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February 01, 2003
In 1986, I was in ninth grade. I was in school on January 28, when the space shuttle Challenger exploded. There was a group of kids in the library, watching the launch, and while I was not among them when it happened, when the word spread throughout the school I asked to be excused from class to go to the library and see for myself. Atypically, the teacher agreed, and I went, and I watched, twice.
At home, I had a very detailed model of the space shuttle, that I "overbuilt" with my inexperienced hands...a little too much glue, a little too much putty along the seams, lots and lots of paint. By the time it was done the thing weighed so much that it fell off of the ceiling a few days after I hung it up, and required still more putty to fix its hull where it split open. The model kit had come with name decals for all of the shuttles in the program: Columbia, Discovery, Challenger, Atlantis, and the Enterprise prototype. By prescience or coincidence, I had chosen the name Challenger. I had the "Space Shuttle Operator's Manual" on my bookshelf, a thin blue volume with fold-out pages depicting all of the shuttle's flight deck control panels, and nifty diagrams of various systems and mechanisms. This was the 1982 edition of the book, back before they replaced all of the cockpit avionics and dials and gauges with flat-panel LCD displays, so there was an abundance of knobs and switches and toggles, all very spaceship-like. I dug out the book this morning, and it's on my desk next to me, right now.
I remember a kid named Joe. Kinda dumb, would have been a bully if he had more focus, that kind of kid. In the lunchroom that day, he was enthusiastically recounting the Challenger explosion, making what he thought were funny comments. Now, I was not an imposing kid in any sense of the word, and I wasn't popular. But I looked at Joe, and I said to him, "What the hell is wrong with you? People are dead."
Such was my tone that not only did he shut up, he actually looked shamed.
And now, almost seventeen years to the day since the Challenger disaster, the Joes of the world have Internet access, and they work for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation.
What the hell is wrong with you people?
Iraqis Call Shuttle Disaster God's Vengeance
Feb 1--BAGHDAD (Reuters) - Immediate popular reaction in Baghdad on Saturday to the loss of the U.S. space shuttle Columbia and its seven-member crew -- including the first Israeli in space -- was that its was God's retribution on Americans.
"We are happy that it broke up," government employee Abdul Jabbar al-Quraishi said. "Especially because there was an infant-devouring Jew aboard."
"God wants to show that his might is greater than the Americans. They have encroached on our country. God is avenging us," he said. When asked how he would react when 800 precisely targeted American cruise missiles completely destroyed his government's infrastructure and ability to fight, Mr. al-Quraishi had no comment.
Car mechanic Mohammed Jaber al-Tamini noted Israeli air force Colonel Ilan Ramon was among the dead when the shuttle broke up shortly before its return to earth.
"Israel launched an aggression on us when it raided our nuclear reactor without any reason (in 1981), now time has come and God has retaliated to their aggression," Tamini said.
An unnamed Pentagon source said that the military is "aware of the GPS coordinates for 'al-Tamini's Garage,'" but stressed that there are "no plans to turn it into a smoking crater."
"That could change," he added.
When asked about the comments of government employee Abdul Jabbar al-Quraishi, he said, "God's might may be 'greater' than ours, but ours has an accuracy of three meters."
Copyright 2003 Reuters News Service. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
February 02, 2003
A point that I feel I should make about one of yesterday's posts: it's not really the "Iraqis" per se that I meant to skewer, it was Reuters. Hence the publishing, rewriting, and redistribution of their editorial-disguised-as-news. As an organization--particularly as a "wire service"--Reuters is infuriatingly biased. They are as close to a pure propaganda source as you will find these days. Doubtless, there are in fact some Iraqis who feel just as the "sources" quoted by Reuters do, and in that case...well, they don't get to have any fun once their favorite regime has been toppled.
Which brings to mind something else that I've been chewing on the past few days, namely, this somewhat overwrought post over at the Agonist. Short summary: war is bad. You warmongering types make me sick. Long summary: war is bad. You warmongering types make me sick. I will publicly flay you so that everyone knows that the support I offer to the regrettable necessity of war is morally correct and suitably reluctant.
The assumption here seems to be that all those who support the war without making appropriate noises acknowledging its dreadful seriousness are inhuman monsters who will revel knee-deep in the blood of their vanquished foes, wear their livers for hats and make amusing wall hangings from their intestines. Additionally, these orc-like fiends are cowards, relying upon the sacrifices of others to obtain their hepatic chapeaus and duodenal macramé. What the author seems to have ignored is the distinct possibility that, among the pro-war community, the dreadful seriousness of war is a given, and does not require constant acknowledgment. I won't address the tired "chickenhawk" slur, which has been more than adequately dealt with elsewhere.
I draw attention to this particular bit of posturing because, while I found it to be unnecessarily judgmental and sweepingly moralistic, not to mention profane, it made me think about some of my own writings about the war. This doesn't mean that I'm allowing the rant credibility, any more than a laquered pile of dogshit under glass gains validity by making those who see it briefly consider whether it's art or not. What I think I finally found at the root of this particular bit of spume was a postmodernist conception of the power of words, and far beneath that, a Pharisee's faith in the efficacy of public prayer.
Now, what do I mean by that obscure bit of jargonism?
To begin with, I have found that there is a certain tendency along the leftward side of things (as it is defined today) to behave as though the words used to describe a thing can change the reality of the thing. Noam Chomsky--who is by no coincidence a linguist--is currently the foremost practitioner of this art. At the point of his capable pen, America is transformed from the world's best attempt at a free society into the greatest imperial oppressor history has ever known, intent only on exercising its own power upon the global stage. From that transformation, all of his arguments flow. He works deep within the root words of language, and from that work he builds imposing edifices that are very persuasive once you have accepted his terminology and the definitions of the words that he uses. It's a very powerful technique. Faith in this same technique has given us the terms "person of size," "[ethnic]-American," "differently-abled," and so on, all of which are intended to change the reality of a social situation simply by changing the terminology used to describe that situation.
However, to someone who does not share that faith, words in and of themselves do not hold the same, mystical power. This is why the insertion of academic parlance into public discourse hasn't appreciably changed the state of race relations in this country, or kept Jay Leno from making fat jokes. The problem in this particular culture is that such terminological manipulation often runs up against the finely-tuned American "bullshit detector." At some level, most of us know that it's not really the words that matter. It is usually the reality of the action taken, rather than any description of the action, that determines whether we'll swallow any given language-pill.
This works both ways: someone who has faith in the power of words in and of themselves to change the reality of a situation will read someone else's words, and lend to them a power that they may not posess. Thus, when a pro-war author pens words describing the prospect of war with something less than grave seriousness, the word-power believer finds within that ommission the total lack of grave seriousness. Which, in turn, leads to an age-old phenomenon.
When Jesus--or someone like him--was stirring up trouble, one of the groups he pointed fingers at was the Pharisees. As Rabbi Telushkin has pointed out [Jewish Literacy, p. 131], the term "Pharisee" has become a pejorative, but this does not change the underlying reality that the greatest teachers of talmudic Judaism were Pharisees, and that as a Jewish sect the Pharisees were no more objectionable than the Saducees or the Essenes. They represented an authority-class of Judaism, and were broadly condemned by the writers of the New Testament and eventually by Christianity as a whole. However, the behavior that Jesus--rightly or wrongly--attributed to that group concerns public righteousness and the power of words, as contrasted with the righteousness known to God and the power of the spirit.
In Matthew 23, we read Jesus' sweeping condemnation of certain practices attributed to the Pharisees. Among other things, he accuses them of obsession with the particulars of law, rather than the faith that drives observance of it; the valuation of the gold offered at the temple and upon the altar over the temple and the altar themselves; and the public show of lengthy prayers. All of these "woes" have to do with mistaking of outward trappings of a thing for the reality of a thing, and serve as parables for the true nature of faith and righteousness. As with many things found in Scripture, these passages also illustrate human behaviors which are as salient today as they were two thousand years ago.
Assigning undue power and influence to words can result in public displays of pious written condemnation, the purpose of which is twofold. First, it demonstrates the author's faith that words are the thing-in-itself, capable of powerful influence both by their presence and by their absence. Second, the author derives self-affirmation from the supposed power of the words. The specific condemnation of others' lack of written orthodoxy reinforces the presence of the author's written and personal orthodoxy. Thus, the presence of positive statements about war with Iraq coupled with the absence of explicitly negative statements adds up to "rooting for war," and occasions explicit statements of moral disgust on the part of the condemning author. This is, in essence, the making of "lengthy prayers for show" and the swearing of an oath by the "gold of the temple" rather than by the temple itself, which makes the gold sacred. It is the camel swallowed while the tiny gnat is strained out.
Today, we mostly do without gold offerings at temples or debates about the particulars of sacred law, and our public square is largely bereft of prayers, ostentatious or otherwise. But we do have our orthodoxies, and in this information age they are enforced with words. This enforcement can be subtle, such as the Agonist's public decrying of a written sin of ommission as a lack of moral seriousness. It can be overt, such as the continuing masquerade of the anti-American Reuters wire service as a news organization. But those of us who are serious about words as craft know that they are imperfect at best, and posess no power by themselves. What power they have is lent by the intentions of the author and of the reader.
February 04, 2003
"So one day mom and me were walking along the road back to town and there were these thieves hung up on crosses, right? Broken legs, bloat, ravens picking at eyesockets, the whole deal. So I asked her, 'What happened to those men, mommy?' And she goes, 'That's what happens to bad little boys who play with themselves and then lie about it.' You think being the Son of God is tough? Try having a 'virgin' for a mother."
--Jesus Christ
PLEASE STAND BY...
...WHILE WE ADJUST OUR THINKING.
Thank You!
February 05, 2003
Here is the response of the Senior Executive Producer of CBC News to a complaint that I sent to the Canadian Broadcasting Ombudsman's office regarding the "American arrogance" question asked of sci-fi author Robert Sawyer on the day of the Columbia accident:
The CBC Ombudsman has sent me your complaint about part of our coverage of the Space Shuttle disaster last week.
I must tell you that I was driving to the CBC building when the remark in question was made so I didn't hear it. But since I was in our control room producing our coverage beginning about 15 minutes later and ending after midnight, I know the tone we set. There wasn't a hint of anti-Americanism in what we did. So I was very surprised to hear about the nature of the complaint.
I have now watched the videotape of the interview you cited. You are, of course, accurate in saying that our anchor used the word, "arrogance" in a question. It came in a conversation with a writer about how confident NASA had become with shuttle flights. The shuttle had a proven track record, said the writer, so naturally there was a high level of confidence at NASA.
Our anchor then asked, albeit in an awkward fashion, if that "confidence" had spilled into "arrogance". Her intent, it seems to me, is clear. She wondered if healthy confidence had become willful blindness to trouble, based on the belief that any problem could be overcome with NASA's combination of brain power and ingenuity. I think, in the context of the conversation, that was a reasonable thing to ask.
But I concede that the anchor mangled enough words into her question to blur her meaning.
I have spoken to her about the question. She is aghast at the interpretation that some people have put on her words. She says anti-Americanism never entered her mind. I believe her.
I think her true sentiments were expressed just a minute or two earlier when she said, "We are all watching horrified..."
As I am sure you appreciate, anchoring a LIVE news special as a story is happening, is not easy. The anchor is getting information from untold numbers of sources and trying to formulate articulate questions at the same time.
As I said, I think the question could have been worded much more clearly. I'm sorry it wasn't. It left some viewers reaching conclusions we had not intended.
Mark Bulgutch
Senior Executive Producer
CBC News and CBC Newsworld
As I suspected, the letter below is not a super-special-just-for-me e-mail. Nicholas Packwood over at Ghost of a Flea--who brought the original interview to everyone's attention--comments on the boilerplate, excerpts some Reader Mail on the subject, and offers to show up at the CBC to have a look at either a transcript or a tape of the interview, neither of which seems to be forthcoming. Go, Nick!
And, in the interests of full disclosure, here is the letter I sent off to the CBC's Om Bud Fellow:
To whom it may concern:
Perhaps you can send the interviewer you sent to speak with Robert Sawyer to interview the families of the seven astronauts, and ask them how 'American arrogance' might have contributed to their loved ones' deaths.
I do wish I had managed to get the name of your organization's interviewer, so that I could track down her e-mail address and publish it on my website. It would be interesting to see how well she could defend her contemptibly small opinion without the benefit of hiding behind a so-called 'broadcasting corporation.'
Sincerely,
Ian Wood
Now, I call this full disclosure because I didn't actually hear the interview in question, which was made painfully obvious by the now-corrected gender of the pronouns in the mail I sent. This, to be honest, makes me feel a tad disingenuous...normally I don't take pokes at folks based on second-hand information. But I wrote that note at 12:32PM on February 1st, after spending some hours watching the television, reading the blogs, and so forth. So I'll cut myself some slack, because this is my site and I can.
What I find most entertaining about this particular stormy teapot is that Mssr. Bazay (the CBC Om Bud Fellow) has probably been deluged with criticism about this interview...much of it, perhaps, from people who haven't heard the CBC in their entire lives (like me). 'Tis indeed a Brave New Information Age we arrogant Americans have created. Pea had the Good Analogy in the car on the way home this evening: it's like living in a small town. If you get drunk at the pub and shoot your mouth off like an asshole, everybody knows about it the next day.
Highly amusing!
"These [eternal] principles, as embodied in the Bill of Rights, are like stars that always remain remote from every human realization but that, like stars, show the direction in which mankind must go. Once discovered, they cannot disappear again, although their theoretical and practical realization is always in process toward a higher perfection."
-- Paul Tillich,
on why people who believe that America's imperfections
are sufficient proof of its corruption need to shut up.
Oh, right--the Powell speech (with slides!).
Hmmm. Well, now. Uh...lessee, hang on a minute...
*ping*
There we are.
On January 30, I wrote:
For those looking for stunning new evidence about Iraq's weapons programs from Colin Powell's February 5 speech at the UN: don't bet on it.
This, I based on comments by the Redoubtable Ari Fleischer, to wit:
The Secretary's presentation will take a look at what is known about Saddam Hussein and the threat he presents, and he will connect the dots.
And, well...that's exactly what he did. With visual aids.
Now, Den Beste made this point about the State of the Union address: to those of us hopelessly addicted to endlessly hitting the refresh button on our browsers on a dozen or more different sites a day, there was, really, nothing new here. But not everybody does that. We're peculiar fish in a peculiar bowl. We shouldn't forget that there are quite a few folks who will be hearing much of this for the first time, all in one great Colinized torrent. That's a big old flood of information (with slides!), and I think we'll see a bump up in the various For Or Against War In Iraq? polling numbers. So: with damn near every American with an Official Pistol headed off to that part of the world, Kuwait closing its border with Iraq on February 15, and all of the other indicators that we're seeing...well, shoot, what more is there to say? We're not going to the desert for the privilege of conducting really realistic training.
The dots have been connected. It's all there. It's even online for easy access. It's either enough for you, or it's not. As much as I hate the bone-cracking historical weight of it all, the nerve-plucking risk to our troops and, perhaps, our civilians, and the almost-prophetic certainty that at least one Very Nasty Thing will happen during the course of the battle: it's enough for me.
And all of those folks who seem to be operating a few hundred million neurons short of a cerebrum can feel free to continue wallowing in their blinkered irrelevancy.
Oh, excuse me...I meant, "must be crushed beneath the totalitarian heel of the Evil Bush Clan's legion of stormtroopers, who tolerate no dissent."
February 07, 2003
This is the sort of thing that often characterizes the conspiratorial anti-war crowd: a spluttering package of accusation and rumor, all wrapped up with moralizing bows of suspicion.
These particular "questions" were asked of Press Secretary Fleischer by Helen Thomas, doyenne of the White House Press Corps and darling of the anti-war left. Observe, if you will, the bulldozing style, and the complete lack of anything resembling fact.
Q: Since you speak for the President, we have no access to him, can you categorically deny that the United States will take over the oil fields when we win this war? Which is apparently obvious and you're on your way and I don't think you doubt your victory. Oil -- is it about oil?
MR. FLEISCHER: Helen, as I've told you many times, if this had anything to do with oil, the position of the United States would be to lift the sanctions so the oil could flow. This is not about that. This is about saving lives by protecting the American people --
Q: We will not take over the oil fields, are you saying that?
MR. FLEISCHER: The oil fields belong to the people of Iraq, the government of Iraq, all of Iraq. All the resources --
Q: And we don't want any part of that?
MR. FLEISCHER: -- of Iraq need to be administered by the Iraqi government. And any action that is taken in Iraq is going to be taken with an eye toward the future of Iraq. And that involves the protecting of infrastructure, providing humanitarian aid. And that needs to be done by the Iraqi people.
Q: There are reports that we've divided up the oil already, divvied it up with the Russians and French and so forth. Isn't that true?
MR. FLEISCHER: What's the source of these reports that you cite?
Q: They're all over the place.
MR. FLEISCHER: Can you be more specific?
Q: That we have just -- we will take the oil fields and then we will parcel out the oil.
MR. FLEISCHER: But you cited some reports. I'm just curious about -- if you can be more specific about the source of these reports that you're citing here today.
Q: -- have you been reading the newspapers?
MR. FLEISCHER: Can you be more specific? Anywhere in particular?
Q: Senator Lugar said it.
MR. FLEISCHER: No, there's no truth to that, that we would divide up the oil fields. As I --
Q: Your own people have said something -- but I'm sorry I can't pinpoint it.
MR. FLEISCHER: As I indicated, the infrastructure of Iraq belongs to the people of Iraq. And that is going to be respected.
Q: Why should you decide what is their infrastructure or their government?
MR. FLEISCHER: Obviously, if the regime changes there will be a new government. And the government will represent the people of Iraq.
The one source Thomas manages to name is Republican Senator Richard Lugar, whom she claims "said it." But he doesn't seem to have "said it" on any record available to the public that I can find. What he has said in the public record, however, is this, in response to Colin Powell's February 5 presentation at the UN:
The world now has seen the intelligence evidence that everyone has been demanding. The United States does see, as a impelling part of our security, the need to act in Iraq.
He also called the evidence presented "absolute proof of evasion and deception by the Iraqi government" and "an extraordinary piece of visible intelligence."
Thomas' implication here is that if the U.S. takes over the Iraqi oil fields at any time, for any purpose, the entire war is about oooiiiilllll. At present only 24 out of 73 Iraqi oil fields are operating, and I can't think of any organization better suited to getting them all up and running than the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. To the Helen Thomases of the world, this would of course constitute full proof of America's evil imperialist ambitions.
The truth of the matter is that yes, at some point, American forces will have to secure those oil fields, and repair damage to them done prior to the battle and on Sadaam's orders during (and probably after) hostilities. There will be fires to put out, mines to remove, wellheads to replace, infrastructure to rebuild. And yes, for awhile we will most probably dole out the oil.
But that wasn't the true focus of Thomas' questions. Her words were ripe with subtext: Ari, isn't it true that America is going to seize the oil fields, steal the oil from the Iraqi people, and leave them to starve and die in a country that we destroyed to further our own immoral ambitions? And so Fleischer gave her nothing to sink her little fangs into.
This from someone who claims that "Cynicism is a luxury we can't afford."
Back when I was spiritual and In Tune With Things and taking many drugs, I believed in omens. Ravens, sunrises, stray balloons, you name it, my pattern-making brain integrated it and, sometimes, I changed my plans or behavior because of it. As I got older and less intoxicated I stopped putting so much faith into such things, and as a result the number of synchronicities I observed in my daily life skyrocketed. Now hardly a week goes by without a handful of obscure coincidences tickling my fanciful notions of an ordered cosmos.
Occasionally, though, I observe something so peculiar that I stop for a moment to take note of how I'm thinking about things, and try to find some missed connection or a conclusion that I'm not drawing that I ought to be. Tarot works that way for me: I'm not dependent upon spooky New Agey spirits or occultic powers, but every so often it's helpful to focus on an issue in my life, lay out ten cards randomly drawn from a deck of seventy-eight, and see if the imagery knocks anything loose. Sometimes I'm able to perceive patterns that are eerily appropriate, and gain some insight. Other times it's just a bunch of pictures and I've wasted half an hour of my life.
Last night, though, driving home from the train station in the mostly-dark, over the low mountains, I caught sight of a shattered globe lying on the shoulder of a curve in the road. Most globes have a distinctive shade of blue for the ocean, and uniquely geographic colors for the various countries and states of the world, so there was really no mistaking the pieces as the headlights raked across them. One big piece, most of a hemisphere, a few smaller pieces, pale blue in the darkness, and then it was gone as we headed around the rest of the curve.
Now, that's something you just don't see very often. How does a globe end up smashed on the shoulder of a mountain road? Surely it was travelling by car. Hikers and cyclists almost always carry maps to find their way around, because globes don't fold well and they're the wrong scale. Was it some sort of ill-considered hood ornament? Behold! Now everyone will know that I am an eco-warrior, even if I am driving an Escalade! Was it the victim of some road-trip game gone awry? See, kids? Now nobody gets to tell daddy the names and capitals of the six countries that border Iraq. Was it thrown out the window by a would-be Evil Genius, frustrated because he had no hijacked space laser array, no secret lair, no henchmen, no money, no job, and no girlfriend? I'll show you! I'll show you all!
Doubtless, the true explanation for the globe's unfortunate end is stranger than I can imagine.
What struck me, though, was not so much the reason for its being there as the fact that it was. In this time of incipient war, with one side proclaiming disaster if we don't act, and the other side predicting apocalypse if we do, seeing a shattered globe on the side of the road has all the synchronous hallmarks of a bored and insouciant god sticking a thumb in my eyeball. Let's see what he makes of this! Ehhhhhh!
Of course--as with all oddities of this sort--it is what I make of it. I certainly don't fear the end of the earth any time soon, but I do think that the political globe, as we know it, will soon lie broken and discarded. The last whispers of World War II are fading even as its last soldiers die. The old divisions between Europe and America, and new ones between Western Europe and its Eastern neighbors who cherish the freedom so recently granted them, are increasingly apparent. The illusion of the inviolate borders of the United States has vanished in a cloud of smoke and sundered steel.
However trite the metaphor, it is true that all human history is an interwoven tapestry, and this 21st century conflict between Islamism and the West has threads that stretch back over thirteen hundred years. But humans are often creatures of limited chronology, and when momentous events occur we seek the obvious pattern. So the fall of Berlin Wall was part of the overall pattern of the Second World War, as was the entire Cold War. Now, though, we seem to have moved on to a new panel in the weave: the causes here are fine threads, lengthy and delicate, that have long been subsumed beneath the fury of our 20th century conflicts. As the cultural memory of those conflicts fades deeper into the distance of history, we allow ourselves the illusion of something new, something without precedent. In reaction to that perception, new political fault lines erupt, old alliances wither, and new ones are forged. It's a fresh image, yes, but it's woven from the same sorts of thread as the rest of humanity's great work.
That is one of the essential differences between the conservative and liberal worldviews. Liberalism is aware of the past, but seeks to create an entirely new human work, a revolutionary weave on a new loom, while the old tapestry hangs forgotten on the cold stone walls, fraying and fading with moth-eaten age. Conservatism holds that there is no new work, only new panels. It recognizes the fine quality of the old threads, and seeks to make significant use of them while advancing the human project.
And so, for me, the ominous serves as a point of peculiar interaction between the processes of my mind and the activities of the world outside of it. Were I still spiritual and In Tune With Things and taking many drugs, I would tell all of my magical friends to stock up on canned goods and make sure that they had plenty of fresh water stored, because I saw a sign and it told me that bad things were coming. These days, such a sign just makes me think that the truth probably lies somewhere between the extremes proposed by those on either side of the cause of war.
It's just a broken globe on the side of the road, after all.
February 10, 2003
Welcome to Condition Orange
The New York Daily News increases its circulation by hiring folks to stand around and give away several tons' worth of the paper to folks boarding the Manhattan-bound ferries in Hoboken. So, I usually get to see the LATEST IMPORTANT HEADLINE within minutes of de-training at the Hoboken train station, and there's always a discarded paper or twelve lying around when I step off the boat and onto the island. Today's important headline is SHOW OF FORCE, and the lead story begins as follows:
The city goes on full terror-prevention footing today, with cops flooding streets, conducting traffic-choking truck stops and closely watching the subways.
They're doing the whole dance: tunnel checkpoints, truck searches, subway patrols, bomb-sniffing dogs. They're particularly concerned, it seems, about the subways, after reportedly intercepting some of that always-comforting “al-Qaeda chatter” that referred to returning to the scene of their “greatest victory” and mentioned the “underground.”
As I crossed Broadway after skirting the site of their “greatest victory,” which is now being turned into our “greatest new downtown transportation hub,” I saw two police vans, half-a-dozen officers, and one of the aforementioned bomb-sniffing dogs, who seemed quite eager to get to work.
One the one hand: good. Yay, us. On the other hand: well, yikes. Couple that with reports indicating that Sadaam is fast approaching the “get out in in 48 hours or else” mark, and you've got quite a belly-churner.
Then again, that could just be my oatmeal.
'Tis the season for the Hajj. What better way to honor Mohammed's flight to Mecca than by blowing up an infidel apartment building or spraying ricin all over an unholy salad bar?
The mammaphobic John Ashcroft reminds us that this is the time of year that the faithful of Islam fulfill one of the five sacred pillars of their religion. He also tells us that this is only the third time since September 11, 2001 that the threat level has been raised to orange (High Risk of terrorist attack, just below the crimson Severe Risk).
The ever-helpful Tom Ridge tells us that
There are so many available sources of information that you could refer to that will give you and your family and your businesses and your schools some comfort to know that in the eventuality, with the possibility that something might happen, you have taken some precautionary measures or taken some steps to minimize the damage or perhaps to avoid it altogether.
Thanks, Tom! It's good to know that there are so many available sources of information. Makes me feel all warm and safe, like I'm underground with a six-week supply of water, canned steak, and a Gary Larson calendar.
So, I went looking for an available source of information—specifically, the Department of Homeland Security website mentioned by the helpful Mr. Ridge. As a citizen, apparently, my primary role is to Provide Tips and Leads about Suspicious Activity. And to Volunteer. I would Be Prepared, but that link was broken when I checked it. I can, however, Protect Myself! I chased down some links and scored Responding to a Chemical-Biological Threat: A Practical Guide, provided by the US State Department.
From this, I extracted some further items to add to Astonished Head's Tips For The Practical Paranoid.
How To Recognize That You May Be About To Twitch Like A Kurd
“Vigilance” is a popular buzzword these days, but that's a state of mind, and isn't particularly informative in and of itself. When on the lookout for a Bio/Chem attack, here's what the Guv'mint says to be vigilant about:
- Droplets of oily film on surfaces
- Unusual dead or dying animals in the area
- Unusual liquid sprays or vapors
- Unexplained odors (smell of bitter almonds, peach kernels, newly mown hay, or green grass)
- Unusual or unauthorized spraying in the area
- Victims displaying symptoms of nausea, difficulty breathing, convulsions, disorientation, or patterns of illness inconsistent with natural
disease
- Low-lying clouds or fog unrelated to weather; clouds of dust; or suspended, possibly colored, particles.
- People dressed unusually (long-sleeved shirts or overcoats in the summer time) or wearing breathing protection, particularly where large numbers of people tend to congregate, such as subways or stadiums.
It's pretty cold in the city right now, and I don't think I need to keep an eye out for suspicious men in strap-tees and hot pants, so we'll let that be. The other stuff is somewhat useful, although I'm not at all sure what a peach kernel smells like. And when they ran the smallpox simulation drill last year (the one that killed a million theoretical Americans), they started the simulation off with a bunch of guys using plant sprayers in a mall in Oklahoma. Nobody noticed them because they were disguised as people who go into malls and tend to mall-plants with plant sprayers. Also, this is New York City...there's always something oily or smoky or stinky. Some amount of vomiting is the norm here. I must admit that I don't see too many dead animals about, unless you count all of the dead pigeons, which are usually victims of cars or the West Nile Virus. However, if you smell burnt nuts and notice a guy wearing a gas mask spritzing the water fountain in the park surrounded by a pile of dead and dying squirrels and an unusually high number of staggering puking people, it's a fair bet that something's amiss.
Of course, seeing that it's happening won't keep you safe. The other thing the Guv'mint feels it's important for you to know is that protecting your airway is the most essential thing you can do in the event of a Bio/Chem attack. But that won't help much if they've got something really nifty like VX, which is more effective as a contact killer than as an inhaled poison (it can kill you with as little as 10mg on the skin). Absent what the US State Department calls a “handy gas mask,” (?!) the only way to protect your airway is to run away. They suggest fleeing upwind, which is great if you've got a Saudi-looking gentleman in a full Hazmat suit wearing a tank on his back and waving a spraying wand at you. Otherwise you're just guessing. Failing "upwind," just going "up" is a good idea...most of the nastier agents are heavier than air and tend to settle into low-lying areas. You know, like subways.
Some of the "What To Do In Case of Attack" tips are just laughable. Such as:
- Cover your mouth and nose. If gas masks are not available, use a surgucal mask or a handkerchief. An improvised mask can be made by soaking a clean cloth in a solution of 1 tablespoon of baking soda in a cup of water. While this is not highly effective, it may provide some protection...
Not "highly effective?" No foolin'? Sarin, Soman, Tabun, and VX can kill on contact. Maybe anthrax and smallpox have a thing about Arm & Hammer, but I kind of doubt it.
Or this:
- If splashed with an agent, immediately wash it off using copious amounts of warm soapy water or a diluted 10:1 bleach solution.
Splashed? If you have a quantity of nerve agent on you sufficient to constitute a "splash," I suspect that making up a batch of soapy water or a 10:1 bleach solution would be made quite difficult by the drooling, blurred vision, pinpointed pupils, loss of bowel and bladder control, convulsions, and, you know, death. Maybe they mean "biological agent." That stuff usually takes a little while longer to have an effect, hours, or even days. It'd be nice if they cleared that up.
Then there's this one:
- If water is not available, talcum powder or flour are also excellent means of decontamination of liquid agents. Sprinkle the flour or powder liberally over the affected skin are, wait 30 seconds, and brush off with a rag or gauze pad. (Note: the powder absorbs the agent so it must be brushed off thoroughly. If available, rubber gloves should be used when carrying out this procedure).
I do hope I'm near a bakery if we're attacked. And I hope there are people there to roll me around in the flour and scrape me off, because...well, you know. Drooling, blurred vision, convulsions, et cetera.
Apparently, "late model cars" may also provide some protection from toxic agents. I suspect, though, that the only way our '95 Accord will protect us is by helping us to implement the overall best solution: flee! Quickly!
Although it's a brave effort, they're dancing around the issue: if you're in the immediate vicinity of an even remotely competent attack using sophisticated nerve agents, you should probably--in the words of a Reservist acquaintence of mine--kiss your ass good-bye. It's very nasty stuff. Any attack is going to be lethal business indeed, particularly if high-quality agents are used, as opposed to the home-brew crap that the Aum Shinrikyo dingbats were using.
That being said, let's review some things.
Among other items, Iraq has not accounted for:
- 360 tons of chemical warfare agents, including 1.5 tons of VX nerve agent;
- 3,000 tonnes of chemical precursors (which are developed into chemical weapons) including 300 tons uniquely used for VX
Assuming a very generous 100-milligram dosage--more than enough to turn you into a twitching pile of convulsive goo in well under a minute--that's fifteen million lethal doses of VX nerve agent. Why, that's enough to splash around in! And there are still 358.5 tons of other nasty stuff that's unaccounted for, plus nearly ten times that amount of nasty stuff that can be used to make still more nasty stuff.
Gone. Poof! Vanished. No, really--we dumped it all out, right over there.
You look nervous. Would you like some talcum powder?
February 11, 2003
American imaging satellites are truly amazing pieces of technology. False color imagery, high-resolution magnification, and precise tracking have made our space-borne spies impossible to escape.
Check out these images of targets in Iraq:
Al Jarrah airbase. Southern Iraq.
Baghdad. That's the Tigris river running through the city.
Saddam Hussein. Swimming in the Tigris and wearing a silly hat.
Tax dollars well-spent, I say!
Have I been terrorized? I have been deluged with no e-mail asking that question. Has the Most Astonished been victimized by the swarthy, suicidal al-Loons? Have the "martyrdom operations" of ass-Qaeda succeeded in breaking my infidel spirit?
I'm thinking about this now because of my near-textbook Pavlovian response to >>>CONDITION ORANGE<<<. I say "near" because while I do carry iodine pills, Cipro and a folding bicycle, I haven't stopped doing the things I need to do to go about my life. I just have more accessories. Am I jittery? Yes. Jumpy? A bit. Paying much closer attention to my surroundings? You betcha. But terrorized? Nah.
The expression of "If I don't stand here in Times Square and eat this Sabrett kosher hot dog then the terrorists have won" defiance has become trite, and it's bullshit to boot. If the terrorists have turned all of our major cities into biological hot zones, irradiated our entire governmental infrastructure, and converted 90% of the American citizenry into Shari'a-observing Muslims, then maybe they've won. But not until then. Terrorist victories have nothing to do with taking the subway, getting onto a plane, or defiantly puking in Times Square on New Year's Eve. They have to do with the achievement of the perpetrators' stated objectives, and by all reports they're still pretty far away from reaching any of their goals.
Still, it can be said that "fear" is at least one small part of their Master Plan For Crushing The Hated Infidel And Making His Women Dress Modestly. And I've got some of that, probably because (as I have written countless times before) been there, saw that, fled covered in dust. As is said, once bitten, twice...well, bitten again.
What are the odds, really? If you were in New York on September 11, there was less than a 0.0003% chance of getting killed when some freaked-out Muslim flew a plane into your building. Suppose another member of the Jackass-For-Allah-Brigade smashes open a couple of vials of VX at the New York stock exchange. I'm 42 floors up. Make for the roof, I say! And call down to the fire control desk to make sure they haven't done something stupid like leave the building's air intakes on. A dirty bomb is a bit more problematic, but I've got the iodine pills. If I make it out of the intial blast and dispersal radius I can also avoid thyroid cancer when I'm fifty. The truth is, the worse the imagined Doomsday Scenario gets, the lower the odds of its occurrence become.
A co-worker of mine was remarking on the recent BBC interview with Saddam Hussein. She said that one of the things that struck her was how relaxed he seemed, which in her mind raised two possibilites. One: he's completely insane. Two: he knows something that we don't. I favor the first one myself--it's called a "flattened affect," and is indicative not of serenity but of pathological detachment from anything resembling concern for other human beings. But there is still that fluttery notion: yeah, he's insane, but's he's wily, and he's had a nuke hidden in a U-Store-It in Jersey City since 1998 and all they have to do is put it and a sucidal henchman into a rubber dingy and float it across the Hudson...
I do think that's a possibility, in a way that I wouldn't have before September 11. It's also a possibility that there are terrorist cells ready to go off and do something unpleasant. Generally, though, I tend to agree with Den Beste when he writes, "The only conclusion that makes sense is that the reason they have not mounted any further attacks is that they can't." Even allowing for the supposed patience and psychological savvy of our enemies, how is it that they can blow up a bunch of Australians in a Balinese nightclub, but can't manage anything at the Super Bowl? Or two New Year's Rockin' Eves? Or July 4? Or September 11, 2002?
So even though I rather fliply and somewhat nervously write about nerve gas and biological warfare and my L'il Terrorism Preparedness Kit, I believe this to be an indication of prudence rather than self-comfort. It doesn't hurt to know the way out of a building, even if the chances that it will actually burst into flame are slim. Neither does recognizing that the chances are, perhaps, not quite as slim as they used to be.
February 12, 2003
Many who have engaged the issue of the upcoming battle in Iraq have made appeal to just war theory, and cite the ad bellum ("last resort") criterion. Such critics hold that war should only be a final option, after all other nonmilitary possibilities have been exhausted.
I think that they’re right: we should not go to war in Iraq until all possibilities have been exhausted. There is one final chance. One last option for peace, and until it is tried, we cannot in good conscience go into battle.
I have a spare futon. Saddam could crash at my place. You know, just until the heat dies down a bit. He could do chores and stuff for his upkeep, maybe some grocery shopping, that sort of thing. I am willing to make that sacrifice for the sake of peace.
Just imagine…
Me: Did you sleep OK, Saddam?
Hussein: The mattress is lumpy and uncomfortable, and the walls of this house are far too thin to withstand any assault.
Me: Uh, right...say, where is the futon, anyway?
Hussein: I moved it into the basement, where the windows are small, like a bunker's. I sleep better underground.
Me: Hey, great. Whatever works for you, buddy. You want some breakfast?
Hussein: I have already eaten a white omelette. We are now out of eggs.
Me: They were on the shopping list, you know…didn’t you pick them up?
Hussein: The ATM card you gave me did not have sufficient funds.
Me: Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…I checked with the bank yesterday. They said you spent three hundred dollars. Where’s all the food?
Hussein: It is in the pantry.
Me: I looked in the pantry. It’s full of ammonia, bleach, bathroom tile cleaner, Tupperware and light-bulbs.
Hussein: No it isn’t.
Me: Yes it is. And two dozen rolls of tinfoil!
Hussein: All of that material can be used for peaceful household purposes.
I think I have a sit-com to pitch...
Interesting. I started bitching early last year about the lack of '50s-style public awareness campaigns explaining the specifics of vigilance. The government's 4-page Bio-Chem Attack Preparedness guide, as I noted on Monday, is of roughly the same utility as the "Duck And Cover" instructions given to potentially-irradiated schoolchildren. I say "roughly" because the threat has changed. It wasn't really important then to be able to recognize an incipient nuking by the contrails in the sky. Now, however, there is the potential to recognize a terrorist wacko before he does full damage, and I think that part of the guide is helpful. Or at least tries to be...let's just say that it's a small step in the right direction. Actually, it's more of a glance towards the same general area that the right direction is in. Well...
Sigh. I'm trying to be supportive here. Really.
Anyway: at yesterday's Press Briefing, somebody asked a question about this very topic.
Q: Ari, I just want to follow on a slightly different point. Does the President believe that Americans should be as prepared for an act of terrorism today and should take measures to prepare themselves that's similar to what Americans did in the '50s during the threat of nuclear war, preparing school children and the like?
MR. FLEISCHER: In terms of being cognizant of the threats to our homeland, the broad answer is, indeed, yes. In terms of the specifics, no, because the tactics, the techniques are different from the '50s to the way they are here in the year 2003. But it's a sad but accurate reflection of the era that we live in when people are advised about the procedures they have to do to undergo to protect themselves and their families and their homes.
It's not a discussion that anybody in the government wants to be having. Having said that, based on the reality of the threat, it's a discussion that we can't afford not to have. And that's the unfortunate, sad reality about this threat we face. And that's why you saw the government yesterday put out in rather specific terms, steps that people could take to protect themselves and their families at home. We have no choice but to share that information and hope that people listen.
Still, we need some real propaganda to update the American Governmental Style. Something cheerfully optimistic yet suitably brief, like Bert the Civil Defense turtle pounding the Duck! And Cover! mantra into young minds.
That was probably a reflection of the times. Nowadays we may need a green-bobbed candy-raver twirling a glow-stick over her head and yelling, "I looove you, so protect your airway!"
[Go to a small victory if you're handy graphical-wise and can whip up some 21st-century civil defense posters. --IW]
February 13, 2003
Good God! I've been Vodkapunched!
Grrrrr...
GRRRRR.....
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!
Man, I am just pissed off this morning. I've got my big hairy jingoistic gorilla-suit on and I'm jumping up and down on my desk and beating my chest and smashing things with merciless, joyous American abandon. I have reached a breaking point when considering the words of all of the intellectual children who oppose this war based on ill-considered, fatuous, or just flat-out idiotic reasons, and by "war" I don't mean the upcoming battle in Iraq, but the entire campaign. I have crossed the Rubicon, and gained utter disgust and contempt! I have lost the capacity for making nice with dolts! I am Amerimonkey! Fear my primal screeching GPS-guided wrath! Ooop oop ooop!
The impetus for my rage was a pair of soft-brained dunderheads in the comments section over at a small victory. One Canadian and one American, united by their neuron-deficient cerebrums, defective chains of reasoning, and lack of connection to the real world. Now, I do have a fair number of Canadian readers, so let me just be clear: I am not implying that the fact that one of the dunderheads is Canadian is in any way connected to said dunderheadedness.
You know, I used to be fairly reasonable, I really did. I used to want to convince, to cajole, to lure opponents in with the sweet scent of reason.
Now, I've just...stopped...caring.
Sure, there are intelligent, principled objectors to the war and the battle. There must be. But they tend not to post comments where I can read them. What I read, again and again, are the same, tired tropes, spouted with absolute conviction because all of the poster's friends believe it, so it must be true, right?
Such as:
"You simply can't go around beating up people because they dont like you. It is not illegal to dislike/hate america, it does not call for war."
Where the hell have you been for the past oh, 23 years? This isn't about a bunch of people just "disliking" America.
Let's see...in 1979 there was that whole Iranian hostage thing...1982, some folks blew up our embassy in Beirut...in '83 241 U.S. soldiers were killed, again in Beirut...in 1985, it was deemed good politics to kill crippled American Leon Klinghoffer aboard a hijacked cruise ship, because he was an American, and--as a bonus--a Jew...in 1988, there was Pan Am 103 (270 dead)...in 1993, we had the first World Trade Center bombing...1996, an Air Force barracks in Saudia Arabia was bombed...in 1998, our embassies in Kenya and Tanzania were bombed...there was the USS Cole bombing in 2000...and then (lest we forget) 3,000 dead at the World Trade Center just seventeen months ago.
You beat up people when they beat you up or they help people that beat you up. Get a grip. Like all who are opposed to the United States defending itself, you call the upcoming fighting in Iraq a "war." It's not: it's a battle in a larger conflict. The overall war is against all those who think it would be a grand--nay, a holy--idea to pop open a can of VX in DC, or set off a bomb in New York (again), and so forth, and it is also against all those who supply them material, or pay them money, or have a strong probability of doing so. That's Iraq.
Your level of acceptable risk is stupidly high, and I'm very glad that you're not making the important decisions here.
"This is why they hate us, this is why they attacked us in the first place. Do you actually believe this will solve the problem or bring more violent hatred?"
You are naive. "Oooo, they hate us because we're such imperalists, ooo!" You've sucked up the pacificistic, postmodern wad of transnational spooge like a credulous sponge.
And yes: I think that when people who want to destroy a country are dead, they are solved problems. I think that when the infrastrcuture that supports them is destroyed and replaced with an infrastructure that is run by someone a tad more humane, it is a solved problem. I think that when those who provide the religious and ideological justification for indiscriminate slaughter are puffed into pink paste, they, too, are solved problems.
What is your suggestion? Repentance? Crawl on our bloodied knees and beg these medieval, murdering assholes for forgiveness? Diploooomacy? Jackass!
In response to a statement of mine ("I don't need to be convinced of the particulars because I'm convinced that the principle is sound"), I get this wonderful pile of snot:
"This makes me believe that you dont care about anybody but yourself. The particulars is the issue here: like how many AMERICAN soldiers will die? How many of my freinds will come back in body bags? What version of shell shock or Gulf war syndrome will they come back with? how will a war affect this generation?"
To which I reply: no, you choose to believe it because you disagree with me; nobody makes you believe anything.
Why don't you just throw in the bullshit "chickenhawk" argument and have done with it?
And while you're at it--even though this is, honestly, a very real but tangential benefit--explain to the Iraqi citizenry why it's a good idea for us to stay home
The trouble with people like you is that there really is no amount of proof that will satisfy you. It's always questions and theory. I used to be very reasonable when dealing with such concerns, but now I'm just sick to death of the same repetitive, mewling chorus.
Is it a risky operation? Absolutely. Will people die? Certainly, although I guarantee you that the only way "tens of thousands" will die is if Saddam uses a nasty weapon or two. But people are already dead.
Here's a particular for you: three thousand American civilians are already dead.
You want to make absolutely sure that there is definitive proof of total and utter cooperation between Iraq and al-Qaeda? You want a picture of Osama giving Saddam a blowjob? You want to spend the time getting everything nice and neat, so that future generations will know that we're not just a bunch of imperialist cowboys off to fight a war for oiiiillll?
Fine. Go ahead. There are already 3,000 reasons for my nation's soldiers to go in and clean up that part of the world, and, I'll bet, those soldiers think so as well. You go and study theories of power structures and oppression. Go on! Grown-ups are working.
"There is not sufficient proof to go to war."
I said, go on! Shoo!
"What a bunch of blind sheep you all are."
The blind sheep are the ones who have been led down the simple-minded, pacifistic, idealized, pretty golden road by a generation's worth of vile, soul-destroying, theoretical crap! spewing from the mouths of folks like Chomsky and the other "progressives" of this country and of Europe.
"Why do you think that Iraq is going to mount some sort of military campaign to come to America and blow up all your buildings?"
You're a simpleton. An absolute simpleton. That's not the issue, never has been the issue, and never will be the issue. The issue is non-state actors gaining material and assistance of any kind from state actors. Always has been. I don't give a rat's ass about the UN, which is such a moral organization that Libya heads its Human Rights Commission, and such an effective organization that its peacekeepers are ordered to stand by while refugees are massacred. As far as I'm concerned, all this dancing with the UN is bullshit window-dressing, and I'll be glad when it's over.
Such ignorance of the events of the world is matched only by the enthusiasm with which that ignorance is demonstrated. I do hope that all you deep thinkers continue to have nice chats, and continue convincing yourselves how superior you are to all of us imperalistic, warmongering Americans. Go on! Enjoy Happy Funtime Theoryland. Reality will grind on without you.
Now: I simply must have coffee. I get so grumpy before my coffee.
February 14, 2003
I just finished listening to Blix's speech. Short take: expert use of the words "could," "indicate," and "possible."
Then, wonder of wonders, this headline from Reuters: Blix Says Weapons of Mass Destruction Not Accounted For. And right before my eyes, the article headline changed, presto! into: Blix: No Weapons Of Mass Destruction Found. What happened?! Then I saw that the WaPo had changed the story that their front page headline linked to, from a Reuters report to an Associated Press report.
More later (probably).
Some more observations about Blix's Valentine's Day Waffle Fest (just $2.99 with hash browns and your choice of sausage or bacon).
The French are smoooooth. Like Whipped Silk, currently the best-named skin care product out there--it sounds like a sophisticated S&M bar where you can go to get exotic frothy mixed drinks and be punished. French Foreign Minister Dominique de Villepin, although smugly full of shit up to his carefully-brushed eyebrows, was a model of apparently reasonable, rational discourse. Even the French translator was good. Very polished. An A for style and presentation, a D- for content.
The Syrians were...well, Syrians. America has an agenda, the Jews have weapons of mass destruction, Iraq is cooperating fully, et cetera. Syrian membership on the UN Security Council ends on December 31st. We'll miss them.
What is up with Jack Straw's diction? Resolution of the crisis "...willrequire...a dramaticand...peaceful change, by Saddam. This willonly be achieved ifwe, the Security Council, hold...ournerve...in the faceofthistyrant." Jack, I'm glad you're on our side in this, but listening to you pause and stop-and-go today made me want to jump out of my chair and shout, "Say it! Say it!"
Colin Powell is pissed. So pissed that he kept banging into the microphone in front of him as he made emphatic gestures. "Resolution 1441 was not about inspections. Let me say that again. Resolution 1441 was not about inspections. Resolution 1441 was about the disarmament of Iraq." BOOMF!
The mood in the chamber was obvious. The smoooooth de Villepin got applause when he finished his well-manicured seven-minute statement. Even the Germans thought that was out of line; German Foreign Minister and council president Joschka Fischer had to ask for order inside the chamber. Powell was met with stony silence. Ditto for our man Straw.
My favorite exchange? De Villepin reminded the council that France was an "old nation," which I suppose was intended to lend depth and wisdom to his remarks. In what had to be an unscripted response to that, Powell began his remarks with:
"Mr. President, Mr. Secretary General, distinguished members of the council, it's a great pleasure to be here with you again to consider this very important matter, and I'm very pleased to be here as the secretary of state of a relatively new country on the face of the Earth.
But I think I can take some credit sitting here as being the representative of the oldest democracy that is assembled here around this table. I'm proud of that. A democracy that believes in peace, a nation that has tried in the course of its history to show how people can live in peace with one another, but a democracy that has not been afraid to meet its responsibilities on the world stage when it has been challenged; more importantly, when others in the world have been challenged, or when the international order has been challenged, or when the international institutions of which we are a part have been challenged."
In other words: there are fools of every age, Mr. De Villepin. So stick it in your ear.
In a post-presentation Press Briefing, Ari Fleischer focused on Blix's statement (bold type mine):
"This is perhaps the most important problem we are facing. Although I can understand that it may not be easy for Iraq in all cases to provide the evidence needed, it is not the task of the inspectors to find it. Iraq itself must squarely tackle this task and avoid belittling the questions."
This is true. And, when all is said and done: this is not about the three months since the passage of Resolution 1441. Jack Straw reminded the council that at the cessation of hostilities in 1991--hostilities started, unprovoked, by Iraq--Iraq was given 90 days to disarm. Now it is eleven years, several months and a few days since then. Almost twelve years of evasion and sanctions. And yet we are accused of a "rush to war." Almost twelve years.
As Blix said at the conclusion of his report:
"If Iraq had provided the necessary cooperation in 1991, the phase of disarmament under Resolution 687 could have been short and a decade of sanctions could have been avoided. Today, three months after the adoption of Resolution 1441, the period of disarmament through inspection could still be short if, I quote, "immediate, active and unconditional cooperation," unquote, with UNMOVIC and the IAEA were to be forthcoming."
As I said yesterday: this is all window-dressing. But to all who accuse the Americans of unilateralism: you don't know what unilateralism looks like. Unilateralism means that we don't spend time engaging in display, carefully arranging the clothes on the diplomatic dummies in the Macy's window that is the United Nations so that it looks pleasant and attractive to passers-by. Unilateralism means reclaiming some very valuable donated real estate on Manhattan's East Side and banishing the chattering debate society to Brussels, where it seems to belong.
We are trying our damndest to convince the rest of the world of the truth: toppling Saddam Hussein is in our interest, but there is also a very real convergence with world interests. By placing obstacles in the path of dealing with Hussein with appropriate force, the United Nations and certain NATO countries are not only attempting to thwart the proper defense of the United States, they are also foolishly endangering themselves and the countries of the Middle East. Make no mistake: the United States will do what it deems necessary. It would be nice if the rest of the world would realize that it is in their interest to allow us to do it.
[Den Beste has the meme-comment. --IW]
February 16, 2003
 I've got my respirator. My airway is protected. I've got my goggles, too, to cover the precious peepers. I've got plastic taped over the doorways. But my arms are bare, and I know that the dreaded powder will work its way into my shirt and my pants. First will come the initial symptom: the itching, and then the terrible red rash. I'll be lucky if I survive.
No, not a chemical attack by Muslim fanatics with Iraqi-supplied weapons.
Today, I sand spackle in the hallway, and it is a grim, dusty business.
After the initial frenzy of activity when we first moved into Peapod, there has been an extended lull. At first, there was weeks' worth of floor sanding! And painting! And brave attempts to cover up years of neglect with extra-thick primer and multiple coats of Whimsical Blue. Then...all was quiet.
Then came: The Door. See, the previous owners--the man of the house being of the crashing around violently while inebriated sort--had at one point smashed in the original bedroom door, fracturing its lock-side stile. Then, for reasons unknown, he chopped off the bottom eight inches of the door, perhaps a failed attempt to get it to fit into one of the smaller attic room doorways upstairs. At any rate: the project, like so many others in the house, was abandoned, and the door banished to the basement. The bedroom door was replaced with a another door, the Piece Of Shit model manufactured by Cheap N' Hollow Doors.
When I decided to clamp and glue the old bedroom door to repair the damage and restore it to its rightful place, I didn't know about the missing portion of the bottom rail. This I cleverly discovered after said gluing and clamping, when I noticed that although the door was the right width, there seemed to be a slight monstrous gap between the top of the door and the top of the jamb. This would not do! And was made amusing only by the fact that I had not primed and painted the door before discovering the unholy handiwork of Bucky.
So I, brave and intrepid new owner of various power tools, high-tailed it to the local woodmonger and procured a piece of spruce, which, with much drilling, gluing, dowel-pounding, and cursing, I caused to become affixed to the bottom of the mistreated door. Then followed many days of sanding, and trimming, and moderate mangling, all finished up by priming and painting. At which point the bedroom door jamb needed to be rebuilt, suffering as it was from the enraged drunken foot of Bucky. This required the purchase of the Porter-Cable 10 Amp Variable Speed Tiger Saw with Case. This is, truly, a devastating weapon, and will be used to cut apart the old front porch in the Spring, which should be great fun.
Once the jamb was repaired, I made merry with the chisel, and lo! Mounted new brass hinges upon the jamb, and then hung the door, so that it swings to and fro with wild abandon. A door reborn! There was great rejoicing. Never mind that the door is somewhat narrower at the top and bottom than it is in the middle. 'Tis a door, and it opens and closes, which must be fulfilling for it, being so forlorn and cobwebbed in the dank basement as it was.
But the hallway remained...shorn of its terrible brown paneling, dotted with spackle, it mocked me by its very unfinished nature. Today, though, I have cried enough! And let loose the dogs of soft foam sanding blocks. There will be the stink of primer in the house tonight, or I am no man! And by Monday's eve, fresh yellow color will glow, and the white of the semi-glossed trim will semi-shine. This, I declare!
And I mean it, I do. Even now spackle dust is sucking life-giving moisture from my hair and beard, and is working its way throughout the entire house. Soon there will be vacuuming with the Amazing Handy Shop-Vac. And then the brushes shall be unsheathed and the latex pigment will spill, hot and copious. Take heed! Thou trembling home, thou unfinished domicile, thou half-done dwelling! I shall take thee to task with rough paper and brushes of fine horse-tail, and I will be avenged!
For what, I'm not sure, exactly. But watch out! There's work to be done.
February 17, 2003
Well. It's a holiday, Presidents' Day, to be precise, so I'm taking a break. No news, no blather, no nothin'.
I've got painting to do.
Plus there's over a foot of snow on the ground, with a similar amount still on the way. Bob the Cat is looking mighty appetizing.
For those who have been paying attention to "Theophany": yes, I know I promised a new episode (weeks ago), and I'm tricksy and wicked for deceiving. I've made two attempts at the next episode and they both suck. So I haven't forgotten...just having some difficulties with the old word-engine, is all.
February 18, 2003
So. Our total was 20 inches at 5:30PM yesterday, and it stopped snowing around 11:30PM, so that means it's probably somewhere aroung 24 or 25 inches. I'd go out and measure, but I've already been outside, hacking away at a three-foot berm of hard-packed, ice-flecked road-snow that Mister Plow graciously deposited at the end of our driveway. Which wouldn't have been so bad, had I not done the same thing yesterday afternoon. Then I flung the car against the high canyon walls of ice that bound my drive, until I was able to shoot out into the street at forty miles an hour, whip the car around in a perfect one-eighty, and speed away, spraying black slush into the faces of gawkers.
Actually, I stalled a bunch of times, got out, shovelled some more, stalled again, and then headed vaguely off in a direction I didn't want to go because I had spilled a big pile of blocky snow into the road in the direction I did want to go. This was all before coffee, and was the cause of much indignation.
The car needed to have a suspicious front-end rattle checked, which turned out to be (of course!) a pair of cracked and broken transaxles. As the prospect of a wheel folding up at highway speeds is less than joyous, the car will stay in the shop until tomorrow, which means still more Snow Days at home! Too bad we've already eaten the cat.
All the same, it's an unexpected but welcome "mishap." Money spent to stave off vehicular carnage is money well spent, and when your reasonably-priced, honest mechanic is a couple of blocks away, the inconvenience level hovers just above zero. The back yard is white and bright, there's food in the house (which, I suppose, we could have eaten before tucking into the cat, but we were panicking), and painting to be done.
Oh, that--yes, I was supposed to have it done last night, but around 5PM or so, when we read on the MTA's site that they would be running one--count it, one--train into New York this morning, making all local stops, we decided that today was a Snow Day. So, I finished the second primer coat, the first semi-gloss trim coat, and the first ceiling coat, then called it a day with my masculinity unimpaired.
The fact that we can even make such decisions without turning on the television is, to me, amazing and fabulous. Using the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration's website, I have access to six different local radar displays (static and animated loop), and that's just the radar that covers my house. I also have access to hundreds of other local radars, plus four different color-enhanced national radars. I get to read the very same Hazardous Weather Outlook and Short Term Forecast reports that weather-folks do. In short, I have on my desktop weather services that, ten years ago, most local television weathermen had only recently given their hairpieces to obtain. It is a wonderful thing to look at a radar display, then glance out the window and say with with confidence and authority, "The trailing edge of the storm has just passed Middletown, and we should see the snowfall tapering off within the next hour or so." When the white flakes fade away on cue, I have become master of my micro-climate.
I now return to covering the walls of our abode with pigmented latex.
February 19, 2003
Through the miracle of telepresence, I am both working in the office and painting walls a lovely shade of Calabash.
But I can only do so much, so posting will be light and airy today, like meringue.
In the meantime, if you've got a broadband connection, an appropriate version of Flash, some time to kill, and an appreciation for stoned animators with poor dialect skills, go here.
[I should probably also mention that portions of that site involve hamsters and various kitchen appliances. --IW]
February 20, 2003
Very busy today, so no soup; apologies. New visitors (and old ones, for that matter), please feel free to peruse the archives for recent wordish tomfoolery.
February 21, 2003
Hmmm...I'm not the only one having a bit of a lull. A small victory, VodkaPundit, Rachel Lucas...all have been experiencing a certain malaise. Den Beste has come up with a big bolus of verbiage today, but for the past couple of days there has been a spate of unusually short entries on his site. What gives?
To be honest, I think that many folks in this particular corner of the infoscape were fully expecting to be writing about the war by now. The actual war, with bombs going off and planes flying around and so forth, as opposed to the maybe-war, with diplomats akimbo and French persons being outraged. Instead, all we've been able to do is beat the UN's carcass (again), make fun of the French (some more), observe troop movements (they're headed thataway) and...wait. Code Orange turned out to be mostly about ass-Qaeda hijinks: Let's tell them that stuff that you and me and Hamid were taking about in the coffee shop that one time, won't that be a laff-riot? That, and a conspiracy among the three largest manufacturers of tape and tape-related-products, the so-called Sticky Trifecta.
But now that's kind of blown over, and so we're sitting around, saving up the Big Holy Words for the upcoming battle.
Or painting. Whichever.
Apparently, there's been some kind of massive explosion on or near Staten Island. I'm looking at a towering plume of smoke rising from the misty edge of the horizon. More as I find it...
OK...the NYT says it's a refinery fire.
Not good, but I'd rather have a towering plume of smoke at a refinery than, say, on an unknown freighter with unknown cargo...
And now: some pictures.
Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of Astonished Head.
I think I'll write something about that...
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