10

I was too tired to tell about the feminist argument anyway. It was practically two in the morning, and I couldn't stop yawning. The place was winding down. A lot of the girls had stopped dancing and were socializing instead. My friend was trying to locate the Korean stripper on account that she had disappeared. Instead, he found this other girl he was already friendly with named Money. Money had been holding his ornamental scarf when we came back. She wasn't very Korean--she was Italian--but there was no point arguing about it. That Korean girl had fled like a refugee, and the place was closing. Despite her unfortunate moniker, Money didn't know the exchange rate either--and so descended the hand of bitter reluctance upon my wallet. The going rate, Money said, was ten American dollars for the duration of one song. Every fiber of my feminist being grew suddenly taut--and I don't mean that in a good way.

While the kids were out I enjoyed a very brief opportunity to reflect on my experience that evening. I was still very critical about the stripping enterprise. I can't help it. Women should not have to take off their clothes for money--least of all at drafty warehouse spaces along I-95. Women should take off their clothes for free, at 1210 Ellsworth Street, Philadelphia, Pa. 19147. The road to equality is long--particularly if you are traveling from Northern New Jersey--but well worth the reward. Real intimacy begins where the conspicuous stain of monetary wealth will never be detected: I live on the third floor, to the rear.

9

A lap dance at Show and Tel is ten dollars. Ten American dollars--not yen. For some reason my friend still had all this yen on him, if you can imagine that. He'd given away all his American currency in exchange for not having an opportunity to at least have sex with someone. Anyway, the Korean stripper wouldn't accept yen as payment for a lap dance. Yen is Japanese, after all, and the stripper was Korean. It's not all the same to them--even when you insist it should be. I told my friend to ask for a Japanese stripper instead. But you could tell he wasn't too hot on that idea, on account that he just broke up with a Japanese girl. I couldn't blame him, really. He probably didn't want to risk having his lap danced upon by somebody too much resembling his ex-girlfriend. She would have to be just Asian enough to create the right effect, though, that's for sure. That's why I thought it couldn't hurt to ask.

For my part, I was against the whole idea. It wasn't only because I knew my friend would hit me up for the cash. It wasn't only that, is what I'm saying. Because the truth of the matter is that I am something of a feminist, actually. I'm not really a practicing feminist--I haven't been in any parades or anything--but I've dated some girls and I'm pretty up on women's issues, as a general rule. I'm not afraid to admit it, either. The only problem with being a feminist is that you can't admit it all the time. Like when you're hanging around strippers, trying your damndest to be nonchalant on account that you have no money to squander on their services. That's probably one of the worst times to present the old feminist argument--even though it's probably one of times when you really should. That's my problem with the old feminist argument. It always seems like the times when you really should present the old feminist argument are always the worst times to do it. Anyway, I had a lot of respect for this Korean girl. I didn't want to see her compromise herself by accepting my American dollars for the entertainment purposes of my friend. But I knew all too well the old stripper feminist-counter argument. Strippers have a feminist-counter argument which they will use whenever you try to present them with the old feminist one. I won't elaborate on the old feminist-counter argument. I'll just say I knew better than to try to present the old feminist argument, in this particular circumstance. I didn't trust this Korean stripper enough that she wouldn't bring up the old feminist-counter argument right in my face. So I just kept the old feminist argument to my damn self, even though it would have been good for everyone to hear it.

8

This Korean girl was extremely attractive, and nude, if you like that sort of thing. At first she was a great conversationalist. She told us about how she moved from Korea when she was five, and how she hadn't had a chance to go back. I got my friend to tell her about the Paul Bunyon incident, and you could tell she was impressed. It saved him a couple bucks, that's for sure. She was very easy to talk to, and you wouldn't even notice that she was a stripper, except that your eyes were still open. That's when the problems started. Right around the time that my friend was wrapping up the old Paul Bunyon yarn, I should have made him tell the story about the guy playing kickball with the kids in North Korea. It was just as good a story, and would have been a good follow-up, too. But the fact of the matter is that I forgot all about it. The truth is that right around the time my friend was wrapping things up, kickball with the North Koreans was the last thing on my mind. It's a real shame, too, because it gave my friend a chance to choose his own topic of conversation. The problem with my friend choosing his own topic of conversation was that I already had an idea of what that topic of conversation was going to be. It was going to be the one that landed us all in the poorhouse.

"So how come everytime I've tried to get your attention tonight you acted like you were in a bad mood?"

"Really? Well, I've been having a bad night. You guys have to throw dollars if you want to make a girl's night."

I started to think that maybe she wasn't that great of a conversationalist after all. "You mean you didn't like the Paul Bunyon story?" I asked.

"Oh sure, hon. But Paul Bunyon doesn't pay the bills, ya know?" She started acting very flirty, all of the sudden. I decided I needed to stabilize the situation. But before I could stabilize the situation my friend started interrupting with all these expensive ideas of his own, like whether she was dating anyone, or if she would ever date someone who wasn't Korean. He was on a real high-priced roll, too.

"Well, I have a boyfriend who's from here."

"He's from here," said my friend.

"No, not here! I wouldn't date anyone from here."

"You mean you met him in the States?"

"Yes."

"You mean he's American."

"Uh-huh."

"Cool. So, how much is a lap dance?"

7

At the same time, it's only natural to pick favorites. Mine is the German girl for her shiny-poled feats of derring-do. I'm not normally into blondes, but this girl has talent. My friend is particular to an Oriental whose background we cannot decide. She may be Southeast Asian--Cambodian? She's too dark to be Japanese. Japanese are whiter than I am--and I sprout cancer on my derma like a vampire. Oh, by the way, "Oriental" is not an appropriate term to describe a person of Asian descent. It is used to describe inanimate objects from the region. (This what my Oriental girlfriend told me in high school--before she told me was pregnant with another man's child. No, she wasn't, really. She was Asian.)

It turns out she's Korean. She's frequently mistaken for Southeast Asian, though, for precisely the reasons we hypothesized.

"Well, I go to tanning salons," she told us.

"Yeah, I was going to say--I went to Korea last summer and people were surprisingly light-complected," my friend said.

"Thank you!"

"You're very beautiful."

"Thank you!"

I decided to interject a less expensive topic into the conversation, on account that my friend was blowing it. "My friend here is visiting us from Japan for the week." This had the effect of stabilizing things. I will tell you one thing that doesn't require stabilization--a 23 year old Korean stripper's breasts. And I will tell you another thing--you would swear they were Cambodian.

6

You would think I might be a little self-conscious being poor in a strip club, but it's just like being poor anywhere, except that you feel pressured to give naked women your money. It didn't bother me too much though. It wasn't that I didn't have any cash to give either--I had my tax money, after all. Having lots of money like that usually goes straight to my head--I will buy 100% fruit spread instead of preserves, for example. That's for my pancakes, which I enjoy every morning. The thing is, when you enjoy something everyday, like whole-wheat pancakes, it's a lot easier to deny yourself something you never have, like a lap dance. I'm not even much of a bargain shopper, either. Even if there was a great deal on lap dances--like three for the price of one--I would probably still be thinking about eating pancakes the following morning. This is because I am frequently hungry at night.

I don't know what to say about the men in the club. I cannot know any man well enough who does not long for pancakes after a certain hour, or who by virtue of his station in life is afforded the means to have women disrobe in his presence. This always seemed to me the purpose of foreign exchange programs, or becoming a congressman. I just don't understand these men and their disposable income.

It's hard not to judge people in these contexts. That's when I started thinking about Jesus. Jesus was a great friend to sex workers in his day, even though I presume nary a lap dance could be rendered in his presence. Jesus is hard to understand. He had such a sympathy for people who seemed to do all the wrong things, who had the worst judgment, who had the least redeeming qualities. These are people who I avoid because they are too petty, too uninspired, because they make poor choices for themselves and have little to offer anyone as a result. Jesus was constantly doing the opposite of what you would think. You could walk into a strip club and say to yourself, 'Thank goodness I have nothing to do with this,' and then Jesus would get angry with you while he talked with everyone else. No wonder the disciples were such a mess. The best you could do around Jesus was hope to screw up somehow in order to keep his sympathy.

A Risk-Free 'Nader' in 2004

“I still urge Democrats in the primary to support him. I’ve worked with him for 30 years. I would love him to be the Democratic nominee.”

--Ralph Nader

Read who he's talking about here.

Untie! 5

It's easy to have strong feelings about sex workers. I've had some strong feelings about them myself. My problem is that I can't be in the same room with them when I'm having strong feelings. I'm not a very natural performer, is what I mean. I don't mean stripping, I mean being entertained. Maybe it would be different if there weren't a hundred leering jerks around, but I doubt it. Even if I was the only leering jerk in the world, I would probably be lousy company.

On my first trip to a strip club, there was this crazy blonde who grabbed my crotch and asked if I was gay. I told her if I wanted that kind of treatment I would have gone to my senior prom. One of the problems with being witty in strip clubs is that nobody makes any money off it. Then this pimp came over and tried take our picture. He must have thought we had really hit it off, because he was very enthusiastic. He kept saying that you can't keep a trick, but you can keep the memories, and then he'd do this little jig where he'd shake his whole body starting from his ankles and going on up to his head. It was the same crazy clown who announced the girls when they were about to dance. Very theatrical. In the meantime, the girl had jumped in my lap and started making faces at the pimp while he hollered "electric!" like a lunatic. He had this chintzy little Polaroid for which he charged ten bucks a pop. I didn't even like the girl, so I told them I was broke on account of being a college student. "Come see me when you've got some bread, son," he said. The stripper gathered herself and gave me a cold look. "You may be in school, but you need some smarts."

Show and Tel is much less of a production than the place I went in college. When we first showed up, I was sort of expecting that kind of experience, with aggressive girls and the shystery staff pimps getting mixed up in everything. But it was much tamer by comparison. Maybe three girls approached me in all, with one being a man--and only the man came back after I snubber him once. Other than that, I had only to avoid eye-contact with the dancers and not yawn too much. There was a guy announcing the dancers but I never saw him. There was a bouncer at the door and the rest of us fine gentlemen; but thankfully there weren't too many of us, either.

Untie! 4

Most of my friend's stories about Japan were pretty good. He's been teaching English over there since college, and I guess he's got a different perspective on things now that he's made a new life for himself in a foreign land. For instance, he says that Americans are fat and loud, and that Japanese girls are very subdued. He's had a couple of Japanese girlfriends so he knows all about that. The last one just broke up with him not too long ago. I tried talking to him about her but I couldn't pronounce her name. So I just let him talk about her. She was already in a lot of his stories anyway.

One of his best stories didn't have anything to do with Japan. It was about Korea. He took a trip there last summer, I think. Anyway, one of the places he got to visit in Korea was the 38th Parallel, the border between North and South Korea. He said the South Koreans don't actually run the demilitarized zone--the Americans do. So his tour guide was an American named Hernandez. He said Hernandez couldn't answer many questions, but he showed some slides and told this story about something called the Paul Bunyon incident. The Paul Bunyon incident was something that happened during the cold war, where American soldiers cut down trees in the DMZ so they could stare better at the North Koreans. That's pretty much all anyone does in the DMZ--stare at Koreans. The South Koreans stand in Tae Kwon Do stances and stare, in order to intimidate the North. They're kind of like the Royal Guard in Great Britain. You can take their picture and climb all over them but they won't budge. Anyway, the Americans were cutting down these trees so everyone could get a better look at the North. Then the North told them to knock it off, but the Americans didn't. So the North took a bunch of axes and hacked down some American soldiers, and that's what history has catalogued under the Paul Bunyon incident. Hernandez had some black and white slides of it and everything. It was a pretty good story, we both agreed.

Another thing that was interesting about his tour was that he had to dress up so the North Koreans couldn't take pictures and use it as propaganda, saying that South Korea was poor. Also there were many tunnels underground where the North tried to invade the South, even though the North says the South tried to invade them. The South has all these markings showing where the tunneling blasts came from. Then he told me about how a friend of his actually went to North Korea once and said it wasn't that bad. I mean, it wasn't as bad as you would think, although it's poor. His friend said the kids there were nice and he played some games with them and nobody hassled him. I don't know what he was doing there, and my friend didn't know either.

Untie! 3

Show and Tel on Delaware Avenue isn't particularly fancy or anything. It's kind of lame. But at least it's not dirty or anything like that. I would say it's probably a middle of the road sort of joint. It's just a big space, really, with this L-shaped bar where the girls dance. You have to bring your own beer, though.

The dancing Sunday night was pretty uninspired, except for this German girl who could spin really fast on the pole and hang herself upside down. She was fun to watch because she was good at it. My only problem was that whenever she looked at me I had to pretend to be thinking about something else. So I sat kind of sideways and watched her when she was turned around.

The other girls didn't dance so much as they reclined in your field of vision, at which point you, provided you were not me, threw wads of cash on "them." My friend also found this objectionable. So we talked about Japan instead, on account that my friend was visiting from there.

Sex Workers Untie! 2

For some time I reposed with my compatriot at the bar. Several strippers engaged our conversation, similarly hoping to exact a breast tax. My friend provided them with the dollars, but I did not agree to such a tax. I will tell you a story. In college I attended a strip club. It was my first experience. I was greeted at the interior by a topless woman for whom I harbored no passions. She intercepted me in her arms and I took hold of her ribs, which were very prominent, I remember. Then she requested monetary compensation. I had only just paid to get in. I was a little low in disposable income.

"I'm sorry," I told the untrustworthy stripper, "I didn't mean to hug you."

"You got somethin' for me, sugar." She didn't ask me like a question. She asked me like I owed her.

"Well, no, you see that's just the thing. You guys chiseled me coming in the door. I didn't have it in mind--"

"You got somethin' for me, sugar." She hung her head at a very sarcastic angle.

"Well, look, I wasn't very interested in purchasing any of your services, in fact, I didn't even--"

"Hey, Big Daddy, fella here making a fuss." She was talking to the bouncer.

"We don't want any fuss now, bub," he said, like a real champ.

I retrieved my wallet and gave the door hag her ill-deserved recompense.

This created in me bad faith towards unsolicited stripper-folk who use all manner of chicanery to earn a living.

Do the Electric Vindaloo!

Last week the Bush administration celebrated the loss of computer jobs to
India, saying it would benefit America. The Indians are really good at
computers and they're willing to work for a few dollars a day. People who
studied computers in this country will be losing their jobs. This is good
because American companies will be able to make even bigger profits than
they already were. American companies save a lot of money when they don't
hire American.

This week Mr. Bush announced his plan to create American jobs. The plan
will be to retrain laid-off workers for other jobs. They probably won't be
computer jobs, since America won't have as many of those; but there are lots
of fast-food jobs available everywhere, and ample opportunity exists for any
programmer or systems analyst to work longer hours for less pay and no
benefits, with the right training.

Sex Workers of The World, Untie and Take Over

I cannot tell you the last time I attended a strip club. Yes I can--it was Sunday night. But I cannot tell you the last time I attended a strip club other than Sunday night, because I honestly don't remember. The only thing I remember are the naked women, vividly, as though it were only yesterday. It was yesterday. No, it wasn't.

I have a problem with strip clubs, if you can believe that. My problem is that they are too goddam expensive. This did not keep me from attending one last weekend, however. I should tell you the story of how I found myself at Show and Tel last Sunday around midnight. A friend of mine lost his ornamental Japanese scarf on the Show and Tel premises Sunday afternoon. He came to me later that night and said, "Will you come with me to retrieve my scarf?" I said, "Where have you left your scarf?" He said, "At Show and Tel." I said, "Okay."

Normally I cannot be found traveling in taxis to strip clubs. But I should not justify my motives, because that only complicates the story. Finally we arrived at the strip club. My friend retrieved his scarf while I waited in the adult materials shoppe. I had many judgments there. When my friend returned, he paid for me to enter the ''showroom." Why did he pay for me to enter the showroom? Only because I was not prepared to enter the showroom. I will not say any more about that.

Inside the showroom were many naked women. I felt very judgmental. For one, I had no money to contribute to anyone's drug habit. You witness my judgmentalness. Also, I imagined being very unpopular amongst the stripper women, because I had no money for them to buy drugs with. I will stop saying that. But you should not attend a strip club with no money. I imagined this fact very prematurely.

My first stripper to approach me was tall and blonde. She was very attractive. She told me, "My name is Desire."

"Desire?" I judged her name very harshly. "My name is Ryan."

"Do you have something for me?" She was indicating with her hands that I should insert currency in her breasts.

"No, thank you." I did not believe in the breast tax, after all.

The World Takes Review in CMJ

Bin Laden's Entire Family Escorted to "Safety" After 9/11

In his new book, Michael Moore investigates business connections between the Bush and bin Laden families, as well as other powerful Saudis such as the royal family, all of whom have extensive US oil-industry investments and business history together. Immediately following the 9/11 attacks, The New York Times reported that Saudi Arabia "supervised the urgent evacuation of 24 members of Osama bin Laden's extended family from the United States,"* even though many maintained close ties to the #1 suspect. The FBI checked passports, but was otherwise prohibited from detaining or questioning the family.

"Imagine, in the hours after the Oklahoma City bombing, Bill Clinton suddenly started worrying about the 'safety' of the McVeigh family...and then arranged a free trip for them out of the country.... One FBI agent I spoke to told me that the FBI was 'furious' that they were not allowed to keep the bin Ladens to conduct a real investigation--the kind police like to do when they are trying to track down a murderer."**

Moore also questions the idea that bin Laden was able to orchestrate the 9/11 attacks from a cave in Afghanistan--the official administration claim--when the al Qaeda leader is reportedly suffering serious health problems, including possible kidney and liver failure requiring dialysis; that the 9/11 hijackers were flight school students who hijacked and then flew precision attacks into the World Trade Center and Pentagon buildings, and not perhaps military pilots trained in the Saudi air force, who represent the anti-western faction of a dissolving Saudi power structure, but that Saudi investments in the American economy are so far reaching, and our dependency on their oil so acute, that the US government regularly forgives them their trespasses--funding and sponsoring terrorism being one of the most widely acknowledged. Consider also the unflagging resistance the White House has displayed to any open inquiry into the 9/11 attacks (yesterday's post).

*Patrick E. Tyler, "Fearing Harm, bin Laden kin fled from US," The New York Times, September 30, 2001.

**Michael Moore, "Dude, Where's My Country?," pp. 20-21

Yay for CBS (News)

Okay, so they didn't air MoveOn.org's ad during half-time because it was inappropriate; instead they aired Janet Jackson's celebrity teat, which gave its own rousing call for a better America.

The network's news division did cover the complete MoveOn.org controversy during Friday's evening program, suggesting to me that someone in the network still cares about the integrity of their own organization--probably quite a few people, in fact, who most likely felt alienated by their own leadership.

MoveOn.org has encouraged people to acknowledge this effort by writing CBS here.

Budgets of Mass Destruction

Boy, you know when Tom Friedman turns his rants against fellow conservatives it's going to make for an interesting election year:

"I want to ask every American, young people especially: Is your future better off now than it was four years ago — now that you are saddled with these large new liabilities and the higher taxes that must eventually accompany them?"

The New York Times

Also, a good editorial about Bush efforts to block the 9/11 independent commission.

US Officials Knew In May Iraq Possessed No WMD

The Observer

Anti-War Protesters Finally Enjoy Feelings of Superiority Over Their Pro-War Co-Workers

Anti-war protestors are standing tall in their workplaces this week, as word spreads of former chief weapons inspector David A. Kay's assessment that Iraq does not have weapons of mass destruction. "We were all wrong," he told the Senate Armed Services Committee earlier this week.

"And that means we were all right," beamed 24 year old Sara Parks of the Wilmington, DE branch office of Citigroup. "I can't wait to tell my jackass supervisor."

The news has galvanized many employees to be more vocal about their objections to the war, prompting them to brandish the wide-spread governmental failure as proof that they were right, and, just as crucially, that their pro-war co-workers were wrong.

"I had to listen to this asshole in my department every day about how we were going to kick the shit out of Iraq," said Jacob Hall, a 30 year old programmer at Level3 Communications, Inc. in Denver, CO. "He's really changed his tune lately, and I'm loving every minute of it."

Dr. Karl Rosen, a psychologist at Miami University of Ohio, examines the coping mechanisms of people who previously supported a war when they learn of its terrific wrong-ness.

"Typically there are two responses, and these can be attributed to two different personality groups. The first group basically isn't interested, but they go along with it because it's the safest route. Congress is a good example. This group will usually retreat from a previously held position when the majority opinion also retreats from it. The second group is more personally invested in war ideology. They are more obstinate in their views, kind of like Joseph Stalin. They will always revert to World War II analogies whenever their contemporary arguments are baseless--which is approximately 200 percent of the time."

Mark Thompson, a 28 year old developer at IBM, explains his own disappointment with the outcome of the war: "It's terrible to think that after so many Americans have died, and so much money has been wasted, and so many of us have been deceived, now I've gotta hear about it from a bunch of pot-smoking, countercultural posers."

Sara Parks says that even in the midst of a nationwide vindication, it's important for the anti-war crowd not to lose perspective.

"What anti-war people were really protesting wasn't the asinine claim that Iraq posed an imminent threat to the security of the planet, or the fiscal burden our children will have to bear for a bullshit war, or even the catastrophic loss of life that a US led invasion would obviously inflict on Iraqis and Americans alike; it was having to show up to work everyday and suffer the smug jackassery that people who have never had an independent thought in their entire life necessarily impose on their infinitely more enlightened co-workers."

Peter Jennings Defends Presidential Honor

Peter Jennings charged Michael Moore with being offensive last week, when the documentary filmmaker and author endorsed Democratic presidential candidate Wesley Clark, calling for a "smackdown" debate between "The General" and "The Deserter," President George W. Bush.

"That's a reckless charge not supported by the facts," Jennings told Clark during a nationally televised debate last Thursday. "According to the United States Army, a missing soldier is considered AWOL until the 31st day of his absence, at which time his status is changed to desertion. There's absolutely no evidence that our president was absent from service for more than a month at a time. You should pick your endorsements more carefully, Herr Clark."

The Dark Horse

Here's an article promoting last night's show at the Dark Horse Tavern at State College. We had people in attendance for George's political commentary alone.

National Public Radio

"Warm Body" appears on NPR's online music show, All Songs Considered.

Bush: "Saddam was a really bad man."

President Bush told the country today that Saddam Hussein, while possessing no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, was still an extremely bad person.

"He was bad."

The president's remarks come on the heels of former chief weapons inspector David A. Kay's declaration that Iraq did not have chemical or biological weapons.

"It turns out we were all wrong," he told the Senate Armed Services Committee yesterday. "Iraq wasn't a threat, unless you consider not having any weapons a threat, in which case the argument could be made that Iraq was indeed a threat."

Meanwhile, at the White House, the Bush administration has defended their decision to go to war.

"Saddam was bad," President Bush said yesterday. "He was a dangerous man in a dangerous, Arabic part of the world. He was a gathering threat to America and others. He just hadn't gathered very much."

White House spokesman Scott McClellan summarized the administration's position on the war, in light of the recent findings: "Bad people do bad things, and frequently this has negative effects. In this case, the United States made the tough decision to fight a man who was bad--weaponless, perhaps--but still, very bad. While the rest of the world stood united for peace, only a freedom-loving people such as ourselves could make the case for war against a bad, weaponless man. We weren't afraid to make the hard choices."

American Inspector Says No Weapons in Iraq

"The Bush administration cannot justify the war in Iraq as a humanitarian intervention, and neither can Tony Blair."

Kenneth Roth, Human Rights Watch

United We Stand, Passively Mute

America stands united. Alone in the world, America stands united. You are either with us or against us!

America stands united against terrorism. We are afraid.

America stands united against evil. We overlook evil, we do evil, we have every right.

America stands united for security. Protect us from a dangerous world.

And Beer and Cigarettes for All

During this year's Super Bowl, you'll see ads sponsored by beer companies, tobacco companies, and the Bush White House. But you won't see the winning ad in MoveOn.org Voter Fund's Bush in 30 Seconds ad contest. CBS refuses to air it.

The Winning Ad

Bush Visits MLK Tomb; Hundreds Attend, Vomit

ABC News

Bush Calls for Manned Expedition to Mars, Residences on Moon

Hey, I like space more than any of my ex-girlfriends, but what's wrong with this chooch? I thought men in space--dead men in space--was out this year and death-resistant robots were in? Who the hell wants to go to Mars anyway? I don't even want to leave my bedroom. Of course, we all know who to nominate for that manned-mission to Mars--or as he likes to call it "home."

And dormitories on the moon? What the moon really lacks isn't just dormitories, it's arable land--as a matter of fact, it's air! That's no place for low-income housing, unless you're moving from Los Angeles.

It is to Laugh!

"It's laughable to suggest that the administration was planning an invasion of Iraq that shortly after coming to office," a White House official said Monday when asked about Mr. O'Neill's account. Ha ha!

The New York Times

US Army Opposes War, but "Supports Troops"

This one I found really interesting: a US Army report detailing why invading Iraq was "really fucking dumb" and criticizing the Bush administration for "being so fucking stupid" to actually do it. The Army was quick to point out that while they now oppose the war, they "still support our troops."

The New York Times

Reuters

San Francisco Chronicle

The Guardian UK

Holy Shit!: Former Cabinet Member Says Iraq Invasion Planned Pre-9/11

Former Treasury Secretary Paul O'Neill told 60 Minutes yesterday that invading Iraq was a central theme at the very first meeting of the National Security Council--eight months before 9/11. "It was all about finding a way to do it. That was the tone of it. The president saying 'Go find me a way to do this.'"

"The treasury secretary is not in the position to have access to that kind of information," said one senior White House official.

Except that this treasury secretary disclosed 19,000 internal documents to Pulitzer-Prize winning journalist Ron Suskind, whose new book, The Price of Loyalty, comes out tomorrow. "[O'Neill] got every file from [CIA Director] George Tenet," Suskind says. One in particular, dated March 5, 2001, and entitled "Foreign Suitors for Iraqi Oilfield contracts," includes a map of potential areas for exploration.

“It talks about contractors around the world from, you know, 30-40 countries. And which ones have what intentions,” says Suskind. “On oil in Iraq.”

Read more:

60 Minutes

CNN

The New York Times

CNN, two hours ago

Reuters, one hour ago

Dear George: Where is the Terror that You Promised Us?

Since 9/11 George Bush has campaigned on the promise of additional terrorist attacks against US targets. He created the national color-coded alert system, which allow Americans to experience varying levels of anxiety prior to a potential attack. But strange as it may seem, the US is hardly ever attacked, unless of course we count the Bill of Rights--but that is another discussion all together. For now let us content ourselves with the idea that terrorism is not, as Donald Rumsfeld once put it, "an act which involves civilians," but instead, as I like to say, an act by swarthy foreigners of non-Christian descent, who hate us for our a). greatness; b.) freedoms; c.) global benevolence.

Terror was very much in the air this Christmas season, only not in the form of germ warfare on the streets of Philadelphia, where I had hoped to slow the gentrification of my neighborhood. Instead, it came in the form of Homeland Security Secretary Tom Ridge raising the national alert status to orange, "to send a message to the terrorists of goodwill and resolve." And yet New Year's came and went, and still no terrorist takers. This is not to say that terrorists aren't "everywhere," or that Al-Queda isn't quietly amassing twenty-five people to blow up something else down the line; but, really, if dying is to be my vocation in this life, I would rather take my chances on I-95 than waste my time waiting for the terrorist lottery to pay off in silver dollars. I may be something of a cynic, but I think our president holds out a bit too much faith in Al-Queda to undermine the American way of life when his own cabinet has proved themselves so much more capable in this regard.

Atheism

Atheists are the only people who can afford to live without God.

Fear

When presented with images of terrifying events, people tend to miscalculate their probability. A single memorable image -- of the World Trade Center collapsing, for example -- will crowd out less visually dramatic risks in the public mind. This explains why people overestimate the frequency of deaths from disasters like floods and fire and underestimate the frequency of deaths from more mundane threats like diabetes and strokes.

How can we protect ourselves from our psychological vulnerabilities? First, we can turn off the TV. A study of psychological responses to 9/11 found that, two months after the attacks, 17 percent of the American population outside New York City reported symptoms of post-traumatic stress related to 9/11. High levels of stress were especially notable in those who watched a lot of television. This anxiety is only heightened by cable networks, which have converted themselves into 24-hour purveyors of alarm.

--Jeffrey Rosen

Chronicles of 'Dis Ent

by Treebeard

Some time ago I began to wonder how snowmobiliers dared to pass through my woods so freely. Only lately did I guess a small Bush was to blame, and that long ago his father, the "Great Bush," had been spying out all the ways, and discovering a means to disparage myself and my fellow trees. He and his foul folk have been making havoc ever since, burrowing their wicked tracks through Yellowstone, and spoiling our air with unregulated canisters of fire. Brm, hoom! Good trees, these, and the many others that breathe laboriously under the mischief of this little Bush. So remote is his wisdom in living things, he sways to power like a sapling to the sun; and like evil he fashions himself under the banner of the righteous and the good, while in truth his purpose is carried on a fell wind.

The First of the Gang To Die

It was nearly midnight when we arrived in Pittsburgh. The Quiet Storm cafe was packed with our fans, making it all the easier to cart our equipment through the deserted club. I deposited my corpse on a sofa at immediate stage-left, and commenced a form of nausea-suppression therapy I like to call not listening to my drummer's opinions on Israel. Our friends, The Bullet Parade, played a stomach-turning rendition of "Shoplifters of the World, Unite and Take Over"--which is to say really first-rate. Carrie attended to my Gore-Tex hood with massage therapy, while Joanne procured peppermint tea to settle my stomach. I felt like a regular Mao Tse-tung; I worried constantly about the shameful spectacle unfolding before our Pittsburgh audience.

The True Meaning of Christmas

Jesus never had anti-bacterial soap--and unless you work in doctor's office, you shouldn't either.

A Warm Missive to Fox News

I was saddened to hear Fox News analyst Liz Trotta associate Moveon.Org with the "World Socialist Movement." I don't know how she arrived at this conclusion, but it's generally regarded as inaccurate, to put it nicely.

Many people enjoy The O'Reilly Factor, and enjoy the guests he features. Let's not discredit Fox's professionalism by making bold, inaccurate claims; or at least without correcting these errors once they are discovered to be wrong. I would like Ms. Trotta to correct herself, for the sake of journalistic integrity and accuracy, which I am certain she holds in high regard.

Thank you for your consideration,

JR Boyd

========

Through Fox Watch, many of you have helped monitor every single program that has aired on the cable station Fox News Channel for the past month. Those of you participating have filed hundreds and hundreds of reports about distortion, inaccuracies, and bias -- breaches of the basic standards of journalism.

Wednesday night, a Fox Watch monitor caught an outright lie during one of Fox News' flagship programs, The O'Reilly Factor. In a discussion of progressive websites, host Bill O'Reilly called TomPaine.com "the most rank propaganda in the world."

Fox News analyst Liz Trotta responded:

"Well, how many people do you think -- who look at MoveOn.org, know it's affiliated with the World Socialist Movement..."

This outrageous and false charge could only have been intended to discredit the work of MoveOn.org and its members. It is akin to the tactics of the McCarthy era.

Call on Fox News to dismiss Liz Trotta for such an utter lack of journalistic scruples:

Fox News Channel
(212) 301-3000
comments@foxnews.com

Sincerely,
--Noah T. Winer
MoveOn.org
December 19, 2003

My Mid-East Crisis

In retrospect, I could have done without the crossfire discussion of the West Bank. I am riding with George and our drummer, Dan, in the last remaining vehicle of the Overlord fleet; Jon, Carrie, and gear have been gathered up by a Pittsburgh-based salvage team also known as Jon's sister in a minivan. We will attempt to make this show. My spirits are high: hot tea and Tylenol have done the trick. I repose in the passenger seat. Somehow, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict comes up. Dan has taken Islam to task in the back seat, and George is not agreeing. I am not either, but I enjoy hearing the perspective, because I think it reflects a popular attitude towards Muslim culture which warrants close attention. George speaks wonderfully to the disparity of power between the two sides, and against the idea that Islam as a religion is uniquely intolerant of other perspectives. The argument escalates, however, and 45 minutes later I no longer have an opinion; but my stomach is ready to make a concluding remark all over the streets of Pittsburgh.

The Capture of George W. Bush

The Democratic candidates just have to take off these kid gloves. I'd begin by asking some hard questions about Republican administrations' past relationship with Saddam. Put that photo of Rumsfeld shaking Saddam's hand in 1983 in the commercials; ask hard questions about former Reaganites now serving in the Bush administration who supported Saddam to the hilt while he was gassing Iranian troops and Kurds; find out who authorized the US sale of chemical and biological precursors to Saddam; and be so rude as to bring up the horrible betrayal committed by Bush senior when he stood aside and let Saddam massacre all those Shiites in 1991, after they rose up in response to a Bush call for the popular overthrow of Saddam. The US military could have shot down those helicopter gunships that massacred Shiites in Najaf and Basra. Bush senior clearly told them to let Saddam enjoy his killing fields. And imagine, the Bush administration officials are actually getting photo ops at the mass graves their predecessors allowed to be filled with bodies!

What happened Sunday was that the Republicans captured a former ally, with whom they had later fallen out.

--Juan Cole

The Quiet Storm Cafe, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Overlord suffered some casualties last night. I became sick yesterday morning and proceeded to be sicker in the course of the seven or so hours it takes to travel from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh. Not to be outdone, our bassist, Jon Robb, jettisoned the passenger-side wheel of his car into the icy night along I-76. We spent the evening buying 50-cent hot chocolate out of a machine and reading copies of The Independent Trucker at a small service center outside of the city. Vitamin B may help counteract depression, studies show. Jon Robb observed that most American dialects vary in vowel sounds. Central Pennsylvanians, to whom we are indebted for keeping the price of hot chocolate reasonable, do not sound Southern because of this. There was a woman traveling in our party, Carrie, who is engaged to Jon Robb. She procured Tylenol from the bearded Pennsylvanian and told me to knock it off with the hot chocolate and drink hot tea instead. I felt about hundred times better by the time we were moving again.

A December Schedule of Live Concerts

Overlord plays Pittsburgh tomorrow, and the Khyber in Philadelphia next Friday, the 19th of the month. George meets tonight with two prospective "reverse strippers" who will systematically put their clothes on during the show. George has asked that I show up to lend credibility to the scheme; right now it's all I can do to locate my second pair of trousers. I will also contrive to bring a female of my own, as if to say "we too know what it is like to be a woman."

Also, new song (cover) called "Kelly" in more audio, by George.

Band Names

Social Security (my solo project, in the tradition of other hip bureaucracies such as Interpol and The Postal Service, except it will be defunct before I write anything worthwhile)

The Trans-fats

Operation Iraqi Fiefdom

Soma

The correlation between pharmaceuticals as a hugely profitable industry and the relatively new fashion of diagnosing depression and anxiety as a biological 'problem'--instead of a response--just seems a little too convenient. It's really the medical profession that should be blowing the whistle on the fact that people are unhappy in overwhelming numbers; the sheer scope of it should suggest some external, societal cause. But that would put doctors in the position of advocating social change. It's much easier to accept the pseudo-science of the pharmaceuticals, whose everlasting message is that life's problems are biological--not political, social, or economic--in form, and that the solution to our problems lie in a better, more sophisticated drug.

Thanksgiving

I'm not convinced that our economic system meets the needs, material or spiritual, of its citizens. For example, I have the material need to get a good night's sleep. But this is not possible when your father curses in the middle of the night because he hates his job. So I indict our economic system for giving my father nightmares about financial security in his golden years.

The solution now is to medicate people who are reacting normally to a profoundly false social system. People will naturally react to insecurity, fear and acute stress with the biological response of depression. It's not because our brain isn't properly regulating serotonin; it's because our lives actually do suck to a phenomenal degree.

More on Death and Dying

We did not make this world, but we make part of this world. In dying we let go of both the things that we make and the things that have been made. Because death is a normal, healthy way to end one's life, it is helpful to consider the things we will miss, but equally important to consider the many things we won't miss.

Most of us have some idea of the things we will miss. Chocolate, for instance, is high on everybody's list. Also, ice cream. Consider now, some things we won't miss, like men who adjust themselves in public. I hold out great optimism towards death for this reason alone. Also, network news-broadcasters.

Diabolique

Saturday night I was not permitted to attend a fetish ball because I wore objectionable pants. I was instructed to take them off, if I wanted to attend the event. As I rode the subway home, I considered the advantages one enjoys in rejection. Fondly I recalled the time I was rejected at a dance club because I wasn't wearing a wife-beater or adjusting my genitals in conversation with friends. I thanked the bouncer--now I had money for milk and bread. Social rejection is a big money-saver.

When you are rejected from Philadelphia's premiere fetish event last Saturday night, you do well to have cab fare home. Instead, I wandered Northern Liberties wrapped in pantyhose and duct-tape with welder's goggles dangling from my neck. Poor people are not really interested in this, but that does not make riding the subway any less upsetting. I was fortunate to have my work jacket at my disposal, even though Saturday was very warm night.

A Brief Reflection on Saturday Night

Music isn't any kind of life. I can't hear out of the left side of my head. I spent yesterday in my bedroom, with the bedsheets secured against the windows and my corpse immobile for the duration. It was a good show, overall. I wasn't nauseous until this morning; it always takes a few days for my nervous system to bounce back. I'm not any kind of performer, is what I mean. Just ask my ex-girlfriends.

Music and women don't mix. Anyone who goes into music to just to get girls is a lot smarter than me--but that doesn't mean you'd be very impressed by them. They're the type of jerks who, when you drink a beer with them, they're constantly in a good mood, on account that they got a girlfriend by posturing as some kind of musical jackass. I can spot a musical bastard like that a hundred miles away, because they usually have a hot girlfriend. That's the goddam pisser about it all. One time I knew this jerk in a surf band who was a real talented bastard when it came to being musical. I mean, I'm maybe half the jackass this particular individual was when it came down to sheer talent. Anyway, he had this girlfriend that was always popping up at his goddam shows--I only know because I had a close friend who enjoyed this sort of thing, and so I'd try to make an appearance and all--and you couldn't help but notice that this girl was pretty. Even my friend would tell me all about it. Well, one time we all sat together and I asked this girl what she was studying in school. I feel like I'm constantly asking girls what they're studying in school, but you can hardly blame me. You have to take an interest, particularly in other people's girlfriends. So this girl started telling me about how she studied philosophy and how Kierkegaard thought you shouldn't believe in religion, but that you should act like you do. I couldn't imagine how she'd gone so long dating this chooch. I don't want you to think I'm drawing any kind of lousy conclusions about this. I'm just saying that music is a crumby way to meet girls, especially when they become attracted to you so easily.

Concert at Penn State

An article about tomorrow's Overlord show at Penn State. Fine quips from Mr. George.

Historians Dispute Analogies to Germany, Japan, with Iraq

The Bush administration has continually compared the situation of post war Iraq with that of Germany and Japan under occupation after WW II. At one point, administration spokesmen even alleged that US troops in Germany had faced attacks by "Werewolves," or, former SS men. This allegation is unfounded. No US troops were killed by Werewolves in post-War Germany, and they assassinated maybe one mayor, though I understand that is controversial.

Likewise, the administration of Japan was by old New Dealers who strengthed trade unions and democratized. The major projects of the Bush administration in Iraq have been to dissolve existing unions, to completely throw open the country to unregulated investment (which could easily turn speculative and predatory), and to install a regressive flat tax that will favor the emergence of super-rich robber barons.

--Juan Cole

Conclusion

How did our narrator solve this puzzle?

The narrator cannot ordinarily afford to drink Vitamin D milk out of a glass, but on this particular evening he made an exception. The total calorie content of this food exceeded the narrator's normal suppertime allowance, causing his stomach to expand and subsequently creating a sensation of 'fullness'. It was this physiological manifestation which the narrator mistakenly took for an interloper.

House
cont.

But tonight the taverns would not have me to swindle! I sat down at my desk and lighted the overhead lamp. From my shelf I selected only the most appropriate title for an eve as fine as this. And do not doubt for one moment that this eve was not a fine one--indeed, one of the finest in recent memory! Every thing about it was ideal; every last detail conspired to make it great. The light from my lamp had never burned so benevolently. And the words illuminated! For your life, you have never seen a text so positively readable. My hands, in sifting the pages, never once fidgeted or took to distraction. My general posture, in fact, had never before been so sensible. My hair laid agreeably and my toenails did not quarrel. My nose contented itself above my mouth as never a nose has been observed to do. My eyes! I daresay my eyes were so excellent that just one of the usual pair of ocular organs would have suited me on this night. The desk could not have been a better height; the chair rose to greet my fundament with the most conciliatory of expressions.

There can rarely a comparison be made to the miraculous fever of industry which
took hold of me that night. All around me the house was still--perfectly still!--as though
its very breath had been suspended for my labors! But, no... that was not entirely true; there was an odd presence here now--I could sense it! There was something else here; something not made of wood, brick, or mortar. Surely I know a stranger in my own home! But I will tell you what was stranger still: something was moving in the very chamber where I now sat!

I cast the lamp about in every dark corner. Nothing. I addressed my intruder in a respectable tone: "Hello, there, my friend. Do not be alarmed. Come out into the light where I can see you better! There's no reason duck about in the shadows--ha ha!"

Just then the foreign presence moved, pressing hard up against my abdomen. I fell upon the bed with surprise. It was then that I realized the folly of my pursuit.

House of Ellsworth
continued

At length I have endeavored to detail the circumstances attending this night in my own mind; my recollection, if the reader should find it peculiar, no doubt reflects the strangeness of the occasion, as my memory in this regard would remain the evening's sole inheritor. It is only now, several days elapsed, that I purpose to take up my pen and relate the harrowing ordeal as it occurred:

The evening was dark, and the gloam pressed heavy against the house. True!--famished--very, very dreadfully famished I had been; but witness how craftily I hastened my way to the kitchen; why will you say that I cannot find my way? The famine has only sharpened my senses--not destroyed--not dulled them. Above all was the sense of taste acute. I tasted all things in heaven and earth. I tasted many things in hell, and several in Congress. How, then, am I delirious? Hearken! and observe how healthily--how calmly I resolved to make a sandwich.

I steadied myself before the refrigerator door. Inside was cold, frightfully cold, like the tomb of Ann Coulter--how curious that life and warmth should be drawn from within! As the bell sounded the hour, I was perched over my plate like a jay, anticipating a fine repast. Not once did I rise to pace, rant or rave! I presided over the feast as a king might over a banquet--with grace and poise--do you mark me well? But no sooner than I had finished my plate than my attention was arrested by a banana. Ah-ha!--the banana, with its sugary, seedless pulp! But you should have seen me. How I strode to the fruit and handled its porous exterior. And then, with a glass of Vitamin D milk, how stealthily I retired to my chamber--quietly! oh, so very quietly--so not to disturb the sparkling, seamless garment of night that whispered throughout the house.

Oh-ho! And now how perfectly I was concealed within the city; if by some chance a visitor would call upon the house--some familiar plague of acquaintance--no answer would be issued forth from the darkness! I was perfectly small now--perfectly unobserved! Perhaps they would discern I was home; perhaps they would suspect it! For it is commonly understood that I am loathe to venture far from my books. It is hardly any secret. And yet they persist, like a terrible clockwork, never quitting me, scaring me half out of my wits at every hour, unceasingly as they materialize, unannounced, at my door.

Night in the House of Ellsworth

Philadelphia

At 8 o'clock, p.m. Roommate, Nicholas and a gentleman caller took their departure, leaving me in possession of the Ellsworth Shanty. The first observation I made thereupon was, "Verily does my estomago protest for a meal." The impulse so acute, it put me almost beside my propriety; and I counted myself most fortunate not to be entertaining, lest I should collapse forthwith in a famine-induced slumber. Many were the evenings of my youth that fatigue did visit itself upon the house, calling expressly for lack of sustenance, with neither ale nor wafer to tide me till the morn; and so I greeted my condition with the weary resignation of someone for whom the familiarity of their symptoms is as marked as much by complacency as by vexation.

In the south of Philadelphia there exists an impressive tradition of eating, and it would be folly to think I have not pursued this nonpareil to my every advantage. There is of course the Washington Avenue pretzel dispensary, whose destination in transit I am often times spied for by the men and women of 9th street row, a few minutes after midnight, and whenever a dollar proves handy. The proprietor is a round man with large bundles of currency wrapped in elastic bandings which he snaps curtly should you produce any large bill. There are many nomadic packs of youth at this hour, and my crab-like compatriot recedes into the belts and furnace of his machinery until summoned for another exchange. (In a similar way, I make a hasty retreat to Ellsworth; I am not by nature a person of easy talk.) There is also the Italian Market, which must only be attempted in the early hours, lest one be swallowed by the throng mid-day. I learned early on to prepare myself the meals I hoped to profit by in days ahead, and the market has been instrumental to this end. For instance, I have spent considerable time in the development of a type of pan-cooked battercake, which I employ to offset the shooting pains I awaken to most mornings. I have also a rice and bean compound which goes very well with bread, and a potato and cabbage mixture that was a favorite among the Irish in times of prosperity. Of these articles I have subsisted heartily for many years.

On the Question of Mortality

Dying is an important part of a healthy, active lifestyle. After all, nobody wants to live forever--unless they already enjoy rent-control. And even if death is a total state of nothingness, it's still better than $700 a month for an efficiency in Bella Vista. Dying should be a welcome part of the human experience, especially when it comes to gentrification. If your life's ambition is to die before thirty, you can save big bucks, even if you forfeit the security deposit on your apartment--and it's never too early to start thinking about retirement. Man that is born of woman hath but a short time to live, but short men that live with women encounter many bosoms. Some things are hard to give up, and women don't make that any easier, unless they watch Dr. Phil on a daily basis.

Wars of Compassion

How Very American

by Overlord



You beat up my bad boyfriend
And became my worse boyfriend
How very American
You took everything I had
Left me in your cronies' hands
How very American

Still I fell for your tales of home
Where the streets are paved in gold
To cover up the blood
Now you're taking your show on the road
And we're all going to pay for it
How very American

You've got a sickness
That you can't admit
It's very American

Still, the lessons of the pioneers
Weren't lost on my schoolyard peers
Arena or battlefield
Since they first traversed these shores:
EVERYTHING YOU CAN TAKE IS YOURS!
How very American

Job Corner

by Stephen Lentz

Sorry to have not responded to your many politically motivated forwards recently, but I must confess that I have spent the last month readjusting to the work world. Yeah, it sucks. I much preferred the summer, when the City of New York paid me to sit on my ass for an entire month. But, as Shakespeare once said, "ain't paybacks a muthafucka?!" Yeah, the children are definitely getting the last laugh these days. But seriously, school has been OK, and it's nice to be in place where I know everyone's name now, and am able to kiss the appropriate asses that need to be kissed, rather than simply groping around in the dark trying to figure out the identity of my actual boss. That's the thing about schools... who the hell am I supposed to report to anyway?! Principal, Assistant Principal, Staff Developers, the Special Ed. Director, the head custodian? It used to be so confusing, but this year it's like, "Ah yes, I know your opinion means this side of dick... I'll just keep nodding in agreement until you finish up though."

News

The Organ bio has finally arrived!

Reproductive Rights

Everyone should have the right to reproduce, although not everyone reproduces right, which only underscores the importance of finding a partner first. This is not easy: even with the advantages of technology, dating services, and women walking their dogs on Sundays, still we find ourselves turning to chocolate for decent company. But what about our biological imperative to populate, or, more popularly, copulate? This will vary by individual--and God help you if you are Catholic. Every religion finds a place for nature's oldest ice-breaker, although if you think this includes the church confessional you should probably see a psychologist.

Nickel and Dimed



When someone works for less pay than she can live on--when, for example, she goes hungry so that you can eat more cheaply and conveniently--then she has made a great sacrifice for you, she has made you a gift of some part of her abilities, her health, and her life. The "working poor," as they are approvingly termed, are in fact the major philanthropists of our society. They neglect their own children so that the children of others will be cared for; they live in substandard housing so that others will be shiny and perfect; they endure privation so that inflation will be low and stock prices high. To be a member of the working poor is to be an anonymous donor, a nameless benefactor, to everyone else.

Barbara Ehrenreich