cowabunga

(with a tip o' the toque to chief thunderthud)

when it snows up north, there's a day after everything's settled and nothing's been packed that it's simplement parfait, and that's the day to drop it all and let the twin boards roll. such a day was friday.

at the dusky end of the day there was observed a pair of skis that were reckoned to be (by a year or two) even older than mine, which is the point where the story about this perfect moment ought to begin. see, i've cared for this pair of planks (otherwise known to be employed by "two plank wankers", which is the other point where this story of the perfect moment needs go before it'll make sense) meticulously through all manner of disuse, from meeting and marriage to a frosty frost-phobe, to budget-sensitive exile in a place where space would otherwise be at a ski-free premium. but they're tuned and sharpened as they've always been, just in case, and they were there for me when it counted once again. (how does one ever give up on good friends?)

everything on the slopes these days is grey, dark or otherwise, if you haven't been recently, from boots to kit to the helmets atop the heads. (ok, the skis sport a little color now and then, but it's usually earth-toned and hardly designed to attract undue attention). the first thing that likely draws attention to my mismatched couture are the blaze red boots that are actually (ssshh, don't tell the skis they'll be hurt) the reason my ensemble has been curated to be kept together in the first place. instead of buckling four or more times across the front, and being one ankle-abusing pain in the ass in which to clunk around the lodge, these are the smoothest set of one-click and you're in rear-buckled salomons you ever did see. they take exactly 2 seconds to put on, and you can move in them, both on the slopes and off, like nothing else seen before or since the mid 1980's when they were born. and they fit perfectly...

so the other part of the ensemble that generally attracts attention are the two staves (usually, and more on that later) attached to said boots, which are in three ways like nothing most folks of insufficient age have ever seen. first of all, they're over six feet long, and nothing you can buy these days will ever come close to that. second of all, they're as narrow and straight as they are long, and i'm not here to dis parabolas, but it's an extremely unique profile on the slopes, and not hard to miss when they go rocketing by. (nothing faster than straight skis on the straights and you can race me to find out). and third of all, they're possessed of an ironically modest day-glo color scheme on an off-white background that isn't so much loud in and of itself as just screams not of this era.

yes, the pejoratives that once flew between boarders and skiers included "two plank wanker" (to which might be replied, "knuckle dragger" or some such witless retort) and its only been in the recent past that peace has reigned on the slopes. (for years mountains wouldn't allow boards on them at all, and, even when they did, they started out by banishing them to specific lifts and terrain areas so that never the twain would meet). these days it's much more amicable, though you still rarely see mixed groups of skiers and boarders (my party of seven, including as it did my friend's son was one of the few on the mountain) or hear a lot of friendly exchanges between them.

so, anyway, along towards the latter hours of the day, after being sufficiently warmed up by various runs through the moguls and the woods and wherever the peer pressure might lead, it was on to the more liesurely appreciation of the afternoon. e.g. my buddy's son, the boarder, is pathologically compelled to cut every corner into the woods and seek out the freshest powder and drops that are to be had. others in the party would choose the bumps or the cruisers or whatever they preferred on their way to rendezvous by the lifts, but me, as is my compulsion, i was just enjoying the afternoon while interspersing being spoiled for bursts of speed and whatever air might become necessary and possible because of it. (hey, it's what i do). i'd like to say i'm not particularly reckless about it, but i can manage a little cowabunga now and then, and so it was that i approached one particular groomed-for-purpose airfield.

the spot was a favorite of the boarders, who tend to make up for their intrinsic slight deficit of speed with the sublime solace of air time, so there were a group of four or five nearby admiring their mates and planning their next assaults as i came round the bend into view. there was an immediate whoop and holler when it became clear where i was headed, and i think the orange boots and bright blue turtle fur hat gave a hint that i wasn't kidding, and then i was aloft to hear the whole soundtrack shift...

from cheers to that unmistakable "ohhhhhh" of sympathy when the home team just doesn't quite come through with the win... cuz, see, i'm dumb but i'm not crazy, and i cut the speed just enough on the approach so i easily cleared the jump to its first easy landing, (not a bad patch of air), but not all the way to the second one another 15 or 20 yards or so down the slope that requires both abandon on the approach, as well as experienced confidence of wrap-up lest those boards once again spend time detached from those boots (as they do from time to time in my case) on the landing. 48 year old legs churned mercilessly through mogul fields all day on equipment that is designed for anything but leaves one in a position of vulnerability that only age and sagacity can appreciate. you just don't do crazy s*** like that if you aren't in shape for it. (ok, maybe once or twice a day, but ssshhh don't tell anyone).

the fun was that they were cheering for me and my retro kit to share their joy, and it was nice for there to be no gap across the generations or the equipment to share it back. ever since snoopy appropriated the term, cowabunga has been cowabunga, and there's more in common between guys (it's almost always guys) who know the thrill that immediately proceeds the agony of defeat despite their age, backgrounds, equipment or other politics than there is for any coincidence of the same.

and a great time was had by all.

more ways to lose the war on terror

the ap today relayed the army's recent report on servicemember suicide. for the first time since vietnam (though, of course, some people continue to suggest iraq isn't the same thing all over again, but that's a whole 'nuther conversation) the suicide rate among soldiers has surpassed figures for the population in general. (20.2 per 100,000 in the military, vs. 19.5 overall, though, actually, the civilian numbers are really 11 per 100,000, but the army adjusts them for "demographics", arguing that their soldiers tend to be younger than the population at large or something like that).

what's sobering on top of all this is to realize how honestly hard the army has been working on their anti-suicide programs in recent years, which is stark contrast to the vietnam era where folks were just told to get over it and carry on. how many didn't kill themselves that would have otherwise? and what of those discharged who are no longer tracked, but whom Congressional Research Services estimates are offing themselves at a rate of around 6,500 a year?

like old people dragging suitcases onto subway cars 70 years after economic depression, veterans carry around their own little personal hells for the rest of their lives after serving their country. we can calculate the cost of victory in dollars and cents based on how many smart bombs and cluster munitions and white phosphorous shells we have to drop around or even over civilian population centers, but we'll never reach a final accounting for the full cost we ask these people to shoulder on our behalf. for myself, i think i could stand an increased chance of running into criminal terrorism on our soil, for myself and my children, if it could mean that i wasn't buying that safety at the expense of someone else's bereavement and loss of their own child in another equally tragic way. (and if my children choose to follow the family footsteps into the military, counting back ten generations to the revolutionary war, and including all the major ones since then, then i'll be even more adamant that something has to be done about this).

i say we have to realize what our liberty is worth, and further recognize that our "safety", such as it is, is always an illusion. someone will die, and it's cowardly to make that lottery pay at someone else's innocent expense. new hampshire's motto is prescient in this regard: live free, or die.

i choose freedom. i regret, for myself and all those now dead as a result of it, that the recently ousted presidential administration did not.

as ben franklin said--those who would sacrifice liberty for safety deserve neither, and will lose both.

when people don't buy cars...

recently released labor department stats confirm that we are ALREADY setting the all-time record for unemployment: 4.78 million people are collecting unemployment RIGHT NOW, and once you adjust for the other 1.7 million people who are on the extended federal program (authorized by congress last summer) you get a total somewhere in the vicinity of 6.5 million looking for work but unable to find it. all that, and we haven't even begun to scratch the surface of corporate layoffs now being planned. (my company just announced 3,000 to start yesterday, and you gotta know the almost 6 billion dollar quarterly loss at ford isn't going to result in their labor ranks growing at all to compensate).

why is it so easy for the socialists in washington to toss trillions at failed bankers while tough-loving the very people who will be required to pay the taxes to pay for all this nonsense? we need jobs so people can pay their taxes, not corporate welfare so those outfits can pay their bonuses. that german plan to spur car buying seems like exactly the kind of approach to take--relying on free market forces to take a little grease for the economic gears and parlay it into what you really want to happen, which is business as what used to be usual.

waiting for the unemployment tide to crest (in the 30's it took 4 full years to peak, or hit bottom as it were, and we wound up with 25% of the people out of work, and there's no indication we're on anything but a worse course given how fast the numbers are spiraling) is going to be a long and bumpy ride. i can't even imagine what my parents know of how hard it will be. all i know is that i drank powdered milk as a kid even as late as the 1960's, and my dad still won't spend a nickel without writing it down in his little ledger. (e.g. to get to logan he bums a ride to the commuter rail in acton, swaps to the green line at north station, the blue line at government center, and a bus at the airport station, all while in his 80's and barely able to heft his own suitcase, which doesn't, btw, have wheels, since that would require buying a new one and as far as he's concerned the old one is still good and he can't afford the money, though, ironically, between his navy pension, schoolteacher pension, post office pension and social security, he's taking home more money than most of us).

that's some scary penury that leaves people that damaged for that long. (he wasn't even 10 years old in 1929). why we keep tossing it off as quirks among old people, instead of recognizing it as the life-lasting impact of the true economic terror we're all going to face in just a few short months and years, is beyond me. these are plenty sharp people, after all, who figured out how to bust hitler and tojo on a shoestring, and who built this country into what we've seen fit to ruin in a flash of misplaced anti-terror bravado.

what color is your parachute, indeed, because a lot of us will be living under one and using it as a tent before this is over.

german-engineered stimulus--are we listening?

we've made spectacular repudiation of our automobile industry: we're willing to hand unfettered hundreds of billions to banks, many of whom are proven corrupt and incompetent, and who have done very little to save jobs or to abate the cruel pincers of foreclosure upon the citizenry who will be asked to pay in taxes the bill for all this largesse, while we have refused to mete out even a tiny fraction of that to our beleaguered auto folks at the inevitable cost of millions of jobs. (i'm not saying *anybody* ought to be bailed out, because i don't think they should, but i'm just saying).

from today's uk telegraphs, here's a story describing how the germans are going about this instead. instead of wasting billions on stupid tax schemes, (either raises on vulnerable parts of the economy, like the profoundly stupid idea to raise the mass meals tax at the same time that restaurants are failing due to decreased business, or cuts in areas where people should be expected to pay their own way, like with road tolls observing our crumbling bridges that we won't be able to afford to pay people to fix who will otherwise stay unemployed), and bogus corporate and banking handounts, angela merkel's government is instead taking advantage of this opportunity to pursue the goal of cleaner car emissions while giving her automakers a nice corollary boost. see, in germany now, folks with old inefficient and environmentally dirty cars are being offered a government rebate if they go out and trade their old stinker on something shiny and new. the whole thing will cost about a billion and a half, and still respects the free market to reward the best automakers, and continue to drive out the weaker ones. and, the taxpayers get fly new rides to go with their having to foot the bill.

good all around.

are we paying attention?

the good life

what good is luxury living if you can't incorporate it into the proverbial good life? with that and the living well / best revenge thing in mind, friday is hereby officially declared a ski day.

should i ever be elected emperor, two of the standing holidays of the year will be the first sunny 70-ish degree day of spring, for obvious reasons, as well as the first sunny 30-ish degree day of winter immediately following a good foot-plus snowstorm that results in mountains covered by fresh powder. this year, friday is the day. be there or be square.

actually, i can't take full emperorial credit for things this time around, since, on last weekend's ski junket, it was forgotten that the natural ace skier would need her natural ace skier helmet this weekend when she goes on her natural ace skier date with her natural ace skier fan club. (president being one particularly captivated boy ace skier, but it would embarrass her to talk about it further, so you can just fill in those blanks). short answer is that, rather than give UPS the satisfaction of a job well done, it would be better to just do the drive myself, and use it as a prime excuse to get in another day on the slopes.

this time it'll be full out and no prisoners, and complete with my vintage 195cm ice rockets that nobody else seems to like anymore while they're busy pirouetting on those parabolic pansy boards, but which i still adore and prefer for how frickin fast they go when you point 'em downhill. (still don't get the whole shaped ski logic overall, even after skiing on 'em a bunch lately--are we trying to make it easy, or fun?).

ok, i'm exaggerating a bit, because stiff straight boards are a bit more of a challenge when things get icy, but when the snow is soft and copious, there's nothing like plenty-long planks for maximum go. (and don't get me started about knuckle-dragging on snowboards, because i'm just plain old, and i refuse to get it).

yee-ha!

peace now

it would appear, contrary to growing evidence that there might not be, there are actually non-genocidal people still living in israel. some of them have even recently released a report on 2008 israeli construction in the west bank. confirmed by "peace now", in addition to their army blowing up innocent civilians, israel has 285,000 settlers who have taken it upon themselves to deny palestinian sovereignty of any kind, and confiscate and occupy land in what are called the territories. over the course of 2008, it's documented via both aerial photographs and on-sight inspections, these intrepid and internationally renegade folks have built 927 new structures that are even further west than the route of the contested "separation fence". here's the link.

btw, for you uber hawks out there, it should be noted that peace now was initiated during the stalled 1978 egypt/israeli peace talks by 348 soldiers and officers of the israeli military, including front line combat units, and not pie-in-the-sky-for-everyone peaceniks. their premise is secure borders.

luxury living

funny how the little things can make their not so little differences.

for better or for worse, parking in an urban area, for those of us dependent on our automobiles, has a significant quality-of-life impact. at worst, the unavailability of nearby options requires both a lengthy walk to and from, as well as hefty monthly costs in either parking fees or parking tickets. at best, however, things can be downright homey.

when i first moved to shangri-lowell, i counted myself doubly lucky to have both a guaranteed space in the contiguous surface lot, as well as extremely convenient paid options in the city garage literally next door. my first winter i did the "snow emergency" dance by shifting my car a half a mile down the road to the free overflow parking accommodations provided by the city whenever it snowed, and i indulged on the patience of my occasional guests to bear with the parking arrangements next door whenever they came by. certainly not an unreasonable lifestyle.

at some point over the more recent months, i became more confident in the financial sense to maintain a permanent space in the garage next door in addition to my surface space. guests now, and most importantly my automotively ambulatory 17 year old son, always have a place to stash their wheels, though, as was learned one particularly generous evening awhile back, it's not always easy for everyone to figure out how the swipe cards need to be operated in order to be able to keep the ins and outs straight as far as the mechanized gates are concerned. still not unreasonable, and a bunch more convenient.

but this past week has been the lottery jackpot for me, and tomorrow's snowstorm is going to be the crowning experience. see, an elderly gentleman in the building, perhaps another 40 years down along the same track i'm on here, is retiring his car and going completely off the automotive grid. fortunate to be in possession of a coveted basement parking spot, he's put the space up for rent, and i an only too happy to take him up on the offer.

i still have my surface sticker, so anytime anyone comes over, they can just scoot down into the basement space, and everyone is going to be very, very happy. whenever there's weather, be it rain, snow, sleet, hurricane or tornado, there isn't one drop or flake or piece of random precipitate that will ever have to touch the ever-greying hairs on the top of my head.

suh-weet.

quickie gaza trivia

missed in the casualty counts for me over the past weeks is the curious little factoid that, of the 13 israeli deaths over the duration of the aggression, only 3 of them were civilians. (i'm assuming all 3 were from terrorist/rocket attack, but who knows).

contrast that with 1285 palestinian deaths, half of whom it is estimated were civilians.

somewhere north of 600 to 3. my stomach churns at the implications of it.

it's also remarkable to consider, at a cost of somewhere north of 600 to 10, that the militants are still eager to continue to carry the fight to israel. just this morning they detonated a roadside bomb that killed an israeli soldier. even at a loss of 60 to every 1 of the enemy, they're at it.

i have to conclude that anyone still addled enough to think that overwhelming force of arms, even with all the related and lopsided casualty counts, is going to stem this tide of violence is absolutely lost of whatever compos mentis they ever might have had in the first place.

surge, my ass. anyone who wants peace is going to have to find a peaceful way to achieve it. everything else is just children playing with tanks, or what might be thought of as the equivalent of their uncle's loaded revolver. it can sometimes end ok for today, but it, over time, never ends well. guns, like terrorists, always eventually go off.

you have to find a way to unload 'em.

who we are

took a friend to watch while i played last thursday night late. coming off the field, it was remarked that the other spectators curiously never referred to me as "the tall guy" when referring to me and whatever passes for my play on the pitch. (which would have been the way i was seen otherwise). nope, the others used the white beard and the blue socks as their preferred markers.

interesting how we think of ourselves, and also how we think of others. to some i'm the tall guy, while to others i'm the guy with the white beard and blue socks (when i'm wearing blue socks). i'm sure to plenty others i'm a whole raft of pejoratives that i can't even begin to imagine.

yes, i do think of myself as somewhat tall, but not remarkably so. i think it's because i'm really only impressed when i encounter taller people, so i have no real sense for how many shorter ones pass by during my day. i guess it might make sense that shorter folks see the height first, but it just doesn't register all that much with me. i'm sure other taller people wouldn't notice it at all, either.

as for the white beard, it's something that i do indeed figure stands out, not least because it would seem a lot of guys are vain about betraying signs of age so they decline to sport them, but i'm not going to waste another minute shaving that i don't have to, so there you have that. there are worse ways to be remarkable. (and eddie IS santa, after all). and i like to think the contrast with the rest of me (not completely unfit or over the proverbial hill, though others likely might have differing opinions) gives the white a little something else.

as for socks, i'm amused to recall teasing friends about my needing an affectation in my appearance. you'd be amazed how many people take such flip comments seriously, and i guess, observing the number of odd hats, comb-overs, scarves, tattoos, etc. etc. etc. littering the landscape, they do need to be a bit concerned. no, don't expect to see me smoking clove cigarettes and chugging espressos while wearing a beret in a coffee house anytime soon. i figure the levis are about the worst of it so far, and, yeah, i'm sure that makes me some sort of a cliche, but it's a subtle one to most, so i'm not worried yet.

i'm just the creepy old guy, remember?

bragging

she stood on downhill skis for the first time in her life at 10am. (lessons? bah). by noon she was up and down the lower chair half a dozen times and ready for the summit. (ok, she can haz cheeseburger break for lunch first). first run from the top, windy and hard-packed conditions notwithstanding, she took the left fork halfway down to finish on the blues. (green? bah). let's do it again. self-reported assessment at the end of the day, on a scale of 10? 9. dad's assessment? off the charts. who does stuff like that?

i'm reminded that her brothers have been this way before her, and an example is as important as anything to taking on something new. full marks all around.

caring for

"care about" and "care for" are often miles apart. my past marital experience, confirmed in correspondence with a still-married friend, is that couples quite frequently find themselves loathing to be left responsible for caring for the spouse that they would otherwise say they care about. love in this case has itself become the chore, and it's no wonder that marriage becomes terribly hard for people in this situation. (it sure did for me).

of course, i have better examples in my life now, and an embarrassment of riches when it comes to being cared for. i can't tell you even the first good reason it should be so, but for these loves of my life, they would tell you (at least they tell me--i can only take them at their words) that caring for me is essentially the very thing that makes them care about me. or something like that. (acutally, i think they'd rather tell you that me falling in love with how being cared for makes me feel is the operative process, but, in the end, it is truly all the same). i can tell you first-hand that being cared for in this way, and caring about them in return, is like nothing so much as breathing, and the thought of being without breath, or their care, induces the very same kind of autonomic physiological reaction.

so how is it that two paths can become so divergent?

my sincere belief is that it has nothing to do with the ones doing the caring, either for or about. it is my solemn conclusion that it entirely depends on the ones being cared for and about. close your heart, whether by purpose or accident or even simple oversight, to the gift of care, whether for or about, and you will become yourself the airtight door that closes around your suffocation capsule of loneliness and alienation. you can care for and about someone all you want, and believe in your high-minded ideals of devotion and demonstration, and be the interpersonal equivalent of mother teresa, but the irrefutible evidence, observed through countless failed relationships and miserable marriages, is that you will always end up feeling alone and unappreciated by an alienated spouse, and ultimately become bereft of your own power to unconditionally love.

the real problem here, and the inescapable conclusion, is that it does, indeed, take two. should either one shut down, there's nothing the other can do to save things, no matter how hard they try.

i will tell you that it's my miraculous good fortune that others have found the patience to wait for me to see it. i feel like i let them down every day, for my independence and my reflexive self-sufficiency, and i try to remind myself that asking for what i crave like breathing isn't an imposition, but an opening. they have never hesitated, or, if they have, i'm sure it's been out of gracious care for my stumbling, oafish and clumsy attempts to become, finally, human.

the other day i had opportunity to ask neighbors for a favor. it was a trifling thing, but important to me, and i was not surprised at the universal embrace of it by these wonderful people with whom i share proximity. it was a huge step for me, in a way, but one that came with its own reward, because i could tell how pleased they were to be given the opportunity to care. today i have opportunity to insist that another neighbor take advantage of something in my power to give them, and i'm hopeful it's accepted, but hopeful not for anyone else, but me. in the right circumstances, and in the right relationship, giving, and caring, is truly its own reward.

i'm getting better.

dominoes

this all got started when i read that "one laptop per child" donated 5000 of their little green widgets to the children of gaza whose UN schools were recently destroyed. (you know the background on that story). good on them. cold comfort for those who might be maimed or bereaved of siblings, but, good on OLPC just the same. feeling kinda good...

then things started to slide into iterative irony, to recall that OLPC recently had to lay off half their staff due to, among other causes, loss-leader competition from intel, who today announced layoffs of as many as 10,000 of their own employees--who knows how many of both sets of people might still be employed today if it weren't for the rapaciousness of certain intel market share zealots who were compelled to sell competing machines at a loss in order to defend their chipmaking turf--but that's all water over the financial crisis dam, and there's not much to be done about it now...

fewer laptops per children, fewer families with fair incomes for an honest day's work, and all while we're enjoying the news about bernie madoff's right-hand fundraiser, robert jaffe, refusing to recognize the jurisdiction of a massachusetts court to summons him to answer for all the money that was bilked out of massachusetts investors via jaffe's cohmad securities office in back bay. (conveniently, bernie madoff is also an officer in jaffe's firm, though, as far as i know, nobody has initiated confiscation of either of their personal assets, and that's, in my opinion just as much of a crime, but i digress). oh, and there was also news today about the 96 folks being laid off from ma social services, leaving 3444 clients bereft of their caseworkers, but since there isn't money involved, it's no wonder it's not getting quite as much airplay...

good news, though: barney frank is still smiling in washington, (happy that teddy's brain cancer hasn't killed him yet or something like that by the quotes at the top of the news), and geo dubya bush is now smiling in texas, both without so much as an "i'm sorry" for the mess we're faced to clean up from what they've been letting happen in washington for the past eight years. (yeah, yeah, spare us the CRA whine all you right winguts, we know, we know).

better news, too (seriously this time): BHO is curtailing lobbyist access to the white house.

can't hurt.

still not sure what i think about the lunatic from tennessee who mailed that white powder to the harvard law school over dershowitz's recent legal brief in defense of the israeli military actions in gaza... yes, i know it's wrong, i'm just thinking that it would have been much more satisfying to the spirit of irony would that the assault on dershowitz's office have been accomplished under cover of white phosphorous incendiaries and a few well-placed tank shells. sure, a few other professors next door might have also been killed, but, hey, bad things happen in war.

speaking of banks

i know we weren't here, but a friend of mine was on about having to head out to make a deposit, so i felt myself inspired, and figured i might try to do something similar myself...

here in lowell, there's a local credit union that's as much a part of being a townie as drinking pbr's on draft. (out of the bottle if need be, but you get my drift). this particular credit union offers a "membership account" that pays 7% interest (on the first $500 anyway) and having such an account is useful for gaining auto insurance discounts and special deals on things all over town. great stuff, right?

so when do you suppose they close on tuesdays, if one were wrapping up ones business around 4pm and thinking of taking a stroll? (i ended up going to the grocery store instead, so it's not like i was slacking in my support for the local economy). and then when do you suppose they close on wednesdays, if one were taking a break from ones business closer to noon, and thinking of taking a stroll since such a stroll couldn't be taken the previous afternoon?

a lot of banks close at 4, so i'm not even going to be on about that part, but, no joke, here in lowell, this particular bank closes at 12pm on wednesdays, and i have to scratch my head and wonder what it is that people think when they go into business.

in this space recently we've covered local deli counters closing arbitrarily because their cigarette-infused countermen figure they've done enough for the day, and i guess this is just another one of those local things. (i'm not from around here, remember?) i do know there's an economic downturn happening all around us, but, geez, gimme a break, even when i try to do my part and help some of these local businesses out, they're making it kinda tough.

with the [un]patriot act making it a royal pain in the ass to open a new account even when the banks are open, one might think said banks might be motivated to do what they can to offset that hurdle to their business and keep the money coming in. however, as we've seen, now that we have a socialist monetary system in place, (gee, thanks, republicans--i thought you were supposed to be the folks who didn't believe in such things?) there would seem to be little motivation to work to get ones money "retail", since all one has to do is hold ones hand out in washington and get a bucketful for free and just for the asking. either way, those dutch guys over at ing keep themselves open 24 hours on the web for opening new accounts, and i guess it's little wonder that's the account i've been using for savings so far...

i really would have preferred a local one, but, hey, there's only so far a guy ought to put himself out before he's aiding and abetting sloth and the kind of attitude that promulgated this whole crash in the first place...

besides, a real patriot is *spending* his money these days, right?

consent of the governed

one of the greatest documents ever written, the us declaration of independence, makes a specific point of this:

we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed...

consent of the governed.

think about it.

without consent, it is put to us (to wit, we have put it to ourselves) that there is no just power. as free men and women, endowed by our creator, we are under no authority to which we have not freely subjected ourselves.

this is heady stuff.

(don't call me a boy with issues, call me a patriot).

exporting democracy at the point of a gun, high-minded as it may be, does not seem, to me, to satisfy the spirit of this document. the problem isn't democracy, per se, but the point of whose gun. after all, it doesn't say "consent of the high-minded and altruistic folks of the great us of a". it says "the governed", and unless or until we're eager to truly put ourselves under the jurisdiction of any foreign authority, (like, say, the UN, which is put here for irony, not because i don't recognize that to be as crazy as everyone else knows it to be), i'd say we need to get out of the business of enforcing our authority over any other people, no matter how "good for them" we conclude it to be. the english, after all, were quite convinced it was best for us to remain under authority of their crown back in the day, and nobody would argue that england wasn't to that point in time the most free state in terms of individual rights anywhere on the planet. we just figured we knew better for ourselves, and we fought to ensure our rights to such. and we weren't wrong.

so, back to those with problems with our authority, maybe we should read a bit, (both our declaration of independence as well as those self-help books on problems with autonomy), and concentrate on being a bettter example, rather than an unwelcome referee. perhaps we might go so far as to print a few copies of our declaration in other languages, (arabic springs to mind), and export a little paper, just to let everyone else do with it as they will. just as effective, i might think, would be welcoming as immigrants any of those who feel they want to become part of *our* experiment in self-determination while they're too impatient with waiting for their own. no problem--i'm betting in time word will get back that this isn't such a bad experiment of which to be part.

puts me in mind of how we enslaved whole portions of our population for centuries here, and found our own way to overcome it. i wouldn't have wanted a foreign abolitionist power to invade over our obvious abuse of our own founding principles. i'm thinking, as horrified as we are about practices in these other countries, we might need to take a little historical perspective and not insist all those problems are overcome in a self-righteous instant. (it ought to take a new government elsewhere at least as long to give women the right to education and to a vote as it took here, don't you think?) in my lifetime in this country we have lynched people in trees for the color of their skin, and i can't imagine that gives us too much of a high horse to ride on with others.

but we can and are doing better, so let's keep it up.

boy's got issues

i have a problem with authority.

certain "professionals" will lay that down to family of origin and father issues, and they're likely not wrong about that, but either way, i rather perceive this as a facet of who i am, and not something to be thrown out with any bath water. (if you don't like that attitude, then you can sue me. ;-)

for example, last week, during a soccer game, i was taken to task by dad, i mean the referee, over what he perceived as a "hard challenge". (his words, taken from a conversation held afterwards). i'll tell you that i didn't even make contact with the other player, but the issue is never what happened, rather what the official *perceived* to have happened, and i respect that much, so there you have the first part. of course, my first inclination, badly behaved as it is, was to express disagreement over the call, something to the effect that "c'mon, ref, i got all ball". (soccer-speak for "yeah, i know he fell over, but i didn't do anything wrong so why are you on me about it?") to which said referee replied that i should keep right quiet because i was being called for it, and i could go pound sand for all he cared, but nobody's mind was going to be changed. all fair enough to that point.

my next inclination, better behaved as i thought it was, though not the way dad, i mean the referee saw it, was to announce that i was taking myself off the field and out of the game for that moment because i just shouldn't stay any longer given how i felt about things. this, i know, is disrespectful in that it doesn't acknowledge dad's, i mean the referee's, judgment as being always right, but i do see it as supremely respectful in that it doesn't question that i'm never going to get my way about it. (the petulant equivalent of "i'm taking my ball and bat and going home for the time being" as it were). it was intended to be my one last futile act of defiance, but, for some reason, little men (he was a little man, now that i come to think about it) are often unsatisfied to leave things without getting the last punitive word, so he saw fit to penalize my team for my continued impertinence. (in this particular indoor venue, teams can be forced to play with one less player on the field for two minutes, like a penalty in hockey, if dad, i mean the referee, sees it to be necessary).

so let's recap: i started out doing nothing wrong (you'll have to take my word about that, but you can interview the other team and i'm confident in their corroboration) and quickly became embroiled with my dad, i mean the referee, over my comportment. (not hard for you to imagine, eh?) i decided my own standard of what constituted "respect for authority", which i concluded was satisfied by my loudly announcing my displeasure while at the same time removing myself from the situation as i would be directed to anyway. (see, that's the important part in my small little agitated mind--it's better if i'm doing it of my own volition). and now we get to the real problem:

the way i see it, the little man, i mean my dad, i mean the referee, was wholly disatisfied with being denied the privilege of sending me off, so he pulled out the 2-minute penalty card. upon my perception of his overstepping the bounds of his authority, (the "hard challenge", such as it was, wasn't deemed to deserve any futher penalty beyond the foul call and the free kick in the first place), i responded in my characteristic and derisive fashion, and i quote, "you've got to be fuckin' kidding me". and here's where it all goes off the deep end.

actually, if you were the little man, i mean my dad, i mean the referee, you would point out at this point that it all went off the deep end when i didn't cheerfully take the whistle for the "hard challenge" gracefully and respectfully and let that be the end of it, but, see, by pointing it out to you in this way and making the conclusion about this MY words, (and tossing in the little snide monickers), i'm doing the very same thing and denying said little man, i mean dad, i mean referee his place as the one to announce chapter and verse on the situation, and i'm still not placing myself fully under anyone else's authority.

so what does the little man, i mean dad, i mean the referee insist next? why, of course, i'm to be thrown out of the game entirely. "abusive language" is the letter of the law cited for the call, and i'll leave it to you to decide if "you've got to be fuckin' kidding me" rises to the level of abuse, because i sure can't see it that way, but, then again, you know me, i'm the one here who has these problems with authority. you can bet, once tossed, i was extremely quick to respond with another "you've got to be fuckin' kidding me" or two on my way out, and there you have it.

so, two things:

first, i have a problem with authority. 99% of guys would never have gotten themselves into that ultimate situation, and if you use playing time as your yardstick of the object of taking up a recreational game in the first place, you would be very correct to point out that i've essentially cut off my playing time nose to spite my authority-disrespecting face, and the joke is fully on me. to which, all i can say is i didn't start out by doing anything wrong (very important to us authority-phobes) and i never challenged what i would argue (of course this is all about argument--you know that) is the object of the on-field authority, which is to insist on fair play on the field. (i was taking myself off of it, remember?) fair enough so far.

the second is that one could apply the same pragmatic approach to keeping order on the field as one is tempted to apply to a player's goal of enjoying his or her playing time. if that ref has simply taken comfort in his call being the incontrovertible law of the pitch, (the "hard challenge" whistle was observed, and free kick awarded, and the offending player removed from the field, albeit by his own agency, but we're talking pragmatic here, remember?), he could have enjoyed my exit from his domain and jurisdiction, and let everybody continue enjoying their little thursday night run. but he couldn't do that, now could he?

see, here's where i see two inescapable conclusions:

first, problems with other's autonomy are just as common as problems with other's authority, and, frankly, in a lot of cases, i'm not convinced everything doesn't start with the former. if you are hired as a referee, or courtroom baliff, (see, there's more than just dad in all of this), or what have you, why aren't you just as rigorously held to the objectives of your post, which is not, after all, confrontation, but the achievements of the goal of your domain? (in this case, playing time for all, which is why the little man, i mean dad, i mean the referee has his paying job in the first place, but, oops, there i go again with the derision). if we're ever to be solved of petty abuses of power, aren't we going to need those who would refuse to take it?

but, second of all, and hopefully some small reward for making it all the way through this whining little rant, i look at our seemingly-intractible problems with terrorists and i start to see something interesting. terrorists are the ultimate in badly behaved soccer players. (geez, have i just compared myself to a terrorist--man, you know i've got real problems). armies arrayed against them are the world's ultimate referee, complete with death at their equivalent of the dreaded red card. and we have for whatever reason a complete refusal to respect civilized authority of any kind, and nobody is disputing that, not even the terrorists. so what is our objective here? "teaching them a lesson?" a la the israeli's to hamas in gaza?

i'll tell you the result. said badly behaved soccer player/terrorist goes right out of their head, and being thrown out of the game/civilization is no longer of any consequence, and you can bet your bottom dollar there ain't going to be any lessons learned anywhere today or any day in the future. such simply can never solve the problem. to be able to fire a rocket and threaten one civilian will be deemed sufficient reason to get a pile of red cards from here to the moon, since, as is obvious, you can only get thrown out of a game once, or killed that same exact many times, and it no longer matters one iota in the bizarre problem-with-authority mind.

if anybody is interested in one lunatic's suggestion to end this sort of madness, i'd suggest there needs to be a whole raft of self-help books written on the subject of "problems with autonomy", and they need to be made required reading of every head of state and military commander and tsc employee pushing plastic trays in the airport. you know, just because they refuse to kowtow, it does not mean they are dangerous. wearing a shirt with both roman and arabic script saying "we will not be silent" is NOT being dangerous, though i would argue in the escalation scheme of things, arresting someone with one on IS.

until we figure that out, i don't think we'll be winning any wars on terrorism anytime soon.

or, maybe i've just got a problem with authority...

the new world order

months back, i was struck by some interviews taken with russian veterans of past afghan campaigns, and their resolved solidarity with american soldiers there now. separate from politics and policies and polemics, they understood the objective of the present campaign, and could see themselves as partners in the shared goal to bring civilization to those innocently beset by its absence. today, buried beneath the avalanche of american inaugural hoopla, we receive from us general david petraeus word that supply routes to forces battling incivility in afghanistan have been confirmed through numerous generous and cooperative central asian states, including russia.

i have often rued the mistake i perceive was made after september 11th, 2001, when a us president failed to call the attack what it truly was--not just an attack on the united states per se, but an attack on our one truly global civilization, of which the united states is but the most prominent example. when i read of such cooperation, across old borders of animosity, where governments and their peoples can resolve to make themselves united against the common foe of terrorism, i am encouraged for our chances in this fight. of all obama's words today, i think the ones most pertinent are his admonishment of our adversaries, that they will be judged by their peoples based on what they can build, not just on what they can tear down. it's been true since all this began, and it will be true as what leads us through to the other side.

so let's build something.

it's better to...

over the weekend, while i was having my wonderful one, a few people nearby were obviously going through not quite. one couple were even within 10 feet of sofa-serviced aural bliss up in portland and couldn't find a way to get past making each other miserable instead, which would have been more upsetting if it hadn't been so entertaining at the same time. another individual there at the bar told tales of relationship-inspired disappointments so cliche that it's all one can do not to shake them by the shoulders and ask them if they're even listening to themselves. how is it that people end up with the people they do??? (a question i've been asking myself for decades).

the one that's got me this morning, though, is the married friend who took it upon themselves in blame for "not my best effort", in self-flagellation for their spouse's expressions of disappointment over their christmas gift. wtf??? i guess my experience is not unique--that marital gift-giving is basically like taxes, complete with emotional interest and penalties accrued for not filling out the forms correctly or paying sufficient amount on time. (i'll say it again, as i do about so many things--it's no wonder i'm divorced).

yes, as careful readers will observe, i'm not married these days, and the thing that's hit me squarest between the eyes this past holiday season is that, ironically, now that i'm divorced, i'm being given gifts far more thoughtful and generous than i had ever received while "enjoying" the bonds of matrimony. part of it, i'm sure, is that i'm so much better about receiving them, which isn't to be overlooked among the causes. (mea culpa, and if i had it to do over again, i would). another lion's share has to be attributed to the quality of the people doing the giving, so lets not forget that part. (mea culpa, and if i had it to do over again, i would). the rest i'm going to put down to the fact that the most generous giving isn't taking place anywhere near a traditional gift-giving holiday, and that's the part of the mine field that i think so many people get wrong.

either way, the first rule needs to be NO WHINING. if you didn't get what you want, it's your fault for placing the burden of your happiness onto someone else besides yourself. think about it. if you can't understand what i'm saying, then think about it some more. and then buy it for yourself if it means that much to you, but get off of everybody else's back because you think you're entitled. you're not.

the second rule is that gifts are significant only in how they make someone *feel*. as that friend of mine so ironically already knows, it's better to create a memory than to pass along some soon-to-be-forgotten *stuff*. taking someone out for a meal, or buying them tickets to something they really love, or setting them up with a personal indulgence in their home that they will think of gratefully every morning is far better than patronizing the bloody folks at debeers anyway. (i'm betting next year the same mistake isn't made a second time, or at least we can all hope...)

the third rule is that it's better to give, so if you've been disappointed this holiday season, i'm going to bet it's because you did a lousy job at that part of things. i've still got so much further to go on that, too, but maybe we can all work on it together. i've got some role models for us all, and i'm going to try to think all year on how i can show them each and every day.

lex talionis

legal systems which codify equitable punishments for given transgressions have been around for even longer, (nods, among other, to hammurabi), but the hebrew bible's "eye for an eye" wins hands-down for long-term and popular branding. we all know the expression, and, as humans, we all feel the good sense of it.

so, when i read that 1,300 people have been killed to avenge 13, and that 10,000 are homeless to provide a priveleged few a bit more security in theirs, i'm at a loss for the sheer irony of it.

are all created equal, or are there to be "chosen people"? (it's not 100 eyes for an eye, after all).

it would seem to me today that there can be no reconciliation between the two philosophies. to reject terrorism in all its forms is to certainly reject the systematic oppression and abuse of an entire people, and i can find no justification this morning that my country claims allegiance to another who so obviously fails to share our most basic founding principle. that "ally", in my mind, is no better and no different than the "terrorists" they claim to fight. they are both poison. they are both evil.

if you disagree, then i might suggest the easiest way to change my mind is to change the situation over which its been made up. (marvin gaye sings it best: only love can conquer hate). while idiots still believe that force of arms can ever be capable of overcoming a belief of the heart, we all remain in danger.

the morning after

now that ceasefire and pullout are the israeli army orders of the day, it's been possible to clearly see the conditions under which palestinian civilians have been living since the war on the criminal elements of hamas began. (bbc's story here).

half a million people have been without water since the conflict began. (two days after christmas--have a merry).

four thousand homes are destroyed.

ten thousand people are homeless.

fifty thousand people have been living in refugee shelters.

one thousand three hundred palestians are dead. (no estimates have been given for the number of wounded, or for how many of those casualties were children).

thirteen israelis have been killed.

anyone willing to wager whether hamas is more or less likely to shell israel at their next available opportunity?

friday in portland

yeah, it begs contemplation that i'm become the "creepy old guy" music stalker, but there i was again, early, for the melvern taylor and his fabulous meltones show at local 188 in portland, maine last night, and happy to be so. the way i see it, i can't worry about how it looks, because, frankly, my life is too much fun to be compromising any of it on appearances. it was a perfect evening. and, in case you'd like to share a few words about it, here's the rundown:

1:30 in the afternoon i'm driving down 93 to pick up my partner-to-be-in-crime because the mbta commuter rail is broken down, and there's no telling how long it would otherwise take to get her up to lowell for our take-off. by 2:30 she's been retrieved trackside in west medford, and by 4:30 we're already rubbernecking down the downtown streets of portland reminiscing about all the other times that we'd been there back in the day. (regarding the hour, i'd say, if i'm up at 5am jawing with the chinese again, there's no guilt for going off line early for the weekend, though i appreciate any potential concern). by complete coincidence we roll past local 188 on the way, so by the time we get all the way across downtown to the hotel we're clear on the intelligence of cabs vs 2 mile walks when the temperature flirts with zero. all looking good.

the hotel (hilton garden inn on commercial street, you should try it) was just great. the bed linens were the *good* kind, like you usually don't get in hotels, and the towels and shower and everything else were all you would want for a self-indulgent getaway, without any of the annoying trappings of swank that some places mistake for importance to dilute the experience of a perfect little base station for an intrepid urban assault. we picked up our kitschy little tourist map at the front desk, had 'em mark the highlights we were aiming for with a red sharpie, and hit the streets.

the kid at the desk actually mistook the location of target #1 by a block or so, but after walking around in a circle and asking at their sister restaurant (hugo--it looked way good, but no time, so maybe for later) we got there without any undue mishap. duck fat. their specialties are french fries (fried in duck fat, natch) and milk shakes. (the "five dollar milk shake" costs four bucks, so what's not to like). my goal for the past seems like forever was their poutine, and the extremely personable and helpful kitchen and counter staff were all on it in an instant. i had it, steaming and so good you could even taste it just by the aroma of it, in just a couple of minutes. hand-cut organic maine potatoes, prepared belgian style, deep fried in duck fat, covered in soft, gooey (and sublimely tasty) cheese curd and drizzled with an amazingly deft duck-fat gravy that was both rich, and light, and oh-so-perfect. (here's the menu). top it off with a geary's hsb on draft, and you have heaven on a counter. the food was so good that you could still taste it in your mouth for an hour afterward. i am definitely going back first chance i get.

i'll fast forward to the cab ride from the hotel to the club, but those with a sense of time will note that there was plenty in there for some other things that will have to remain up to the imagination. like i said, it was a perfect evening.

so the cabbie chats maine-speak all the way up the hill to the club, (i love the accent), and we talk about gloucester where i use to live and he use to fish and how crazy it was that the moonies (yeah, those moonies) would run this fleet of skiffs out onto the open ocean to go tuna fishing with a hand line. (i'll have to tell you about it sometime--not much funnier than 100 pound cult kids trying to haul 500 pound fish over the side of a boston whaler). the chat is over all too soon, but no matter, because we're HERE, and the music is next. (well, not exactly next, since website promos promising 10pm didn't exactly match with club flyers advertising 11pm, but the kitchen at local 188 is very good, and we got to enjoy some flatbread and mushroom saute with our gearys and malbec, and there's nothing at all wrong with that).

the club is a great big airy room with various tables and chairs and sofas arranged about in a very social manner, perfect for rearranging as parties grow and shrink and folks make themselves comfortable. the king spot in the room, the big sectional sofa that's dead in front of where the band will set up is already occupied, but the seats at the bar immediately behind are very comfortable, so there's where we stayed. melvern and bob rolled in, dropped off some equipment and took off to check in at their hotel or do whatever, and then dave and johnny showed up and got their stuff set up, and it was on to hopscotch before you knew it. pbr's for melvern and bob, as per usual, and what i think was a gearys for dave, and you gotta respect a guy who can pick a good draft when he sees one. (not sure what johnny might have been into, but it was hard to worry about the band when you had your own drinks to focus on).

so, the high point of the evening? nope, it wasn't the new (to me) cover of "what'll i do", which, by coincidence, is one of the few standards out there to compete with melvern for wonderful melancholy. and it was wonderful, so don't get me wrong about that. we got tiny bubbles, too. but even that wasn't it.

the high point of the evening for me was having a seat to see the face of one particularly winsome beauty--couldn't have been more than mid-to-late twenties--who i knew for a fact had never heard melvern and the boys before. how could i know? because it wasn't even through the very first bars of hopscotch (overture) before the most incredible smile had spread from one of her ears to the other, and i could see *exactly* how i know my face must have looked the very first time i heard this band on my birthday back last summer at the lizard lounge in cambridge. it was the same way my bar-mate's face looked (she was there in august, too) and the same way it happens to so many others. she was high just from the sound of it, and her smile didn't waver but only grew more wondrous and sublime as the evening played on. i could tell she heard them the same way i heard them. at the end of the night, after she had already said goodbye to 3/4's of her table and stayed on with another friend to hear more of the music, she finally rose to leave with her remaining friend who also (though i hadn't been able to see it earlier because of the ways we all were facing) was in a state of euphoria from the music. i could hear them talking about how they were ever going to hear this magic again, and i couldn't resist telling them that the case behind bob had the precious cd's in it, and they should ask him for a pair. and ask they did--one copy each of love songs for losers and fabuloso (all they had in the case, i think) for each of them. lucky girls.

and lucky me, too. after hopscotch (coda) there was yet another personable mainiac cabbie to whisk us back down the hill, and all the comforts of home away from home.

living well is the best revenge, and i had me one helluva dose of revenge last night that's gonna last me for months.

it can't be overscheduled until it takes away the shot at MT&TFM

today is a gauntlet like few others. (careful readers will continue to note the "u" in gauntlet). Virtually I've been to both europe and china already today, and once i hop into the car in an hour it'll be littleton, southboro, littleton again, and westford before wrapping up in tyngsboro for a little soccer to end my day. the climax of all of this coming and going and going is the window that appeared to open up at just the right time so that i might have had a free hour or two at exactly the same time that melvern taylor and his fabulous meltones are gracing the stage at toad in cambridge. (7-9pm, be there!) nothing better. except for the fact that the chinese have now moved the previously scheduled call for tomorrow to 7pm tonight, and now WTF am i gonna do...

friday in portland. friday in portland. friday in portland.

it's come to this...

i can tell you already that it's highly unlikely that israel will give two shakes of a silenced-lamb's tail about whatever the un human rights council will resolve against it, since they've already made no hesitation to bomb the un's gaza headquarters as part of their ground assault on gaza's civilian population centers.

the israeli position, as always, is that their forces took fire, so they fired back.

their philosophy, similar to that of our outgoing administration, would have us believe that a dozen civilians, dead by the hands of criminals, justify the systematic suppression/oppression of an entire people by military force. (our numbers from 9-11 were a little higher, but so are the hundreds of thousands of iraqi and afghani dead). we and the israelis can spout platitudes about freedom all we want, but every dead child is simply a dead child, and i would suggest that no people can be free and at the same time complicit in such atrocity.

just so you can set your calendar ahead on what can happen in a "free" republic where freedoms are placed second to "security", (and if you don't see the potential parallels to us in the US, then you are kidding yourself), the israeli beiteinu party has sponsored successful legislation that bans some arab-heritage israeli politicians from the knesset, on grounds that they are not loyal citizens. only the israeli supreme court can overrule it. terrifying to me like no fallen building could ever be.

read what it's like to be a palestinian-israeli today from the bbc. then read martin niemoeller's words and THINK ABOUT IT:

"in germany, they came first for the communists, and i didn't speak up because i wasn't a communist; and then they came for the trade unionists, and i didn't speak up because i wasn't a trade unionist; and then they came for the jews, and i didn't speak up because i wasn't a jew; and then... they came for me... and by that time there was no one left to speak up"

eat fresh

downtown lowell is most remarkable to me for it's almost-total lack of chain establishments. true, on one end of the main part of merrimack street there's a CVS and a dunkins, and on the other a subway, but other than the barnes & noble affiliation of the umass lowell bookstore in the middle, everything and everywhere in between comprises a completely unique experience. there's almost no place in the world quite like it, and it's a wonderful thing.

those of us who live downtown are naturally protective of our little commercial ecosystem, reminded daily by the still-remaining empty storefronts that things can absolutely go either way. because of this, we're not only loyal in defense of all our favorite establishments, but also even to everything that's not quite. ironically, these defensive impulses can lead to some odd opinions and behavior.

for example, the arrival of the "mr. jalapeno" mexican lunch counter was met with a small bit of (still lingering) resentment, that it appeared to overlap in business objective with the popular tex-mex "mambo grille" across the street, as if there were but a finite pool of customers to be had, and that one business would inevitably have to survive at the expense of the other. however, it also put me in mind of las vegas casinos and landsdowne street night clubs and all sorts of other obvious examples of why creating a destination rich with options is exactly what causes finite pools to become seemingly infinite ones, but, of course, few people seem to think like me...

in contemplating the upcoming fresh fruit and bread grocer, i'm reminded that the deli counter at "olive that and more" is just a few steps away. stories of its past suggest it's but a shadow of its former self, with a shrinking selection of not quite so fresh offerings prepared by a cigarette-infused counterman (who wants to have a sandwich that smells like marlboro lights?) who routinely closes long before posted hours and basically whenever he feels like it. (the owner has become somewhat absentee). to me, in my perverse economic darwinism frame of mind, i cannot wait for there to be competition for my dollar, and i have no fear for the economy of my neighborhood that a business therein might be on that long slow slide towards dissolution.

FRESH BREAD for cripes sake. it's a GOOD thing.

there's a convenience store just opened down the block that seems to be teetering on the edge, too. (nobody ever goes in there to the point of it becoming kinda creepy). it's all nice that there are people investing in my neighborhood, and don't get me wrong, but it's also nice that there seem to be some people who understand that there's a market for what people want, and not for what they don't. a few high-quality establishments, refined by competition and rewarded by neighborhood loyalty, are what i'd like outside my front door. if it takes a couple of extra empty storefronts along the way, until the neighborhood gets it right, then that's a good thing.

the sun and everything to love

they're still running nonsense on the op-ed page, but my local paper has nevertheless and almost in spite of themselves once again delivered for me. planned to open in march, just down the block from shangri-lowell itself, will be a presently-unnamed grocery, to specialize in fresh fruit & bread, as well as many other wonderful things. (story here).

FRESH BREAD!!!

when there is no right answer

elected officials are often both corrupt and stupid. (illinois' blagoyevich, et al). civil servants, too. (tyngsboro water district's choate, et al). observing that term limits simply push the balance of potentially-corrupt power and stupidity in one direction over the other, which way should someone vote? (i'll give you my suggestion in a minute)

military power is the immediate source of both oppression and liberty. (from the deadly white-phosphorous showers over gaza to today's revelation that a national guard analyst in worcester was harrassing his ex girlfriend with abuses of drivers license and drug investigation databases). observing that most things we've been waging war upon these days (drugs, the taliban, etc.) are doing clearly better than our own economy, not to mention our freedoms as americans, in which direction should we choose to marshall our forces? (my first suggestion is NOT to be drafting resolutions expressing support for the maiming of innocent civilians, but more in a minute).

presidential administrations are given both credit and blame for that which happens on their watch, and generally in perfect correlation to the biases among those passing judgment. (i'm still waiting for a right-winger to bring up bill clinton's budget surplusses without mentioning either the republican congress or the community reinvestment act, just as surely as i'm still waiting for any left-winger to properly connect barney frank to the inadequate regulatory oversight of fannie and freddie from his seat as the ranking democrat on the house financial services committee). yet powers specifically reserved by our founding fathers for our congress alone have been perverted in deference to illegal usurpation by the executive branch (tell me mssrs bush and cheney, do you recall which branch of government possesses sole power to declare war?) and there's no possible way to argue that this has been the single worst presidential administration in the history of our country without facing the hard truth that every corruption, war crime, (i'd say waging war against a sovereign state on false pretenses while in full knowledge that said pretenses were false has to qualify) and blunder was actively aided and abetted by our elected representatives in congress.

my answers to all of the above are that we ourselves alone bear responsibility for this mess because of one singular failing: we as a country have preferred to chose sides rather than our best sense and true patriotism. (and a special expression of disgust and outrage that either side might use terms like patriotism, or "true america" or what have you, to disparage the other). for everyone who considers themselves, or characterizes others, as either right or left, not to mention republican or democrat, i say i blame YOU. (and me as the shoe fits--i'm not trying to avoid personal culpability here). think about it--by standing with one against the other, we have ensured that neither will ever be placed beneath OUR power, which is where they both belong in the first place. and that's got to change.

this past week, interspersed among our sports and our prime-time tv, we have watched howie long give voice to petty, manipulative emotional games being played with our national truck-buying impulses. in favor of chevrolet's better gas mileage, (apparently and ironically just about the only positive thing GM has to say about the quality and design of their trucks these days), he derisively calls the ford f150's more-convenient cargo access "man steps". (i have to take my hat off to howie--he does low-key, condescending macho derision more deftly than any other actor i've ever seen). against dodge, he's on about their heated steering wheel. (something i'm reminded each cold january lowell morning is not a bad idea on any vehicle, but apparently chevy doesn't want me to ever have one). against toyota, howie gets an assist from his puffy, quasi-effeminent foil to have the phrase "v-6" spoken in a higher register, as if your manhood is measured directly and only from your cylinder count. in each one of the three cases, in excuse for chevrolet having neither cargo access conveniences, nor comfortable winter operation, we are simply offered the ridicule of the competition as reason for making our choice.

W
T
F

can we all now see it's just like the tenor of our present political "debate"?

we need to cut this crap right out, and toss the whole lot of 'em who insist it's the only way. ron paul, (my failed choice for president), was one of only a handful of congresspeople who called H Res 34 for what it is. until expressions of opinion like that are in the non-partisan majority, we will never be out of this mess we are in today.

what's the first "real story" you're waiting to hear now that we have regime change here in the us?

in my lifetime, almost too good for pulp fiction, eisenhower had kay summersby, jfk had marilyn, (and who knows how many others, but lets all agree that marilyn by herself is quite enough), lbj just had a lot of stories about drinking down at the ranch, but he wasn't a very handsome man now was he, tricky dick really let us down vis a vis the nickname, but managed 18 1/2 minutes of blank tape and endless fascination nonetheless, gerry ford played it for slapstick, (which must have been what drove betty to drink), jimmy carter lusted in his heart, ronnie reagan lost his marbles so nancy had to play with her own itty bitty gun instead, bush senior occupied the white house with what sure looked like his mother so nothing to see there, but bill clinton, well, bill clinton topped 'em all and we'll never think about dry cleaning the same way again.

so, just like dry cleaning and how it's all supposed to come out eventually, i was wondering today exactly which bit of secret-keeping is going to prove the most entertaining for the rest of us about geo dubya's 8 years on pennsylvania avenue. my early vote, though i'd be interested to hear yours too and reserve the right to change my mind several times as there's likely to be some doozies we've all missed, is the little leak/peek we got a couple of years back when the secret service flew in a special presidential porta-potty so that the executive feces wouldn't fall into enemy hands while on a state visit to austria. (link here to the original story from the guy who broke it).

yeah, i've heard all the cloak and dagger opinions, about having to protect the head ass of state against poop-stealing spooks who might be out to uncover enemy medical secrets, a la what we were doing to gorby's conglomerations on his visits back in the day, but i'm not buying any of that. nope, i'm with kucinich and the others who are wondering if he's really been playing with a full deck over the past few years, though my theory of choice, unlike dennis's, and only reinforced by recent video of the "five presidents" luncheon at the white house, (seth meyer's line on snl's weekend update was the best i've heard--"afterwards there was a fight over who would pay the lunch bill, but eventually they all agreed that they would just leave it up to future generations"), is that bush is back on the sauce and who knows how many other prescription medications, just like his dad, and they just aren't telling us about it. (a little halcyon, anybody?)

mark my words--someday soon some secret service guy is going to tell us what we're all waiting to hear, and i'm telling you, nobody is going to be surprised in retrospect.

in a word...

in his farewell press conference, geo dubya bush acknowledged both mistakes and disappointments. for the latter, he offered a couple of beauts: "abu ghraib obviously was a huge disappointment during the presidency" and that's fair enough, since we were all disappointed, though some of us just as much for the fact that there was no one found accountable for the shame of it all, as for the inexcusability of it, but here's the "disappointment" that says it all:

"not having weapons of mass destruction was a significant disappointment."

i bet it was. geraldo rivera was disappointed when al capone's safe was opened empty on national tv, as well, though i'm guessing geraldo hadn't had to suppress any reliable intelligence as to the emptiness of its contents before proving to himself and to the world what an ass he is. (and, besides, nobody died, and there's that too).

the rules

in geopolitics, it's fascinating to learn what's *not* against the rules. for example--dropping incendiary munitions on people isn't prohibited, nor is dropping incendiary munitions on civilian people, either. incendiary weapons, according to "The Convention on Prohibitions or Restrictions on the Use of Certain Conventional Weapons Which May be Deemed to be Excessively Injurious or to Have Indiscriminate Effects [you can't make this stuff up] Protocol III: Incendiary Weapons", are only specifically restricted in cases where "the civilian population as such, individual civilians or civilian objects, [is] the object of attack". (i did not have sex with that woman...")

you or i might be tempted to read such language and think, "gee, maybe we shouldn't shoot these things off where they might hurt people", but if you were a commander of US forces near fallujah in 2004 you would have denied this to be of concern in *your* particular use of the gadgets, though only after you were compelled to lie about it in the first place which kinda gives you a clue as to whether or not it was actually a sporting decision.

so today we learn that certain commanders of israeli forces attacking civilian areas in gaza have endorsed the 2004 US fallujah position by the sincerest form of flattery. yup, they've gone ahead and insisted that the rules, such as they are, don't apply to them in their case, though, observing a picture being worth 1000 words, i'll just say this:



we've engaged in much geopolitical nation-wrestling to try to pre-emptively deny certain states the ability to use weapons that we would like to insist should be against the rules. and, you know, it's not that i'd want any of them to have the least whiff of any of these things, from incendiaries to clusters (remember how israel set off a whole barrage of them in 2006 right before the cease-fire kinda like kids lighting off the rest of their firecrackers before the principal comes, only instead of a little noise we had a lot of dead people, but who's counting) to nuclear what-have-you, but i have to admit i'm scratching my head this morning as to how we're going to convince any of 'em to take us seriously while we and our "allies" are straight-faced in front of the press swearing that, in *OUR* cases, such rules shouldn't apply.

all that's not quite fit to print

i got to the end of the previous post, and realized that it was quite naturally at its conclusion. my respect for what little sense i have for the written word compelled me to hit "publish" at the proper moment, and i don't regret it, but you know there's always more that doesn't make its way into the paper, and, in the interest of sharing the more obscure bits, i'll dare to toss in a little more...

i hinted a little about my beer consumption friday night, and lets just say that understatement isn't always impossible for me, despite the hyperbole that generally takes over when i'm writing here. i was "in my cups", as they say, and not unintentionally so. it's the privilege of living where i do, and having such wonderful things right down my block. yes, i took full advantage, and i do mean full. can't remember how many, but lets just say it managed to be enough even while not being too many to remember a few other things about my evening.

one of them was a t-shirt sported by another of the more enthusiastic fans at the show. one of my companions imputed a particular socio-economically characteristic controlled substance being involved, and i'm not saying she's necessarily wrong, but just that i can hardly find fault with (never) too much happy when i'm experiencing the very thing myself. and in that state of never too much happy, the words on his t-shirt tickled me like i can hardly convey. "not every witch lives in salem". i gotta get me one. gotta. even if i can never wear it out in public. gotta.

i was so happy, that when i ran across his path in the classic lowell party bar we all retired to after the show, i was compelled to buy him a drink for no better reason that he was part of making my night everything that it was. who knows--if i run into him again the next time we cross paths, (which happens to us all here in shangri-lowell), i'm quite likely to buy him a drink again. (you know--not all of them do). it's another of the beautiful reasons to love lowell.

the other antidote

reading about others misfortunes can indeed place us in better mind about our own, but there is nothing in even the darkest corners of schadenfreude to hold a candle to great music in your own neighborhood on a friday night. i had to be reminded how many beers, (a LOT), but i can still do a reasonable job on the set list, and that's the way it should be.

right from the top, peter lavender came to please, and please he did. "when the truth's what you need" is one of my favorite songs from his latest collection, and he came right out with it to start the night:

"i finally saw the elephant
why'd it take so long..."

words to live by if ever there were.

he sprinkled in a few new ones, and all the tasty old ones, and got a huge boost from one of the more talented lineups around, with (de facto) lowell house drummer bob nash combining with bassist dave bellenoit to put a great solid backbone behind things for carl johnson and peter l. and scott riccuiti to play their guitars and sing all over the top. ok, well carl wasn't singing nearly as much as the other two, but he chimed right in when it came around to carl perkins' "honey don't", and it was a whole lot of fun. the highlight of the night for me was getting blown away by the sound of peter's "out of our hands", which came right on the heels of "honey don't", and led to the penultimate song, "dwelling on tomorrow". have you ever heard something for the very first time in your life and marveled? oh, "out of our hands" sounds fine on the record--no question--but the sound that was built in that room friday night was ethereal. amazing.

i used the word penultimate a moment ago, because "dwelling on tomorrow" was both the end of the printed set list, as well as the intended capstone of the evening. but, no, peter wasn't quite done, and as god is my witness and as the deepest cover song i think has ever been attempted live without rehearsal in the history of live music, and with the eager encouragement of scott riccuiti who must have more than a few pieces of americana vinyl himself if he could play and harmonize so naturally right along, peter, with both a straight face and a huge smile, dove right into the partridge family's "point me in the direction of albuquerque" and, to the utter amazement of my tablemate, and to the delight of the room, remembered each and every word, all the way through. smiles all around--a wonderful evening.

what threatens us?

also perhaps important to be defined is what, exactly, might constitute a threat to us as americans.

armed invasion to overthrow our government and subjugate our people, a la the british in 1812, seems pretty clear. (cost: 2260 KIA)

belligerent dictators with bad human rights records and even a demonstrated history of maltreating both their citizens and their neighbors, but possessed of neither means nor interest in harming us, would seem less so. (cost: 3403 KIA and counting)

i've often tried to point out to whoever might listen that terrorists could knock down 2 WTC buildings like clockwork every september and still not make a meaningful statistical dent in either our GDP or our population. (our doctors kill more people BY ACCIDENT every year than we've ever lost on purpose to so-called terrorists).

by invading iraq and taking on the perpetual loss of life, not to mention flushing $10 billion dollars a month down the sewer hole where our national economy used to be, we've done more to damage our own country (and threaten our ideals of freedom) than those terrorists could ever have dreamed.

but could you imagine the conversation? "gee, my brother in terrorist arms, how could we possibly think of a way to kill a thousand americans every year, along with burning through hundreds of billion of their national treasury, while forcing them to barter away their ideal of freedom in the process, when we have neither the means nor the know-how to wage such a war?"

"i know, we'll knock down a couple of buildings and then let them do it all for us"

one thought...

in airing a "bomb israel" rant, i realize i'm treading into dangerous waters, where intense emotions and extreme disagreement are inevitable. and so i had a thought.

here in the united states, we threw off the yoke of oppression so that all of us could be free. in fighting (and in many cases dying) for that freedom, it occurs to me that honest disagreements can remain as to whether we were and are fighting for freedom for ourselves, or freedom as a divine ideal.

much of today's foreign policy disagreements between right and left, republican and democrat, hawk and dove, could be made more civil if we could all identify ourselves and ourpositions as in favor of preserving *our* freedoms as practical americans, vs mankind's freedoms as idealistic americans, of which i know we all are both. (after all, and consistent with my philosophy of "put the oxygen mask on yourself before trying to help others", it would do the world no good if we allowed harm to come to what lincoln once perfectly described as "the last best hope of earth" before we were able to realize our higher ideals).

clearly the latter (idealism) cannot stand without the former (pragmatism). if perhaps we could agree when the former isn't threatened, (e.g. in gaza), we could come to a consensus on what jesus, mohammed, ghandi, or any red-blooded idealistic american would or should do.

i would say that practical politics have little place when we aren't threatened, and children are dying.

opportunity

if we're serious about an ultimate goal of peaceful global coexistence with civilized non-terrorist-supporting muslim states, i can think of no better opportunity than to kick israeli ass over their barbaric blood fued with the ostensibly defenseless civilian population of gaza. a couple of heads on a pole is a time-honored tradition in the eye-for-an-eye world of old testamenters, so just imagine the global goodwill engendered by a targeted us air strike against the personal residence of a senior israeli army commander...

or would targeting civilian dwellings be considered terror?

that's good, because if it's not terror we can do it, and if it IS terror we can do it in retaliation against those israeli army terrorists who did the very same in gaza the other day.

blast 'em back to the stone age. very few times i feel like saying such a thing, but here's the perfect time to do it.

sleeping on it

having slept on all of yesterdays frustrations, the one i keep returning to this morning is the situation in gaza. let me ask you:

if any other country in the volatile areas to the southwest of our allies in europe (short of areas close or contiguous to russia, for realpolitikal reasons) attacked a nearby population with wide-scale deadly force, producing numerous collateral civilian casualties and destroying art and education infrastructure, not to mention water, power and sanitary facilities, what would be our response?

lebanon... kuwait... bosnia... afghanistan... iraq... (there's more, but i think those are the big ones over the last 20 years).

so why are we remaining mute and impotent regarding gaza??? why haven't we rolled tanks to stop the carnage, or if we don't have the christian balls to do at least that much of what's right, delivered a smart bomb or two in defense of civilian lives? and if our balls are still too small for even that, why haven't we at least declared embargo, or demanded a un security council condemnation, or some such paper tiger move like that that we seem always to trot out whenever north korea or some other axis of evil misbehaves?

i love my country.

it's my government of which i'm ashamed.

we need to do a much better job of setting our example, and picking our friends.

you can't feel badly for yourself when you read what's happening in gaza

this today from yahoo's news headlines. israeli troops have fired on and killed two un aid workers.

the bbc has begun posting a blog from an aid worker in gaza, and reading the entries every day is becoming more and more heartwrenching and humbling.

i cannot help but feel, as an american citizen, party to and thus partially responsible for the israeli aggression, patterned as it is after my own government's harsh treatment of iraq, and further enabled by our strident diplomatic umbrella extended to and exploited by our "anti-terrorism" allies around the world.

which have been more terrorized? the hundreds of dead palestinians, or the handful of dead israelis? in one strike, israel murdered more civilians (39 taking refuge in a un school where they had been told to move in order to be safe) than they have lost during the entire conflict. there is literally nowhere for the gazan innocent to hide from the terror being inflicted by the israeli military. per the reports, 60% of gazans are without power and fresh water. read this and tell me what you can possibly think:

"The international Red Cross also accused Israel of hindering rescuers from reaching areas devastated in the battles. Ambulances could not get to the Zeitoun neighborhood for four days because the Israelis had blocked access with large earthen barriers, officials said.

When they were allowed in Wednesday, the rescuers "found four small children next to their dead mothers in one of the houses. They were too weak to stand up on their own. One man was also found alive, too weak to stand up," the ICRC said in a rare public statement. "In all, there were at least 12 corpses lying on mattresses" in one of the houses."

i am ashamed to be led by any man for whom these actions warrant no immediate miltary response in defense of those terrorized by a malevolent power. if they were bosnians, what would we be saying and doing? if they were kuwaitis, what would we be saying and doing? these people deserve absolutely nothing less.

revenge

in honor of george herbert, and in complete denial that anything other than fresh air and sunshine has gone on today, i'd like to say that i'll be front-and-center down at mickey's tomorrow night for the show, and that my tab is guar-on-teed to make the bartender's night.

go bruins!

the gift that keeps on giving

just in case you're wondering...

i still don't feel better. one likes to think that venting ones frustrations might help just a little bit with them, but i guess the real joy of divorce is discovering that the moment you give slightest thought about such, even with all the best intentions of just unloading them innocently onto to the world at large in a little therapeutic venting exercise, they actually just get worse.

that guy suing his ex for the kidney? i don't care how wrong it is, i still understand where he's coming from.

irony

i know there are a lot of possible definitions to the term "irony", but i think i've discovered the sine qua non of the genre that will make all others jealous with feelings of etymological inadequacy.

i'm getting divorced. i'd say "i'm divorced", except for the niceties of "judgment nisi" and the fact that even after the court says you are, they still reserve the right to torture you for a few more months before you can actually claim the term officially and irrevocably. so maybe we should say i'm "divorced nisi" or something, but here's the real screwy part:

as part of the judgment in my case, i'm agreed with my ex to transfer a certain amount of retirement funds from my 401k to her IRA account in order to make things "even". (though there never, ever, EVER is such a thing in a divorce, no matter which side you're on, but that's neither here nor there). so, in the pursuit of this particular concept of "even", i dutifully filled out all the paperwork one normally must in order to ask ones 401k provider to send along the dough, and passed it along to the court for the judge's signature, which is required before the IRS rules say the 401k outfit can disburse funds without withholding a huge chunk of it.

so, anyway, in the infinite wisdom of the presiding judge (or his or her clerk who is miscarrying justice in his or her stead) in the middlesex county courthouse in cambridge, massachusetts, the request for the signature can't be approved because, apparently, you can't just voluntarily ask to give money to your ex spouse without it being assumed you are up to something sinister that necessitates a special trip into the courthouse to appear before said magistrate and explain to him or her just what it is that you think that you're up to.

i dunno... i thought i was giving money to my ex spouse just like we agreed in court just a little while back.

so, salt in the wound, insult to injury, and rise of the littlest men to be as rude as can possibly be, i found myself arriving at said courthouse bright, early and promptly at 8am (after a two hour commute down to cambridge from lowell no less) in order to stand in all the right lines, and carry just all the right paperwork, to appear in all the right places where a judge would and should (hopefully) be able to hear my plea to be raped financially one more time by my rapacious ex and her insatiable desire for there to be "more". all well and good so far...

so some time after 9:30am, an hour and a half beyond the time i was told to show up, and an hour beyond the time i was secondarily promised that a judge could see me, and half an hour beyond the time i was tertiarially promised that a judge could see me, (maybe, because nobody really knows when it comes to judges), i was still waiting on the benches in the back in the proper courtroom, and beginning to sweat just a little because the job at which i toil to make all this grudging generosity to my ex possible was expecting me for an important meeting in 30 minutes, and missing it would be the ultimate in NOT GOOD. so i went to the clerk in the hallway taking the files and preparing the docket if she could help me recover my file so that i could return it to the scheduling desk so that they could reschedule my little trip to hell, and found that the cheesy-smelling and incredibly stupid guy in the white shirt with the shoulder radio and cuffs at his belt was objecting to the fact that i had the temerity to be checking my blackberry for my appointment schedule, which is absolutely against the court rules and in no uncertain terms grounds for my ejection forthwith.

trust me, i had no objection to being ejected forthwith, except for the fact that the clerk had told me to be standing there to receive my file, so the increasingly agitated commands to STEP BACK from the little, little man were kinda making me laugh a little bit more than find for me a suitably chastened and respectful face, which was only making the whole scene both funnier and a whole lot worse.

fucking amazing.

you want to get a signature so that you can give the money agreed to your ex, and they won't give it to you, and neither will they give you the time of day for when you might show up and get it. and, on top of the whole thing, you get a little skinny legged, pasty-faced man with a bad combover AND a pannus (i am so happy to have learned a new word recently) who is acting as if you've just tripped dick cheney's master homeland security swithc and are going to become swat-fodder in two shakes of a PDA's tail...

i am SOOOOO close to just calling up the ex and saying, and i will use this exact phrase, believe you me, "FUCK IT".

she can drive to cambridge before the sun comes up to sit on a bench waiting all morning for a judge who may or may not show in order to get a signature on the right paperwork so that i can be all that much poorer with the stroke of a pen. of course, as i type this, i realize i can never do this because it will only hurt me in my efforts to maintain a good relationship with the person who otherwise keeps me from my kids, and because i'm quite sure if she asked for the signature they wouldn't allow it because bureaucracy works like that, or doesn't work like that as the case may be.

if anybody needs to reform government and save money, i can suggest one courthouse where they're wasting a whole lot of it.

a question for arlen spector

mlb has handed phillies reliever jc romero (remember him, sox fans?) a 50 game suspension to start next season for having tested positive for a banned substance. (yes, that jc romero who won two of the phillies four world series victories against the tampa bay rays last year).

so, arlen, when should we expect to hear senatorial calls for a thorough investigation?

like an idiot who doesn't know his ass from his elbow

one of my first rules for indulging my penchant for local news via my local newspaper, the lowell sun, is to never read the op-ed page, and to ever take anything found there seriously.

i've also been in a fascinating personal conversation with a friend of mine regarding media-broadcast personal disagreements. (first rule there, never get into an argument with an idiot lest a bystander have trouble telling the difference).

so here i go breaking all the rules...

in today's sun a particularly and consistently assinine syndicated columnist spouts off about a cadre of state governors petitioning washington for financial assistance, characterizing them "like pigs lining up to the trough". his particularly and strikingly ignorant arguments center around things like "democrats never worry about deficit when they spend more than the government takes in", and the emergence of a "formula for socialism" in trying to maintain current services in the face of declining revenues.

all seemingly sensible at face value, until you start to think: (and i'm saving the best for last, so skip to the bottom if you're in a hurry).

first of all, the only federal administration to achieve a budget surplus in my lifetime was a democrat's, and the obscenely enormous debts being racked up today are a direct result of a republican's administration's failed policies and no one else's. yup, in both cases they were aided by guys and gals from the other side of the aisle, but that's exactly the point--this current mess is the failure of PARTY POLITICS in general, not one party's politics in specific. using party labels in the discussion is disengenuous at best, and patently ridiculous if you think about it at all, and it only serves to perpetuate the coke vs pepsi nature of the stalemate, instead of injecting signs of healthy and intelligent life into our political soda aisle.

second of all, and this is the part that's got me steamed the most, this "trough" that these governors are lining up to "exploit" is none other than the very federal treasury that their citizens actually pay excess taxes into every year in order to cover the giant sucking welfare drain of all the other states who have always run a deficit between what they pay into the federal treasury and what they take out. here's a link to a recap of federal spending per state per dollar of federal taxes paid. of the governors asking for support, only ohio's enjoys a payment surplus, and that only marginally. every other mothers son among the group represents states who provide the engine by which all the other actual welfare states are coddled. check out new jersey: they're routinely robbed of .39 cents out of every dollar they pay in, and now someone would have us believe they're crazy for asking for a little of that back???

so who are the socialists? the folks who are asking for a little support for all they continue to do in subsidy to the government? or the bleating mindless sheep who cry "democrat" just like little boys might cry wolf in their never-ending quest never to be questioned about why they just can't seem to ever pay their own way?