS in his ass.
DARKNESS in his ass. Huh?
DEATH OF THE FIRSTBORN — no, you can stop there, LORD. I always thought you went a wee bit too far on that one. Instead, might I suggest
A GOOD-SIZED, YET NON-LETHAL EXPLOSION in his ass.
Amen.
D.
Technorati tags (thanks to Rob for doing the work for me):
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Religious Right
Liars
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Pat Robertson
If Amanda can procrastinate, so can I
Besides — it’s after 11. Too late to write anyway.
Also, I’m bummed. Amanda’s character has far better boobage than me. Just as well; if I were Amanda’s character, I’d never get anything done.
You are a Grassroots Activist. Anti-capitalist,
anti-patrist, anti-authoritarian, whatever,
you’re just fuckin’ anti. You probably tell
people you hate postmodernism, but that
assertion elides the complex interdependencies
among academic poststructuralism and
street-level activism. You don’t bathe
regularly (like hell I don’t!), and know at least one person who has
scabbies (that’s scabies, Nimrod).
What kind of postmodernist are you!?
brought to you by Quizilla
D.
Life with Fred
In my library of books on writing, none is more idiosyncratic than Damon Knight’s Creating Short Fiction. (My favorite book on writing, in case you’re wondering, is John Gardner’s The Art of Fiction. That’s where I go whenever I need reassurance that it’s all worthwhile.)
You may remember Knight as the author of To Serve Man (“It’s . . . a cookbook!”) Creating Short Fiction is his first person/intensely personal compendium of advice for novice writers. He gives the reader lots of snarkworthy passages, not least of which his annotated story “Semper Fi.” I don’t want to indulge my snark glands, however. I give Knight a hell of a lot of credit for throwing himself into this book so wholeheartedly. (more…)
Judith Miller’s Top 10 new job opportunities
Ms. Miller, 57, said in an interview that she was “very satisfied” with the agreement and described herself as a “free woman,” free from what she called the “convent of The New York Times, a convent with its own theology and its own catechism.”
She said that in the few hours since her departure had been made public, she had received several offers “of all kinds” for future employment, which she declined to specify.
Hmm. I can imagine the offers rolling in . . . (more…)
Help me feed my family
Q: What is the earliest example of pornographic dialog in a television show?
A: “Ward, don’t you think you were a little rough on the Beaver last night?”
That one tickles me every time.
I grew up in the 60s and 70s, in a superficially traditional Leave it to Beaver-oid nuclear family. Our neighborhood brimmed with other Beaveroid households. Our dads worked traditional jobs, and our moms were housewives who fixed Coca Cola ham on Sundays and proto-Hamburger Helper dishes on weekdays. Tuna casserole wasn’t the punch line of a bad joke; it was dinner. (more…)
Dream teams and novel combinations
Commuting theme music: Cowboy Junkies, 200 More Miles
Driving to work, I was (yet again) impressed by the richness of Margo Timmins’s vocals, and I thought: wouldn’t it be great to hear her produced by David Lynch’s favorite musical wonk, Angelo Badalamenti? Badalamenti did wonders for the ethereal Julee Cruise. Badalamenti + Timmins = sultry meltdown.
That thought automatically led to my other musical fantasy, 10,000 Maniacs’ Natalie Merchant produced by Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor. I love Natalie’s voice, but 10,000 Maniacs’ lyrics and music make me want to take a nap. Like Margo Timmins, I just know Natalie Merchant can belt out an edgy alternative rock song.
Blogging about music is, I suspect, a no win situation, since most of my audience won’t be familiar with these artists. I would have to stick to the well known names, which, with rare exception, are people I don’t give a damn about. “Wouldn’t it be interesting if Elton John did covers of The Cure’s greatest hits?” That sort of thing. (Stomach-turning, actually, but it was the first example that came to mind.) That’s why I’ve decided to focus on cinematic pop culture for my remaining fantasy items. Feel free to post your dream combos in the comments. (more…)
Why I love Harper’s: Full text of new Iraq story
I’ve long been a fan of Harper’s Magazine, the last bastion of unapologetic liberalism. For their November 7 issue, they’ve posted full text of Sam Smith’s story, Revision Thing, A history of the Iraq war told in lies. This story is faithful to its name:
It was absolutely clear that the number-one threat facing America was from Saddam Hussein. We know that Iraq and Al Qaeda had high-level contacts that went back a decade. We learned that Iraq had trained Al Qaeda members in bomb making and deadly gases. The regime had long-standing and continuing ties to terrorist organizations. . . . You couldn’t distinguish between Al Qaeda and Saddam when you talked about the war on terror.
The story is a chilling reminder of our government’s mendacity. The sheer weight of all of these lies lumped together in one place would sway even those furthest right on the political balance beam. Ah, if only they were reading. That’s one of Harper’s problems: preaching to the converted.
Smith concludes:
There’s no doubt in my mind when it’s all said and done, the facts will show the world the truth. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind.
D.
Nada
Here’s what I have so far for Smart Bitches Day:
Compared to film, literature is not jam-packed with hookers. Wikipedia has an incomplete list; they’ve left out Stephen Crane’s Maggie, and William T. Vollmann’s Butterfly Stories, too. There are probably other omissions, but the fact remains: damn, that’s one short list.
I had wanted to say something insightful about the prostitute as a literary archetype, partly because today is Smart Bitches Day*, partly because my NaNoWriMo protag is an alien who falls for a synthetic human hooker.
But now I’m looking at the clock. It’s 9:22 and I haven’t written word one towards NaNoWriMo. Sure, I’m far enough ahead I could take a day off, but I’m worried I’ll lose momentum. If I don’t start writing RIGHT NOW, I’m going to plotz. You should picture a very literary way of plotzing.
As it is, I fear I will write a 1,666 word dream sequence for today’s NaNoWriMo quota. To use another Yiddishism, I ain’t got bupkes.
9:27 . . .
D.
*Note added at 11:34. That came out all wrong. See, I wanted to look at the prostitute-john relationship as it presents in literature. That makes it SBD-worthy. I think it’s a fascinating relationship (in literary terms — I’m willing to bet the ‘relationship’ in real life is depressing, or boring, or both) because the power play is so very different from your standard romance.
Second note: 1600 words tonight. Not bad . . . and no dream sequence, either.
D.