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Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.) Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu. This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things. Tuesday, April 16, 2002
California? What about Alabama!
Ken Layne takes note of James Wolcott's article about blogging, and notes that "This is the first print piece I've seen that recognizes the California tilt of this goofy blogging mafia." Hey Ken, what about us?! Remember that one of the Axis of Weevil's goals is to tilt the blogbalance back toward the Gulf of Mexico! To that end, we will be giving away Weevil Bobblehead Dolls every Wednesday to every person who comes through the gates of the palatial Axis of Weevil World Headquarters, and every Saturday is Hat Day!
Wife of Slain Reporter Gets Book Deal
NEW YORK (AP)--Mariane Pearl, the widow of slain Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl, is writing her memoirs. Scribner expects to publish the book early next year. [...] ...Certain "cartoonist" orders reams of paper and three gallons of ink in order to properly celebrate.
Axis of Weevil Welcomes Invasion of Europe by Insect Brethren
Axis of Weevil Minister of Giant Nucular Bugs and Greeting Cards Craig Biggerstaff with his take on the discovery of aints in Fraince: I WOULD LIKE TO BE THE FIRST TO WELCOME OUR NEW INSECT OVERLORDS: Giant invasion of Argentine ants conquers Europe. A press release issued by the Ant Queen's minions indicated that their plans are to "avenge the humiliations visited on their holy sites", and called for a restoration of the supercolony driven out of southern Europe years ago in what the press release termed "the tragedy of Monsanto". France promptly surrendered. In a related incident along the Mediterranean coast, vacationing international correspondent Robert Fsck was ambushed and bitten repeatedly by thousands of ants who died in the attack; he nonetheless claimed "I would have bitten me too" and praised their "depth of feeling" before he drifted into unconsciousness from the ant venom.
UN backs Palestinian violence
UNITED NATIONS - Six European Union countries yesterday endorsed a United Nations document that condones violence as a way to achieve Palestinian statehood. They were voting as members of the UN Human Rights Commission on a resolution that accuses Israel of a long list of human rights violations, but makes no mention of suicide bombings of Israeli civilians. [...] EU members Austria, Belgium, France, Portugal, Spain and Sweden approved the resolution, and Italy abstained. Belgium and Spain have been pushing for tough EU measures against the Jewish state, with Belgium calling for sanctions based on a human rights clause in the EU-Israeli Free Association agreement, which grants Israel preferential trading terms. But Britain, Germany and the Netherlands say such measures would end the EU's chance of playing a greater diplomatic role in the search for peace. Pays to know who your friends are. As well as your enemies.
British spies to get union protection
LONDON (AP) -- Britain's spies are to get trade union protection, but it will be strictly undercover. The staff association for Britain's Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), also known as MI6, is to join up with the First Division Association, the union for senior government managers, the association said Tuesday. The arrangement will extend trade union support to staff of SIS, which handles Britain's overseas intelligence operations. [...] Closely following the announcement, MI6 denied reports of the alleged development of a picket line which utilises stealth technology and invisible placards.
US Warns Against Eating Florida Puffer Fish
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - US regulators on Monday warned Americans not to eat puffer fish caught in the Titusville, Florida, area because they may contain a naturally occurring toxin that made three people ill and can be deadly. Symptoms of the toxic poisoning can include tingling and burning in the mouth and tongue, numbness, drowsiness and incoherent speech, the Food and Drug Administration said. [...] Incoherent speech? Apparently the fish of choice among certain politicians. Sounds like a conspiracy to me.
Jenin Camp Is a Scene of Devastation But Yields No Evidence of a Massacre
From the Washington Post: [...] Interviews with residents inside the camp and international aid workers who were allowed here for the first time today indicated that no evidence has surfaced to support allegations by Palestinian groups and aid organizations of large-scale massacres or executions by Israeli troops. Thus far, about 40 bodies have been recovered, according to the Israeli military and aid groups. "Everybody was thinking mass graves in the way we think of Kosovo," said Guy Siri, deputy director of the U.N. Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East. "I don't think we have seen that." [...] Everybody?
A Movie About Nothing
NEW YORK (Variety) - Miramax Films has inked for worldwide rights to "Comedian," a documentary about Jerry Seinfeld's year on the road doing standup gigs after "Seinfeld" ended its hugely successful NBC run. [...]
Rickwood Field: America's Oldest Ballpark
It's springtime, which means two things. Sleeveless dresses, and the Rickwood Classic. This year's opponent will be the Chattanooga Lookouts (chorus of loud boos, hisses, and sundry insults to manhood and parentage--which have nothing at all to do with the 13-1 butt-kicking they gave us yesterday) and the special guest will be Vida Blue, who played for Birmingham in 1969 before going on to the bigs. The game is coming up Thursday-week (translated for our Southern Language illiterate friends to mean "a week from Thursday") on April 25th, so y'all come on down.
It makes me sad to hear of Robert Urich's passing. I'm just glad no one has trotted out the "Dan Tanna Cashes In His Chips" headline--although I guess E! Online will work it in. Urich seemed like a genuinely good man, and of course, Vega$ was my favorite show for those three magical seasons it was on the air. What was there not to like? Vegas, Dan Tanna, '57 T-Bird in the living room, casual gunplay, and the glorious Phyllis Davis. Judy Landers I couldn't stand, but Miss Phyllis had it going on. Spenser: For Hire was okay, but it suffered from a dearth of showgirls and women in bikinis. (We had to wait a few years until Miami Vice premiered...) Monday, April 15, 2002
Navin Johnson's Dog
Saudi ambassador to Britain glorifies suicide bombers in poem published in Arabic daily CAIRO, Egypt (AP) -- The Saudi ambassador to Britain, a well-known poet in the Arab world, has praised Palestinian suicide bombers and criticized the United States in a poem published in a London-based newspaper. "You died to honor God's word," Ghazi Algosaibi wrote in "The Martyrs," a short poem on the front page of the Saudi-owned Arabic daily Al Hayat on Saturday. The poem praised Ayat Akhras, an 18-year-old Palestinian who blew herself up in a Jerusalem supermarket, killing two Israelis and wounding 25 on March 29, the same day Israeli troops began their incursion into the West Bank to crush Palestinian militias behind a wave of attacks. "Tell Ayat, the bride of loftiness ... She embraced death with a smile while the leaders are running away from death. Doors of heaven are opened for her," wrote Algosaibi, the ambassador in London for more than a decade. Building a hopeful future by eliminating anyone to populate it.
Proto-Orwell, Philosophical Drunk,
And a darned fine rep for the Axis of Weevil! Dr. Weevil gives a demonstration on the proper methods of bloggelation: No doubt a professional writer or teacher of writing could find even more errors in Pseudo-Blair's work -- and perhaps a few in mine. This is just first aid, designed to bring semiliteracy up to bare competence. In doing so, I hope I have at least demonstrated that "mediocre and third-rate" is a compliment coming from this author, since his own style is abysmal and fifth-rate, or tenth-rate, or whatever is the lowest rate. To attack the problem from a different angle, here are Proto-Orwell's Six Rules: 1) Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print. 2) Never use a long word where a short one will do. 3) If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out. 4) Never use the passive where you can use the active. 5) Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent. 6) Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous. Language oppressor! Pedant! Good to have you on board, mate!
Much pixellation has been given over lately to properly identifying persons who strap explosives around their waists and go forth to kill as many innocent persons of other ethnicities as possible, and in doing so, kill themselves. Long time ago, we called 'em anarchists, then there was just plain terrorists, then there was suicide bombers, then homicide bombers, now I see Bjorn Staerk (hey Bjorn!) preferring suicide terrorists.
I believe if we examine the Steve Martin film The Jerk, we can come up with a better name. In one scene, Navin Johnson (born a poor black child) adopts a dog which has just saved the lives of a motel full of guests: Guest Hey mister! You no call that dog "Lifesaver"! Navin No? Guest You call him Shithead! Navin Good! Shithead.
Capital Influx is a Tool of the Illuminati
No, really. Elizabeth Spiers desperately tries to debunk Georgia Representative Cynthia McKinney's prescient vision of George Bush's known involvement in so-called "attack" on the World Trade Center. Elizabeth starts grasping at straws, insisting that such things as "evidence" be produced, and that only "sane" people should be elected, and that people should use this strange thing called "common sense." Listen to her: Good god. How did this woman ever get elected? It's enough to make you lose your faith in the democratic process. Or at least advocate mandating IQ tests for people that want to run for office. ("I'm sorry Mrs. McKinney, but we compared your scores to our minimum benchmark - the test scores of a drunk spider monkey - and well, it doesn't look too good....") Why it just boggles the mind! Of course, the government has long had mind-boggling ray guns that do this, too. I am able to keep them from accessing the 5th Level of my Consciousness by the warp-wave transponder I carry with me. I also have an RF sensitive cloth cranial covering that I wear when outside--the satellites, you know... (Good job, Elizabeth!)
More Ripping Yarns from the Gateway to Happy Living--Tales of Kevin, Postponement of Operation Ranch Hand Two, Head Wounds, Succumbing to One of Life's Two Constants, Kissing Sisters, Ear Lowering, and Shoes that Fit.
Either I'm a psychic, or my life has become an interminable grind of monotonous predictability. I will be setting up a toll-free line tomorrow, and will answer all your questions about the future--only $3.99 per minute. Most of what I had planned Friday at quitting time for the weekend came true with startling accuracy--if you measure accuracy in the broadest possible terms. It did quit raining Friday, so Boy soccer practice went on as scheduled, but there was a special unseen surprise lurking in the murky shadows of the crystal ball. My inlaws decided to take us out to eat, so after practice we went to Palace, which is one of the nicer Chinese restaurants in Trussville. There is always a wait, especially when a herd of Us'ns come in. We finally got a table after 8:15 or so, and were graced with Kevin, our English not good but ever so attentive and Chow Yun-Fat handsome waiter. He made the mistake of playing with Wild Baby, so the rest of the evening the only thing Catherine would do was make moon eyes over him and flirt. We finally got ready to leave when it was nearly closing time, but she wouldn't go until she cornered him coming out of the kitchen with food for someone else. She had to tell him thanks again, and tell him good-bye, and tell him about her chopsticks (or porkchops, as she called them), and loudly sing Ohsaycanyouflagbangled Stars, and tell him good-bye, and tell him about her shoes. Saturday morning, I tried sooo hard to get up early. Had the clock set for 7, which I figured would be late enough to get the sleepy out, but still early enough to get out and start polluting my yard with weed killer. I just couldn't do it. I turned on Weekend Today, and sorta drifted in and out of consciousness and hoped for them to show the chaste and modest Norah O'Donnell. (Some of you may think that Possumblog has become Miss Norah's Fan Club, simply because Google counts the huge number of times I mention her name. The bad thing is most of the hits come from pervgooglers who for some reason think I have pictures of her in her birthday suit. I don't, by the way.) No Norah, so I figured I might as well get up and get dressed and get Boy ready for his game. The dandelions will be there long after I am shriveled up. His game went very well--they won 4-0, and he even managed to stop a ball at the goal. He has never played back before, and I was a bit sceptical of his talents, but the coach put him in late when we were already up 3-0, so it was okay. During the game he got tripped up by another player, who got called for a penalty. Jonathan was a bit woozy when got up and as he cleaned the dirt off his face, the coach on the other team tossed the ball back in to the referee. It arced up and bonked Little right on the top of the noggin. The other coach was terribly embarrassed and ran out to see if he was okay, and our coach ran out there, and I just kind of sat there and chuckled. Some of you might think I'm a cruel old bastard, but I've got four of the toughest little pine knots around, and I knew exactly what he was going to do. His coach asked him if he wanted to come out and he shook his head no--they threw the ball in and he was in full whirling, spit-slinging Tasmanian Devil mode. That's my boy. Got home, got him in the tub, and started doing taxes. I received a very nice e-mail from Marc Velazquez up in Andy Griffith Country who reminded me that e-filing is the way to go. He missed my entry about my constant perpetuation of the penny-pinching Scotman stereotype. I also get some sort of perverse joy out of trying to fill out paper forms--it's part of the longing-for-a-simpler-time part of me, the one which also misses old voting machines with the big straight party levers and little levers by the names and the big curtain that swooshed around you. Good grief, where was I--taxes. I couldn't find my good calculator, which is a nice Casio solar scientific one, but luckily I remembered my best calculator, the mighty Construction Master IV which will do calculations for any kind of construction problems--it will add dimensions in feet, inches, decimal feet, and metric, then spit out the answer in any format you want. It will do rafter solutions, board feet, cost estimating, stair layouts, as well as just plain add up numbers. It is so valuable to me that I keep it hidden in my briefcase under the bed. It's been a while since I used it, but the batteries were still good and I managed not to mislay it during any part of the calculatory process and the best news is that my calculations show I will be getting a refund of 16'-3 1/4". Afternoon was time for Middle Girl's game, so off I went again. This time we had visitors from Vestavia, and very nearly got our clocks cleaned. These girls were pretty darned good and got a couple of lucky kicks. Like last week, out girls managed to play on their side of the field most of the game, but only managed to score two points themselves. Frankly I was happy with a 2-2 score. It was hotter than all get out, too, which they weren't used to. Temperature in the upper 70s, and humidity around 90%. My wife said it rained buckets back at the house, which is only about two miles away, but it was just nasty, damp still air at the park, like walking around in a fog of dirty mop water. Sunday, I got a hair cut after church while Reba and the kids terrorized Target one last time. We are instituting an economic boycott for a while because of casually rude customer service. All the guys with tennis balls on poles in the world will never make up for deliberately antagonizing a paying customer. The associate in question apparently is unaware that a WalMart Supercenter lurks but a mile away, with nice folks who don't think that a fine selection Michael Graves can openers is sufficient to allow churlishness on the part of the employees. My haircut, on the other hand, went off with nary a mistake, except the young lady took it upon herself to go get piles of someone else's hair and sprinkle it on my smock. I knew it couldn't be mine, because it was uniformly gray! Why, I am a YOUNG man! Or, I will be after I go get me some Grecian Formula. I thought at first she had completely cut off my sideburns, until I realized they were just so gray they couldn't be seen. Back when I just had a sprinkling, I would joke to just cut out the gray--I can't joke like that anymore or I'd look like Mr. Clean. Except without the earring. And big muscles. And the final thing of the weekend was the after-church shopping trip to WalMart to buy church shoes for the three younger ones. Middle Girl has been in pain since the last pair of shoes were bought for her, which she said she loved in the store, and which she said fit just fine. The two little ones decided if someone was going to get shoes, they obviously needed some, too. I took this one because my wife was tired and wanted to just sit in the van and read. I also took this because I enjoy having to keep up with three kids in the shoe department. And trying to decipher if they are walking weird because the shoes hurt or they are just new shoes. Or even if they hurt at all. "Do they hurt?" "I don't...well, not really." "Do they HURT?!" "No. I don't think so." "Look, if they hurt, you don't need to get them--let's get something that fits!" "These fit." "But you said they hurt!" "Only a little." "Even a little is too much. What about these?" "Mama doesn't like those." "Try them on anyway, it may be all that fits." "They don't fit." "What about these, they look cute." "Okay." "Do they fit?" "I think so, except on the back." (sound of rest of prematurely gray hair ripping from scalp) "These?" "Well, they feel good." "Walk over there and back." (Flop, flop, flop, come off, flop, flop) "They're riding up and down your heels and they're too loose--they won't stay on!" "They have a bow, though." Repeat two more times. Ah well, such is life. Friday, April 12, 2002
It’s raining here, and it’s been raining just about all day, and just about all day I’ve been hoping for some sort of reprieve so that I can sit at home and vegetablate instead of having to wait in the rain for soccer practice to be over. Every hour, call the hotline-- “All Fields Open.” Ugh.
But, the kids have fun, and if I were at home I’d just be doing stuff like our taxes and laundry and spraying for the gigantic wasps that have decided the garage door is just the place to hang out and play. Luckily tomorrow there will be no heavily laden trips across town and back—both of the kids’ games are at our park. Of course, the games are several hours apart, which means two separate trips. Up early, get dressed, dress Boy, run to park, come back, spray weeds, change weed-killer saturated overalls, take a shower, get redressed in different overalls, find tax forms, find receipts, find good calculator, find pencil, find pen, get Girl to go dress herself, run to park, come back, throw everything on the kitchen table in the floor, start doing taxes, tell kids to not bother Daddy as he fulfills his civic duty, wonder about the nature of the universe, forget to carry my two, fill in Box 16(b) incorrectly, mumble incoherently as Wife tells me to move my lardybutt out of the way so she and the kids can eat supper—Supper!? That late already?!—move papers, scrape food off, lose good calculator, find toy one that works, begin again, finally figure out mistake on Box 16(b), kiss kids goodnight—Good Night!?—start filling out the real tax forms in ink, turn on TV, watch the news, drink the last of the 3 liter Diet Coke using one of the kid’s sippie cups, get up to stretch, wander outside to the back yard, decide to put lid back on compost bin that got blown off in storm, get lost in weeds, turn up weeks later, dirty and disheveled, clutching a small plastic cup and a toy calculator, find out locks have been changed and all my underwear and guns are stacked up in a neat pile by the back door. Wake up sitting at table drooling all over inked tax forms, cuss, print out new ones, decide to go to bed and vow to work on it Sunday afternoon. Sunday—church early, lunch, home, taxes, church late, supper, home, taxes, sleep, wake, dress, kids to school, mail taxes, work. Blog. See y’all Monday, I hope.
Schroeder goes to court over hair dye allegations
HAMBURG, Germany (Reuters) - Lawyers for German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder went to court on Friday to deny that he dyes his dark-brown hair and to try to stop a news agency from repeating such suggestions. No word from Jimmy "The Rug" Traficant on whether he will proceed with a similar lawsuit directed at those who snicker at the large gap visible between his scalp and the small, friendly mammal he affixes to his pate.
VC Shop Talk
Elizabeth Spiers of Capital Influx with an insight into the world of entrepreneurship and venture capital. Lots of good stuff-- My client is a web-services veteran and has made [and lost] significant sums of money in that sector. He's also a limited partner at two of the largest VC funds in New York. These women had no idea what his background was and didn't ask. He, naturally, didn't volunteer. They spent a good 15 minutes explaining how wonderful this "Internet" thing is because it allows you to sell things without geographic restraint. He took it in good stride and responded that he understood the value of the Internet, having made money in web services but expressed some doubts about the inherent value of their business model. Their response was to reiterate the value of the Internet, as if he just didn't "get it." One of them was a little condescending and insinuated that we just weren't visionary enough to appreciate the model. [The fact that the model has been tried and has failed numerous times was apparently irrelevant.] At least no one got stabbed in the head with a pen. Yet. I had to sit in a meeting yesterday with a similar fellow who was trying to get the City to go into the low-cost housing business with an exciting new low-cost building material, which could be assembled in a low-cost factory using low-cost prison inmates; said material only being complete after using said gentleman's finishing machinery, which we would have to buy. All well and good, except the City proper does not build houses, the Housing Authority does. The second little snag showed up when I asked the question "Is this a HUD approved material?" No. "Are you working on getting it approved?" Yeah, I think they are. I tried to explain that no matter how great and wonderful it was, if it wasn't HUD approved, it wasn't going to fly with the Housing Authority. Never did seem to stick. Oh well.
And then there were eleven again
Ray Mikell has decided not to be included in our list of Alabama bloggers. Thanks for putting up with us for so long, Ray--I realize many of the (admittedly conservative) views expressed by the people on the list, both Alabamians and those linked above them, make you uncomfortable. I wish you continued peace and happiness.
Mr. Poopsie ChickenSniffer does the Axis proud
Charles Austin decides to stop the Cycle of Cohen Scourging (temporarily), celebrates his daughter's dodecitude, battles the VC, uncovers a new bit of Axis of Weevil secret mystical lore, and makes fun of bad people. Quite an evening's work! Color Mr. Poopsie LizardTush very impressed.
Wish? Wish? Did someone say "Wish"?
I got this early this morning, and figured the Nigerians must be up to something new, but the subject line says it's "Shamless" so I figure it couldn't hurt to pass it along. From: "Dave Copeland" To: fred@rantburg.com, proteinwisdom@creatical.com, thebluebutton@yahoo.com, terryoglesby@yahoo.com, websterglobe@juno.com, hfienberg@stats.org, greenflash@sympatico.ca, BlogHawk@hotmail.com, webmistress@spleenville.com, gato@juangato.com, iain@iainmurray.org, blogsofwar@yahoo.co.uk, monsalvat@aol.com, andrewiandodge@mac.com, coldfury@bellsouth.net, lpaz250@uts.cc.utexas.edu, peter@publicinterest.co.uk, banana_counting_monkey@hotmail.com, edwardbarlow@aol.com, jgriffincole@hotmail.com, charlesaustin@earthlink.net, aliceintv@netscape.net Subject: Shamless Self Promotion Date: Fri, 12 Apr 2002 06:52:49 -0400 Better late than never...consider this an open invitation to check out my emerging web log.... http://www.davecopeland.com/ I apologize if this is the second time you've gotten this message.
Ashcroft Urged To Drop New Rule On Gun Sales Policy
From the Washington Post: Sen. Richard J. Durbin (D-Ill.) yesterday called on the Justice Department to withdraw a proposal that would sharply reduce the length of time that gun transaction records are kept. Durbin claimed that shortening the time from 90 days to 24 hours would "have a serious negative effect" on keeping guns out of the hands of felons and terrorists. I have said this numerous times on these pages--the 24 hour period in which records may be retained is STATUTORY. After 24 hours, they are to be destroyed. There is no legal means by which these records can be kept without modifying the law. Dave Koppel and Glenn Reynolds discussed this very issue back in December in this National Review Online article. An excerpt: Quite plainly, all this means that (1) records aren't supposed to be kept on legal purchases of firearms, and (2) it's illegal to establish a national gun registration system. This was underscored in the recent case of RSM v. Buckles, 254 F.3d 61 (4th Cir., 2001), where the federal Court of Appeals pointed out that the government's power to scrutinize gun records was limited, and that a national gun-registration system — even one established through "backdoor efforts" — was illegal.
Robber Barron
[...] [Lowell] Barron, the state Senate's president pro tem, uses a goofy yardstick to measure achievement. With the Legislature on the verge of wrapping up both budgets before the end of the session, Barron had this to say: "We should be able to go back home and tell our constituents we've had another successful session," he said, apparently with a straight face. Granted, it is highly unusual for lawmakers to pass budgets before the session's last day. But this is cause for a declaration of success? This is the Legislature that refused to allow the people to vote in November on whether they wanted a citizens' convention to rewrite Alabama's grievously flawed constitution. This is the Legislature that wouldn't allow the people (again!) to vote on changes that would make the state income tax fairer. This is the Legislature that let die a measure that would start cleaning up the state's campaign finance system. This is the Legislature that even as it passed both budgets irresponsibly approved pay raises for educators and state employees, despite the fact the money probably won't be there to pay for those raises. This is the Legislature that during these lean fiscal times found $325,000 extra for themselves for office expenses. Of course it was a success--they managed to make it through one more session without being tarred and feathered.
One of the advantages of having a daddy with a blog:
Mid-State Soccer League--Ages 10 and Younger "Trussville Rockets defeated Hoover Nightmares 6-1. Natalie Davis was leading scorer for the Rockets with three goals with assists from Abby Chiarella and Abbie Friday. Kayla Cobb scored one goal with an assist from Robin Keller, Emily Frazier scored on an assist from Samantha Bhate and Meredith Eyler scored one goal unassisted for Trussville. Katie Jones and Rebecca Oglesby played well on defense. Goalies Kaitlin Sublett made three saves and Savannah Chandler recorded two saves for the winners. Meredith Simmons scored one goal to lead the Nightmares. Other outstanding players were Suzie Rohwedder, Hanna Conger and Dana Stuckey. Goalie Lindsey Voelker made 36 saves for Hoover." As I mentioned Monday, Hoover's goalie was great, although I didn't quite get the potential score right--had she not been so adept, the score would have wound up being 42-6 (as opposed to the 30-5 score I had estimated).
Looks like someone needs a customer service refresher course: Georgia woman stabbed over McDonald's meal dispute
PHENIX CITY, Ala. (AP) -- A McDonald's employee was arrested on second-degree assault charges Wednesday after an upset customer was stabbed in the forehead with a ballpoint pen. Stephanie Renee Coleman, 21, of Phenix City is accused of leaning over the counter and repeatedly stabbing Nelani Walton of Columbus, Ga. in the forehead with a pen, police said. "There was an order that was placed, and, evidently, the customer wasn't pleased with it," Phenix City Police Capt. Jim Hart said. Thursday, April 11, 2002
No NO NO!
Ding-dernit, I go to all the trouble to set up the most feared network of arm-waving, spittle-spraying, pixel-popping bloggers in all of the Greater Trussville area, and then someone comes in here and says Possumblog has a homey, friendly vibe! POPPYCOCK! Hmm? You're too cold? I'm sorry--here, here's a quilt. Anyway, as the Exalted Stirrer of the Pot, such things are an affront to my... pardon? Yes, I took those pictures when we went down to Dauphin Island. Yeah, I know, she's really grown a lot since then. I remember when we were walking through the Audubon Bird Sanctuary and I wound up having to carry her just about the whole way! What a little chunk! Where was I...OH, yeah. An affront. You know, my front yard is full of dandelions. Saturday I've got to get out and spray something on them before they take over the whole place. Reminds me of my dad back when I was in high school--he and I worked and worked on our old yard. Sure looked a whole sight better than mine now. High school. You know, I'm in business with a good buddy of mine from high school Eve Tushnet. Yeah, she and I are in the panty hose business. Higher quality stuff; a little naughty, if you know what I mean. We call'em Eve's Tush Nets. Can't keep 'em on the shelves. Anywho, see you after while. (Thanks, Eve!)
U.S. veterans, Holocaust survivors meet to mark 57 years since Nazi camp's liberation
[...] Buchenwald, where victims were starved, tortured and worked to death, was the first major concentration camp entered by American forces at the end of World War II. "It has an aura of unreality about it," Warren Priest, one of the former medical soldiers, said of his first return to the camp since 1945. "Everything that made Buchenwald the hideous place it was has been removed," he said. "All of the drabness, all of the dirt, all of the bodies, all of the unmentionable sights -- and most of all, all of the odor, which was inescapable." [...] U.S. Gen. George S. Patton was so disgusted by what the Nazis did at Buchenwald that he ordered the citizens of nearby Weimar to come and see the victims. "In all that viewing by all those people, not one of them said `How awful,"' recalled Priest, 80, of Campton, N.H., who was an orthopedic surgical technician at the time. "That was the problem -- that indifference." Was? Is.
But is it as effective as the rhythm method?
Greg Hlatky discusses the wonderful world of patents, in particular #5,163,447. Certainly gives new meaning to the old "didya ever get a song stuck in your head" phrase.
Israel lashes back at Arab critics at U.N. aging conference
[...] But Arab delegates at the weeklong U.N. World Assembly on Aging kept hammering away at Israel, insisting that elderly Palestinians especially were suffering under Israeli occupation. "Palestinian people are being killed every day, they are being displaced, the basic elements of their lives are being destroyed," said the head of the Lebanese delegation, Hussein Majed. "This is an unjustified genocide, this is a liquidation of human beings." Well, given past attempts to mount the moral high ground over this issue, one must assume this means that Hamas will pack Palestinian grannies and grandpas with plastique and roll their wheelchairs into crowds of Jewish civilians.
Great Moments in Headline Writing:
Stapling Hemorrhoids Less Painful Than Removal As with same-day tumor removal, I see fantastic push-market opportunities for Yahoo!--TINY AMAZING WIRELESS X-10 HEMORRHOID STAPLER!
Pulitzer mining in Alabama
The Birmingham Post-Herald's Wade Kwon with comments on the recent award of a Pulitzer to Dianne McWhorter and past awards granted to those writing about Alabama (scroll down the page about 3/4 of the way--as always, I have no idea why the P-H does this with stories.) Not all of Alabama's unintended contributions to the Pulitzer contest have been about racial strife. Other cheery topics that earned wins or nominations include: state prisoners used for drug experimentation (Montgomery Advertiser and Alabama Journal, 1970); the state's high rate of infant mortality (Alabama Journal, 1988); problems in the state tax system and schools (Birmingham News, 1991 and 1994); questionable management practices at the Southern Poverty Law Center (Montgomery Advertiser, 1995); and state constitutional reform (Mobile Press Register, 1995). And while "Carry Me Home" is all about this city, two unusual tie-ins precede it: Pulitzer-prize winning composer Elliott Carter was a nominated finalist again in 1996 for "Adagio Tenebroso." That piece premiered in Birmingham by the BBC Symphony Orchestra. In the 1984 Feature Reporting category, Post-Herald reporter Jay William Hamburg was a nominated finalist for a series documenting the world of a young boxer and his manager. This latest Pulitzer is both albatross and tribute to a city stuck in the spotlight of 1963. (Already the year has seen church bombing suspect Bobby Frank Cherry pop up in two forms, TV movie and real-life courtroom drama.) Upon winning, McWhorter remarked, "I am probably the first person in the world to say, 'I'm so lucky to be from Birmingham, Ala.' " Alabamian by birth ... Pulitzer by the grace of God.
Palestinian office closed because rent not paid
WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Palestine Liberation Organization has been evicted from its downtown Washington office for failure to pay rent. Hassan Abdel Rahman, the PLO's chief representative in Washington, confirmed the eviction Thursday and said the reasons were political. He acknowledged that rental payments had been in arrears but said similar problems in the past had been resolved amicably with the landlord. This time, he said, the landlord would not negotiate. He attributed the eviction to widespread sympathy for Israel in Washington. "Pro-Israeli sentiment is making life a little bit difficult for us," he said. The eviction is part of an effort "to isolate and shut off the Palestinian voice." In effect, the landlord said, "No, we don't want you," Rahman said, adding that his aides have been looking for new quarters. Ah yes, pro-Israeli sentiment again raises its ugly head. Imagine--if there were no Israel--there would be no rent. Everything would be free!
What do eggs and the Axis of Weevil have in common?
Well, among other things I could think of, both are now available in convenient packages of twelve! I received the following yesterday from H.D. Miller: Hi there, I just stumbled across your blog and had to write you. I'm not quite eligible for the Axis of Weevil listing yet, but by August I might well be. I've just accepted a job in the History Dept. at Jacksonville State, and will be moving south in a couple of months...from Manhattan. [Laudatory bits about the Possumblog edited out--there were pages and pages of it. If you count each letter of the alphabet as a page, there was.] I'll be reading you and your fellow Axis of Weevil members in preparation for the big move. Keep up the good work. Ahhhh, excccccelent! Another drawn by the lure of the Cotton State! I did a quick bit of googling to find H.D.'s blog (since he didn't give it in his message) and found it under the banner of Travelling Shoes, which has the following intro: It's been nearly three years since I've attached the "Travelling Shoes" brand name to my writing. The last issue of a zine to bear the name "Travelling Shoes", the much lauded "Authentic Seville" issue, appeared in the late Summer of 1999. That issue was not only my favorite, filled with what I thought was some of my best writing ever, but was remarkably time and energy consuming. Time and energy that subsequently had to go into more mundane projects, like the researching and writing of my dissertation. My life is more managable now. My dissertation will be completely finished and submitted by early next month; I've managed to secure gainful (barely gainful) academic employment for next fall; and my personal life appears to be more or less stabilized. So, I've decided to revive the old zine, first as a blog, then as a more fully developed website, and finally a full-fledged paper publication. And with any luck, this evolution will take place over the course of the summer, ending with a new issue of the paper zine in late August. In the meantime, I'll be posting things here. Most of it will be the usual blog stuff: light commentary on the news of the day mixed with masturbatory ego-stroking and boundless self-regard. Occasionally, I'll try to post pieces that would be more familiar to the regular readers of the old "Travelling Shoes", meaning a combination of history, humor, personal observation, and travel writing. Hopefully you won't find it too terribly boring. With my beady eyes ablaze and my luxuriant fur atingle, I sent a reply to Mr. Miller: Travelling shoes travelling some more, eh? Welcome in advance to Alabama. As you know, the Axis of Weevil Board of Registrars is not real picky about immediate location, noting that a person must be born in, or have lived in, or WANT to live in Alabama--so if you want an early initiation, just say the word. Also, being a sneaking, conniving, Yankee might work out to your advantage in this instance--as you may have read in earlier installments, the Axis of Weevil Gift Pack also contains an allotment of four comely, busty co-eds who shave their legs and wear makeup, but this is ONLY for those poor souls who live OUTSIDE the South (We know hard hard such things are to come by elsewhere). If you complete your handy email-in response card now, you can get the co-eds delivered forthwith. If you wait until you get here, you will have to select your own Gamehens at Jacksonville. It's up to you. Knowing a good deal when he saw it, H.D. gave his final answer: Hmmmm, well that's an offer that's mighty hard to refuse, so count me in. Make me an official Weevilist.(Weevilo?) As for being a yankee, I can only claim to be half yankee, and only if being from California counts as Yankee. And at that, my mother's family is all from Texas, Tennessee and North Carolina. (Although, my Father's family is pure Yankee from Pennsylvania.) In any event... Cry Havoc and let slip the dogs of Blog!!! Bwahhhahhhahhhhaaaa! The world is OURS! Sorry. That slipped out. In any event, to answer H.D.'s questions, being from California is not considered being from Yankeeland. (Much to the relief of all who live above the Mason-Dixon Line). So then, by the mighty power vested in me by the Alabama Department of Corrections and by the voices in my head, the right honorable H.D. Miller is hereby baptised into the Greater Alabama Artillery and Haiku Society, better known to some as the Axis of Weevil, with all of the burdens and mental problems concomitant thereto. Given his predilection for travel, Mr. Miller has been named as the Axis of Weevil Travel Coordinator and Cruise Director, and Special Emissary to William Shatner/Priceline. As is our odd and socially-unacceptable custom, we are FedExing H.D. his very own Axis of Weevil Gift Pack, the contents of which have been discussed ad nauseum upon these very blog pages. We wish Mr. Miller a safe journey home from the wilds of Manhattan, and are sending a warning to the authorities in Calhoun County. IN A RELATED STORY... The Ole Miss Conservative Patrick Carver has decided that the South deserves another closely allied army of anti-idiotarians: Calling all Magnolia Staters Upon taking the advice of Lee Ann, I am officially announcing the creation of the "Delta Entente" (though "Catfish Confederacy" has a ring to it... and so does the "Magnolia Bloc") an alliance open to all bloggers hailing from the Mighty State of Mississippi. Together, we shall defend the honor of our fair state against savage Yankees and other scum forces. So if you fit the profile, please drop me a line. The Axis of Weevil wishes to congratulate Mr. Carver for calling up the forces of M-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-crooked letter-crooked letter-I-humpback-humpback-I. We look forward to a long and fruitful alliance in the battle to spread the goodness of the South far and wide. Blogspeed, my friend! AND, IN YET ANOTHER DEVELOPMENT... Tennessee Naval Expeditionary Force Rear Admiral Rich Hailey of Shots Across the Bow notices that there are more than enough Southern bloggers to recreate the chariot race in Ben Hur or to have a SOUBLOGCON get-together for toasting marshmallows and playing tag. Such an outlandish idea has the full support of the Possumblog, and hopefully among all the Alablogistanis in the Axis of Weevil. Rich suggested a possible location of Atlanta--who else out there has some ideas about this? Contact Rich at rhailey931@yahoo.com
Man, talk about burying the lede!
My hate-spewing, ignorant buddy finishes up a particularly bloody idiotisection: Did I learn more from this quick tour than I learned from the day’s papers? Yes and no. Newspapers build the house. Weblogs furnish it. The more I read, the more I learn. The more kaleidoscopic the links, the more I can hope to understand what is going on. The warblogger world is more diverse than it appears, but it has one unifying meme: Never again. This used to be the oath of the Jews, but it’s shared now by millions who saw the towers tumble. As an unreflective knee-jerk insular America-firster gun-pointing babe-clenching irony-deprived ahistorical cretin, I couldn’t possibly tell you why.
You ever have one of those dreams?
No, not one of those, one of those where you wander around campus in the dark, looking for Room 67-E, and the campus is different somehow and you go by the stadium, but it's in the wrong place and you ask the campus policeman who appears out of nowhere how to get to Ghrlsmsdk KJkdll Hall, Room 67-E, and he points at a small house that wasn't there earlier and you go in and it says "This is Room 6E-7" but you go in anyway and it's huge inside and there are all these people waiting on you to start your lecture, but you aren't supposed to be lecturing because you're still in high school and you lost your locker and then BEEP BEEEP BEEEEP the alarm goes off and you get up and see a couple hundred visitors from InstaPundit standing around waiting for you to write something worthwhile? Well, hey y'all. It don't get no better. But thank you for dropping by anyway--the place is a mess and I don't have my War Profiteer Jar set up (dang it all) but I wasn't expecting company. There is some Grapico in the refrigerator, and we can have some pimiento cheese sandwiches when I get back from the store. Make yourself at home (sorry about all the possum droppings) and I'll be back in a bit with exciting news about a brand new Axis of Weevil member. Wednesday, April 10, 2002
Brain Tumors Safely Removed on Outpatient Basis
Which can only mean one thing: daytime TV, once a bastion of rent-a-lawyers, psychic hotlines, and exercise product infomercials, will be inundated with ads for brain tumor specialists. ARE YOU SUFFERING FROM A BRAIN TUMOR!? DON'T HAVE TIME FOR A LENGTHY HOSPITAL STAY!? COME ON DOWN TO BRAINY BOB MD'S DISCOUNT TUMOREMOVER STORE!!! WEAK CREDIT-BAD CREDIT-OR NO CREDIT AT ALL! AND UNLIKE SOME PLACES, [Insert graphic showing big fat greedy doctor smoking a stogie] YOU GET TO TAKE THE TUMOR WITH YOU! YOU ARE GUARANTEED TO HAVE YOUR TUMOR REMOVED THE SAME DAY, OR WE'LL GIVE YOU A TRIP TO DISNEYWORLD! CALL NOW TO SET UP YOUR APPOINTMENT! (Some restrictions may apply) [insert clip of young woman pointing to bandaged head--"Brainy Bob MD's Tumoremover Store makes me wish I had TWO-MORE!"] Of course, Yahoo! will probably go into heavy rotation with pop-ups for AMAZING TINY X-10 WIRELESS TUMOR REMOVAL! And I'll get spammed by Nigerians who want me to invest in walkup tumor removal stands in Lagos, and all I have to do is allow them to transfer $30,000,000 in setup funds from the Abacha Medical Clinic into my bank account for three days. ACT NOW!
A Brief History of the Future in the Middle East
James Lileks' Newhouse column of today. Fresh spasms of anti-Semitism have flared in Europe -- and why should anyone be surprised? Europeans wrote the book on anti-Semitism. (It's called "Mein Kampf," and remains a best seller in the bazaars of the Middle East.) Some have wondered whether the easy, open contempt for Israel shown by European opinion makers has emboldened the Jew-kickers and synagogue-burners. Perhaps. It's clear that Europe's leaders are reflexively pro-Palestinian, just as they accuse America of being automatically pro-Israel. The difference, of course, is that Europeans have to defend men who pack girls with nails and explosives and send them off to die. Europeans are always up to that job, however. A lifetime of marination in sophisticated casuistry of modern philosophy has prepared them well. Suicide bombing? Mere extroverted existentialism. If Hamas sent a pregnant suicide bomber into an Israeli nursery, many would insist that she was simply exercising her right to choose. Yeah, he would say that. hes just anothre one of thoos war profiteres shacking his tip jar and trying to sell his book. he thinks that becase he spells right that hes so great and wonderufl. he doe'snot really use that money to buy dog foods, you know. I know for a fact that he get's probably about $10,000.0 A DAY and spends it on lavish parties where he and his wife Barry (who is also married to Tim Blair) serve blood pastries and eat pork. Is it any coincidense that he was not in New York on 9/11? Or in Washington?
Axis of Weevil Potency on Rise--Now Has Biggerstaff Than You!
The terrifying spread of Weevily infestation continues unabated with the addition of Craig Biggerstaff's Page Fault Interrupt. I checked my double-secret Possumcounter the other day and found young Craig standing by himself, looking forlornly at all the other members of the Heart of Dixie Barbecue and Latin Club cavorting and frolicing among themselves, wondering why he had not been invited to frolic and cavort. As he said then, "Of course I'm hurt, but y'all didn't ask, and it wouldn't be proper to invite myself. Besides, I'm no good at secret handshakes." Being the kind, sensitive marsupial I am, I wrote Craig and verbally abused him for being so pitiful. Using both "dadgummit" and "consarn it" along with assorted other examples of downhome thesaurus abuse, I told Craig to give us a little bit of information to make sure the paperwork is in order. (As with all autocratic, totalitarian, axial-type deals, your papers MUST be in order.) Craig wrote back the following: I was born and raised in Huntsville, and now have lived in or around Houston, Texas almost as long as in Alabama. Maybe that dilutes my credentials. [Note: First order of business will be a trip to the therapist to work on that inferiority complex!] Craig continues: True, when the king of our suburban jungle left a dead squirrel on the patio yesterday, I put said squirrel in the trash and not the stock pot. I have never picked cotton (although my mother has, and misses no opportunity to lord it over me). I use turn signals. [Note: It is permissable to dispose of cat-gnawed vittles. No one should eat after the cat. Or eat the cat. Alas, it appears there is another issue for Craig and the therapist to discuss--imagine, someone who has a compulsion to use turn signals!] On the other hand, I learned to drive on a 1962 Ford Falcon, out on the gunnery ranges of Redstone Arsenal. A flashing red signal means you U-turn and go back. I spent many a childhood day at my grandparents' farm shelling pea after pea after pea. I can drive U.S. 72 in my sleep and have many times. [Note: Now we're talking! Learned to drive on a gunnery range--one must logically deduce that he learned to shoot on a highway, so he's way up there in the rankings] I definitely miss having mountains around. And seasons -- real seasons, not summer from April to October with 95% humidity and mosquitoes the size of buzzards. [Note: Hmmm. Apparently TVA, NASA and the Army were able to conjure up some sort of weather-modifying, bug-getting-rid-of machine while he lived here, and used it to chase all that stuff south of the Tennessee River.] I take a moment here to warn the gentle reader that the following passage may be too graphic. In it, Craig admits to being an atheist: However, I refuse to take a position on UA or Auburn; call me infidel, but I don't have a dog in that fight. Although it may horrify some, such an alternative lifestyle does not disqualify one from being considered for membership in the Axis of Weevil. We are Tolerant of all such (admittedly insane) activities, and our Ministry for Inclusiveness and Diversity actively encourages those who have dirty, criminal, proclivities such as this to feel comfortable interacting with others. However, for the sake of the children, we ask that you use the outdoor smoking area by the staff parking lot when expressing your unbelieving side. All in all, it appears Craig fully meets the stringent requirements of membership within the Axis of Weevil (the secret handshake instructions will be forwarded later) and so is duly invested into the Benevolent and Protective Order of the Yellowhammer, with all the rights and duties falling thereto. Craig will be receiving the justly famed Axis of Weevil Gift Pack, consisting of Dreamland ribs; Jim Dandy grits; a gallon jug of Milo's sweet tea; a gun rack from Mark's Outdoor Sports for his pickup (or other suitable veehickle); a package of Bubba's Beef Jerky (according to Dr. Weevil, this is homemade and is available only at the gas station at the end of Highway 82 in Bibb County); and a coupon for free underpinning for his trailer. As the Axis of Weevil's new Bull Moose Party Chairman, Craig urges all of you to "Blog softly and carry a Biggerstaff." Tuesday, April 09, 2002
UPDATE re: William Henry Sheppard
Axis of Weevil Plenipotentiary of ISBNs and Shushing Mac Thomason notes that Sheppard will be first in line when the Ministry of Morale begins accepting nominations for the next award for Southern culture, which will honor those of our number who have shuffled off this mortal coil. (As mentioned at some indeterminate time in the past, this high honor will be known as the Haintie.) Mac writes: "I was thinking of nominating (Stillman College's own!) Sheppard for a Haintie. Seeing how I work at the William H. Sheppard Library, and did a display on Sheppard -- actually two." Mac also recommends another book which came out recently on Sheppard which Robert Heath, the Dean of the Library, helped research. Mac didn't give the title, but I assume it's William Sheppard Congo's African American Livingstone by William Phipps. (Correct me if I've gotten that wrong).
Blog Scare!
From Moira Breen: WE INTERRUPT THIS IRREGULARLY SCHEDULED POSTING. I'll probably be won't be doing any blogging for a while. Aaaaaaagh! AAAGH!!!!! And please check back in a week or two Dadgummit, don't scare me like that! "I won't be doing [fill in blank] for a while" is my passive-aggressive shorthand for "I won't ever do [blank] again!" Anyway, consider this your stern lecture. And thanks for the continued plugs for the Axis of Weevil and Possumblog. All of us eagerly await your next post.
Carry Me Home
From the Mobile Register : Birmingham native Diane McWhorter received the Pulitzer Prize Monday for her impassioned and often deeply personal history of her hometown's epic racial struggle, "Carry Me Home: The Climactic Battle of the Civil Rights Movement." [...] "Birmingham's in my bloodstream. Alabama, it's the crucible. It's the state that's working out its race problems," she said. McWhorter is a longtime contributor to The New York Times, and to the commentary pages of USA Today. Although other Alabama natives have received the Pulitzer Prize in journalism for newspaper work -- among them in recent years Howell Raines (from Birmingham) and Rick Bragg (from a community outside Jacksonville), of The New York Times -- only one other came to mind on Monday who had received it for a book: Harper Lee of Monroeville, in the fiction category, for her novel, "To Kill A Mockingbird." And from The Birmingham News: [...] What this says about Birmingham is it's an important place in our national story and the Pulitzer says so," McWhorter said. "I'm so happy I'm from Birmingham." The book, which took McWhorter 18 years to complete, chronicled the civil rights movement in Birmingham and the city's staunch resistance to desegregation. It climaxed with the 1963 Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing that left four girls dead and a nation horrified. Not only does McWhorter's book spotlight unsavory aspects of Birmingham's history, but attempts to answer how the city could engender such violence as the church bombing. McWhorter tells the tale through the Rev. Fred Shuttlesworth and other courageous local civil rights leaders who were often overshadowed by the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. Earlier I posted about the "but"-sayers, those who tacitly condone murder as just in the face of perceived injustice. For those who think strapping explosives about you and killing innocents is the way to celebrate your moral authority, you might be well served to read a bit about some other people who found themselves in dire straits. They served, and continue to serve, a prophet the Koran says is worthy of respect. Their prophet, who said "Blessed are the peacemakers," caused them to stand unflinchingly in the face of the spite and anger and death. They were poor. They were oppressed. They were denied their just rights as citizens of the United States. But the lunch counters at Loveman's and Woolworth's were not integrated by suicide bombers. They do not sit in the mayor's offices of our cities or in the desks of the State Capital because they slit the throats of the former holders of those seats. They had faith in something greater than themselves, whether it was God, the humanity of their fellow citizens, or the desire to give their children a better world. And they acted upon that faith, not in blind hatred, but in the assurance of a higher moral authority who said "Love your neighbor as yourself." Is it just possible they could be better role models for you and your children than roving gangs of murderers? (Update--I was checking my referrer logs and noted that Odawg of Odawg's Blizzog came up with the very same argument two whole days ago. And said it much better: Desperate people don't just blow themselves up. Rather, they first search for leaders and ideas to give them hope or a course of action. Sometimes, those leaders are good people - Mandella, King, Ghandi. Sometimes, however, those people are evil, like Hitler, Mussolini, or Mao. Yasser Arafat and groups like Hamas, Hezbollah, and the Al-Aqsa Brigades aren't asking people like Rosa Parks to take moral, non-violent stands against people they believe are oppressing them. Instead, they're convincing their followers to commit heinous acts. If the Palestinians were not lead by the likes of Arafat, but rather by a Mandella or Ghandi, does anyone doubt they would have their nation, their freedom, and peace, or that at least their future would be brighter? The homicide bombers aren't victims of Israeli oppression, lashing out from hopelessness and despair. Rather, they are victims of immoral leaders who have convinced them to commit atrocities. They have been socialized and indoctrinated into a culture of hate and destruction. And it is all because of their leaders.)
The Black Livingstone
Interesting review of Pagan Kennedy's book, Black Livingstone A True Tale of Adventure in the Nineteenth-Century Congo. [...] William Henry Sheppard was born in Virginia in 1865, near the end of the Civil War, and grew up in the era of Jim Crow racial segregation. Young William contributed to the family income by toting packages, hay or anything else he could find, and at the age of 11 moved in with a white family to work as a stable boy. As a child, Sheppard probably heard about the famous adventures of Henry Morton Stanley, who in 1871 uttered his famous words (“Dr. Livingstone, I presume”) to the explorer and missionary Dr. Stanley [sic, David] Livingstone. Like most others in the Western world, Sheppard likely knew little else about the “dark continent.” For profit-hungry Europeans, including Belgium’s King Leopold, Africa was the place to seek fame and fortune. As a missionary, Sheppard saw Africa as a place to perform God’s work—but that wouldn’t stop him from seeking glory as well. Sheppard had already displayed ambition and a quick intelligence before his adventures in the Congo. He was a member of the first graduating class at Booker T. Washington’s Hampton Institute and later studied for the ministry at Tuscaloosa Theological Institute (now Stillman College). Sheppard toiled in the work-study program at Hampton, laboring on a farm 10 hours a day and then attending classes for another two hours. [...] One of Sheppard’s greatest feats was to find his way into the forbidden city of the Kuba kingdom. For nine years, Europeans had unsuccessfully sought this great city, which was rumored to be filled with riches. Sheppard’s unrelenting will and clever tactics, besides his mastering of the Kuba language, made him the first Westerner to visit the Kuba city. He emerged not just unharmed, but was declared the reincarnation of “Bope Mekabe,” an ancestral king. Sheppard insisted that a mistake had been made, but the king replied that after such a long journey, naturally, he would have forgotten his true identity. This event is one of the most engaging parts of the book and explains the unique position that Sheppard held as the ghost of a returning son, the “black white man.”
Allowing yourself to be eaten by the tiger
Dr. Frank's comments on the futility of appeasement: Tony Adragna has it right: Bush, "walking a tightrope between the State Department and DoD," lost his balance because of the recent round of unexpectedly brutal suicide attacks. His speech attempted to restore this "balance," by giving everyone a bit of what they wanted to hear. (In this sense, it was rather "Clintonian.") At best, the balancing act may buy a little time, at least until it becomes clear that the Powell mission has failed-- if there is, in fact, anyone to whom this is unclear. At some point, though, the administration will have to make a choice. None of the options are particularly enticing, but if they, like their predecessors, choose appeasement, they will in effect be giving the green light to further suicide attacks. Again. You know, we used to hear the phrase "Do not negotiate with terrorists" a lot. That's because it works. Whenever you make crime pay, expect to have criminals.
Whacking the Daily Wanker
Charles Austin takes on the unenviable task of trying to reason with the unreasonable. (The Sine Qua Non Archives appear to be acting up at the moment--the entire URL for the post is here, but it may show up as not being available.)
Cargo plane sets down in pasture: cows, pilot unharmed
WALKER SPRINGS, Ala. (AP) -- A Clarke County cow pasture became an impromptu runway when a cargo plane had engine trouble and aimed for the only clear patch of land below. The pilot of the plane, owned by Bessemer-based Air Carriers Inc., reported engine trouble around 8:30 a.m. Monday, company owner Tommy Morrow said. The pilot, whose name has not been released, touched down just inside the barbed wire fence of the grassy pasture, rolled about 200 yards and halted just short of a line of trees. But according to farm owner Annie Mae White, the cows didn't seem to mind, and all bovines were present and accounted for. "They were standing around, eating and looking at everybody and doing their thing," said Nancy Vrocher, White's daughter. It's a shame Gary Larson is retired.
Al-Aqsa’s next logical step
From Mr. Lileks' Bleat of today, on suicide bombing: Had a horrible thought today: how long until Al-Aqsa sends pregnant women to commit suicide bombings? There’s certainly nothing in their moral construct that would prohibit it. They’re canny enough to know that many Westerners would find this Horribly Symbolic - not the act itself, of course; we’ve digested (and excreted) the concept of female suicide bombers and the attendant carnage. No, many would insist that we regard anew how horrible the situation must be, that women would kill their unborn babies in protest. The inhumanity of the act - the unspeakable atrocity of the act - would be taken up by some as proof of a greater atrocity visited on the Palestinian people. The symbolic denial of a collective Palestian future by the occupation would be equated with the actual denial of the future of an individual Palestinian child. Mind you, no one would support it . . . but. Always a but. The men who send these children out to kill know their enemy, which is to say us. They know well that some in the West wouldn’t even consider a Manichean stance unless the name was changed to Personchean - and even then, it’s too simplistic. Some in the West insist on a complex approach to moral inquiry, as if they want an innoculation against uncomfortable truths. Stupid people are full of cerrtainty - why, Yeats said as much. Smart people, wise people, nuanced people are more comfortable analyzing evil than confronting it - as if understanding the history of handgun development will keep the one pointed at your head from firing. Hence we would actually debate whether a pregnant suicide bomber in her first trimester was exercising her right to choose for herself, while simultaneously committing an act of impositional choice in the Stockhausian sense, one that had extenuating circumstances that required a historical and cultural perspective . . . I had similar thoughts this weekend while mowing and meditating--including the maddening "We abhor these actions--but..." used by the morally bankrupt to justify murder and various lesser crimes. One thing I asked myself was if suicide bombers were blowing up abortion clinics, what would the terror apologists and "peace activists" say? Want the "cycle of violence" to stop? Stop saying "But." Monday, April 08, 2002
Irish priest accused of heresy for denying divinity of Jesus
[...] Rev. Andrew Furlong was suspended from his duties in December after saying Christ was neither a savior nor divine. In an article posted on his personal Web site last year, Furlong wrote that Jesus "was neither a mediator nor a savior, neither superhuman nor divine; we need to leave him to his place in history and move on." He also called Jesus a "mistaken and misguided" prophet. Furlong, the rector of Trim, a parish northwest of Dublin, has refused an invitation to resign from Richard Clarke, the Anglican Bishop of Meath and Kildare. Asked by Possumblog's Irish correspondent Pat Slagging why on earth he was even a priest in the first place if he didn't believe the teachings of the denomination, Furlong said "Oh, it's the all for the colleens, gom! I can't get enough of these Irish birds, you know."
As promised, I have sent a notification to Dr. Rice via her e-mail address at Stanford to let her know of being awarded the Croix de Grits. And as promised, I turned on the ranting-hokey-dumb-guy filter, so she might even read it. (And yes, I know I'll probably get some sort of autoresponder message that Condi can't play right now, but you never know...) Mark Byron said he thought we had "a snowball's chance in Mobile" of actually getting a response, but hey, I'm a sucker for Lost Causes.
Leader of the De Sade Group
War Liberal and fuzzy bunny lover Mac Thomason's take on organic food and Dr. Gregory Pence's book about such. In it, we are astounded to find out that gu-anner is loaded with E. coli. Imagine that. It's like my good friend Earnest T. Bass said: "I lived 6 months with a posstum and a raccoon too! That's where I learned to wash my food before I eat it." Truer words were never spoken.
Arab hard-liners applaud Saddam for stopping oil exports in support of Palestinians
The order sent oil prices up, but analysts said the cutoff would not affect world oil supplies because other major members of the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries have not agreed to join Iraq, and other producers likely would make up the difference. Thank you, dearest brothers, for smiting the Zionist cabal with you devoted willingness to stop selling your oil. Hope you don't mind if we get rid of a bit of ours.
Seoul Food
From Sunday's Birmingham News, yet another Great Moment in Headline Writing, and an interesting article on the efforts to land the Hyundai plant in Alabama. Setting aside the arguments for and against corporate welfare, and whether such incentive packages are beneficial to taxpayers, the article shows that there is much more to winning this game than simply throwing money around. Believe it or not, it takes a bit of, dare I say it, sophistication; along with a big slab of luck. A couple of excerpts: [...] Siegelman brought in some help new University of Alabama System Chancellor Malcolm Portera. Portera had helped lure Mercedes-Benz to Alabama in 1993 and Nissan to Mississippi in 2000. Plus, Portera knew B.H. Ahn, the Hyundai executive in charge of the company's plant project. Luck. "I also got a phone call from him the first week I was here," Portera said. "He said, `Dr. Portera, I am now head of Hyundai Automotive Group. If we come here can we work with the University of Alabama?' And I said, `You got that right.'" Sophistication. [...] Siegelman hopped a plane, along with House Speaker Seth Hammett, D-Andalusia, and others to travel to D.C. to sell Hyundai on Alabama. Siegelman had already been working on one aspect of his sales pitch speaking Korean. The governor was coached on how to say "good morning," "how are you?" and "welcome to the United States." But as his plane approached the capital, the governor began to wonder if he was saying the phrases correctly. "He called the Korean embassy to try it out on them first," Hammett said. Sophistication. When Siegelman finally delivered the phrases to Kim, the gesture registered immediately. "President Kim asked me if I had ever been to Korea," he said. Luck. [...] A helicopter ride was scheduled to Hyundai's research center 100 miles away, but an overcast sky grounded those plans, so the group piled into a Hyundai limousine. At the R&D center, Siegelman watched the company test cars in the wind tunnel and even got to watch a crash test. "President Kim looked at me and said, 'I hate this part,' as the crash test was starting," Siegelman recalled. On the ride back to company headquarters, Siegelman got lots of face time with Kim, as snarled traffic made the trip last nearly nine hours. "You get to know somebody well when you're trapped in the back of a limo with them for that long," Siegelman said. "We really got a chance to talk about more than just business." Luck. [...] December was spent exchanging telephone calls, information and Christmas cards. The next month, Hyundai wanted to tour the final six sites. After touring Mississippi, Hyundai officials landed in Montgomery on the afternoon of Jan. 22. Siegelman met them at the airport something Hyundai officials would later tell Hammett no other governor bothered to do. Sophistication. That night Alabama officials were ready to put on the ritz. Jacque Shaia, president of the Economic Development Partnership of Alabama, and her staff aimed to make an impression at The Legends golf resort in Prattville. Or a series of impressions. When the Korean officials arrived in their rooms, they found gift baskets featuring a number of Alabama-made products: recordings by Alabama musicians, books about the state, paintings by Pell City artist Wayne Spradley, peanuts from the Wiregrass. Korean teas were placed in each room. So were robes embroidered with "Stars fell on Alabama." A note in English and Korean invited the guests to a feast in the resort's dining hall. Taking no chances, Shaia briefed the waiters and cooks on the importance of the dinner and the need for secrecy. Shaia's favorite flower orchids decorated the tables and the dining hall. It was a good choice. Sophistication. "It turns out one of the Hyundai executives was head of the orchid society in Korea," she said. "It was just serendipity." Luck. Hyundai executives and Alabama officials dined on hot and sour soup, Salade a la Normandy, Gulf red snapper en papillote and a spicy beef dish called bulgogi. Dessert was lemon ice cream and cream cheese, white and dark chocolate mousse with raspberries, and fresh fruit with poppyseed yogurt dressing. Menus were written in both English and Korean, as was a note that awaited the executives when they returned to their rooms wishing them a good night. Sophistication. "President Kim came to me several times during the dinner and said how touched he was by the hospitality," Shaia said. Luck. On Feb. 25, Hyundai said it was in the final stages of deciding between Montgomery and Glendale, Ky., meaning that sites in Opelika and Mississippi and Ohio were out of the running. Three days later, Hyundai told the state to send its economic development delegation, headed by ADO Director Todd Strange, to Los Angeles in just four days for an official presentation. Again the EDPA swung into action, this time putting together a written proposal for Hyundai. Shaia and her team opted for something more special than the typical three-ring-binder. Twenty-five suede-bound, hand-crafted books were created using rice paper and silk sheets. On the front, Korean characters urged "a warm welcome," just under a metal Hyundai car emblem rounded up from dealerships. "We were going for the `wow' factor," Shaia said. Inside the book were pictures of orchids. "By now, we knew," she said. There was a quote from Confucius, "Friends of one and the same head are just as sweet as the aroma of an orchid." In the book, a letter from the governor touted the virtues of Alabama and the Montgomery site. Siegelman pledged to create the Hyundai Center for Automotive Excellence, which would become "the foremost center for automotive research, design and manufacturing in the 21st century." He also promised to name a stretch of Interstate 65 the "Hyundai Expressway." Sophistication. The book also took a subtle jab at Kentucky, which was having trouble securing the last 111 acres of its Glendale site because a family was unwilling to sell. There were repeated assurances that Montgomery's site would be available. Bumpin' and rubbin'. You NASCAR types know what I mean. [...] Kentucky and Alabama officials spent April Fool's Day on the telephone fine-tuning proposals, making new promises and trying to read the tea leaves. At 8:35 p.m. Alabama time, Siegelman's phone rang. It was Hyundai President Kim. "Governor, I am calling to tell you we are going to build the plant in Alabama," Kim told Siegelman, who pumped his fist in the air to let his staff know it was good news. Whether you like Siegelman or not (and you all know how I feel about him) and whether you believe such jiggery-pokery with the public purse is right or wrong, the Alabama Development Office did their derned homework.
Ahh, back to work. Now I can get some sleep!
What a weekend. But before we get to that, please update your links to Dr. Weevil's website, which is now at www.doctorweevil.org. The good doctor's new site looks very nice, and the weevils have receded into the background for all of you who were given the willies by seeing them in all of their buggy glory. Speaking of which, Dr. Weevil notes that "There seems to be a bug in MT 2.0, at least for some browsers." Hmmm. Anyway, as promised, I got up and did my Saturday morning meditation routine, which consisted of 1 1/2 hours of groggily being led behind a droning lawnmower, beating down the dandelions to a more socially acceptable height. Cutting grass in the morning actually is sort of therapeutic--it's not 95% relative humidity and 110 degrees (C or F--after a certain temperature, you cease to care), the pollen is damp enough not to float around so much, and the sound of the lawn mower drowns out my muttering to myself, so I can carry on a very nice conversation with myself and solve world problems and the neighbors are none the wiser. And neither is the world. Maybe if we gave each Palestinian a lawn mower. [Insert inappropriate comment here about suicide lawn mowers] My soccer girl and her team did great, soundly thrashing the upstart Riverchase team by 5-1. These little girls really played well; they spent most of the time on the opponent's side of the field, and if every goal shot had been accurate, the score would have been 30-5. Our only problem was that our girls started their kicks a bit too far away, and they didn't quite have the oomph to get past the goalie (who got a real workout, and all things considered should have been Riverchase's MVP). There was a reporter there from the Birmingham News, so hopefully they will get their pictures in the paper Wednesday. Afterwards, we made the long trip back to the house, stopping at McDonald's to poke a thumb in some anti-globalizedPETAMarxisthealthnuts eyes and get some Happy Meals. I got some of the new almost lifelike white meat chicken strip product, which was almost pretty good. They had just come up out of the oil and were really hot. I kept trying to eat them and wondering if there was a way I could sue Mickey D's for giving me hot food. Those bloody capitalists! Making their money while I scorch the top of my hard palate! Got home, got Soccer Girl changed and got Franklin the Ford loaded up with gardening tools to go up to do yard work at church with the 3rd to 6th graders. I am constantly amazed that these things I "plan" manage to come off so well. They are always seemingly thrown together, but they always turn out to be fun for everyone. And luckily the kids were focused--there was about three hours worth of weed-pulling, trash-grabbing, hole-digging, plant-planting, and van-washing--and very little chasing around and making messes, and they had a good time. We fed them pizza and ice cream and then had a short devotional. It was from the Sermon on the Mount, when Jesus was using the flowers and birds as an example of God's providence for mankind, which I thought might work well considering they had just been outside digging and planting and playing with worms and stuff. It probably would have been a bit more motivational if my baby girl didn't run in and start talking to me during the middle of it, or if my son could have figured out a way to tell me his joke after we got home. But of such is the kingdom of heaven, so it's hard to get too upset. Got through and took out the trash and locked up, then had to roll Franklin down the hill to get him to crank. The winter was not kind to his battery (which, now that I think of it, is relatively new and should be returned for a replacement). I had to jump him off at the house, and with amazing prescience decided it would be best to park him headed downhill when I got to the church building. I just hope I run as well when I have 255,000 miles on my odometer. He really needs a valve job; just about every upshift is accompanied by a deafening shotgun-blast backfire (and I imagine a nice little flamethrower action out the tailpipe). Which I think is somewhat humorous, except when the police are around. At least it doesn't stink, unlike the backfirings of his owner. Sunday was busy as usual. Church, then you get buffet at The Big Dragon, yes okay? This place is kind of tucked out of the way next door to a tanning parlor in Trussville, in an older strip shopping center nigh unto impossible to get to. But they always do a good business. It's unique, at least to me, because for some reason they have two white teenagers as waitresses. It's just so odd to see, since most of the mom-and-pop places only hire family, or Chinese speakers. These two definitely aren't up on their Mandarin, so I'm at a loss. Mom and pop and aunt all speak English, so the only thing I can think is that they needed interpreters for the East Alabama dialect. Got home and read the paper (all the way through-hurray) and got Soccer Girl ready for her skills session with Keith the English Soccer Hooligan, who was late for the skills session and did not seem to be his normal chipper self. I had to leave to go (yep, you guessed it) to the church building for a meeting, and met back up with longsuffering wife and nonlongsuffering kids right before our evening services started. Last night was my turn to lead singing. (We have six guys who take turns) I learned how to lead singing very late in life, and reading music is not something I can quickly do by sight (meaning I have to stick to songs I know pretty well), and I have a vocal range of approximately 6 notes (none of which are above G), and my unamplified voice projects to right about the third pew, but despite all that, I can do a pretty good job. Except for last night. For some reason, there was a group of really loud, off-key, slow-tempoed folks right there in the middle who never got it together. It's not like these were hard songs--it was some of the hippest of the late 19th- and early 20th Century's Greatest Hits, and for once, it wasn't like I was singing them wrong; but nothing I did could herd them all back to the same set of notes. I thought long and hard about calling down fire from heaven on them, but figured after a while that it wouldn't be right, and it would mess up the upholstery. Oh well. We ate supper at the Ruby Tuesday down the street, and had one more odd thing. We are regulars at this particular place, so we know all of the waiters and waitresses, but we had a new girl last night. She was great and friendly and talked to the kids--when Boy said he was 7 1/2, she said she was 20 1/2--and just generally fussed over us and was a good waitress. Toward the end of the meal, she got to talking to my wife and I about kids and the fact that she was four months pregnant. No cravings or sickness, but she was concerned that she had not gained any weight. Reba gave her some mom-to-be tips, especially not to worry about gaining weight, it would come. The waitress joked to me that she would probably balloon up to 300 pounds, and then said the oddest thing I've ever heard a girl say--"From 140 to 300, that would be something, allright!" I laughed and said something innocuous, but it was so odd because I have never heard a girl publicly state her weight. First time for everything, I reckon. I guess there are better things to be concerned about. "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: yet I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.But if God doth so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? Be not therefore anxious, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the Gentiles seek; for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things. But seek ye first his kingdom, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Be not therefore anxious for the morrow: for the morrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." Friday, April 05, 2002
That time of the day again, and of the week. Little Boy has soccer practice tonight, then we have a late morning game for Middle Girl tomorrow (across town—just like the last time), after which we will head up to the church building (back across town and then some) for weed pulling and flower planting with the preteen kids from church. Before we go to the game tomorrow, I will stand forlornly in my dandelion-choked yard and decide that I can no longer put off mowing. So, bright and early I’ll assault everyone’s ears with my lawn mower. (It’s better that way, though, they can’t hear the weeds screaming.)
Along about 7:00 p.m., I will make my annual trek through the house resetting all of the clocks one hour ahead. When I was little, we had one clock, an early 60s teak and brass starburst design on the wall of the den. The clock on the stove didn’t work. Unplug, spin hands ahead, plug back in. Now, I live in a house full of clocks on every stinkin’ electrical appliance and in every vehicle and every refrigerator magnet and on every wall of the house. My favorite is our kitchen clock, which is an old English oak-cased keywound fusee clock, circa 1850. Still keeps perfect time and has never once blinked “12:00” when the power goes out. Of course, I do have to wind it every seven days, but I need the exercise. Sunday--church in the morning, soccer skills clinic with Keith the English Soccer Hooligan in the afternoon, then church again in the evening. Yes, I get a lot of churching. I need it. (Of course, I need a Sunday nap and I don’t get a lot of that!) At some point in the next few days, I have to apply to get back the money I have been loaning Uncle Sam. Every year, I vow to do taxes early. Every year, I do penance for breaking my vows. I promise I’ll get them done before the 15th. That one’s never been broken. Thanks to everyone who participated in the Croix de Grits. I intend to write a non-tongue-in-cheek e-mail to Dr. Rice at her Stanford address (I can’t find one at the NSC—I don’t know why not) to let her know of our bit of tomfoolery. Sure would be cool if she answers back, but I won’t hold my breath. Anyway, that’s all for now. See you all Monday, and thanks for stopping by.
Great Moments in Headline Writing--Oprah Cutting Back on Book Sugegstions
Devastating effects already seen on spelling ability of Associated Press writers.
WATERMELON ALERT
Women Protest with Their Wombs HELSINKI (Reuters) - Hundreds of Finnish women are protesting with their wombs, vowing they will not give birth for the next four years unless parliament scraps plans to another nuclear power station. This sounds like a job for our newest Axis of Weevil inductee--Minister of Nukularity J Bowen. Actually, this sounds like a good way to insure that there are fewer future protestors. If they were really smart, they would go in for fertility treatments and have thousands of little Greens marching to the polls in a few years.
Pete Buck=Lou Ferrigno
From Hawk Weevil Emily Jones: Peter Buck of R.E.M. has been cleared of air rage charges. Apparently, the sleeping pill made him do it. While the rest of the world drifts off into a mellow slumber after taking these pills, Buck is transformed into a ill-mannered, renegade sky-ninja who shouldn't be held accountable for his actions. Sort of like Dr. David Banner turning into the Incredible Hulk.
Britain to Scrap Bobbies' Wobbly Helmet
The distinctive helmet worn by the English "bobby on the beat" could be on the way out because it wobbles and falls off in fights. Patrolling policemen will try out three new hats this autumn as possible replacements for the 12-inch-high beat helmet, which has topped most officers' heads for the last 150 years, the government said on Friday. [...] The three hats being tested are a shorter version of the current model, a stronger version of the female officer's bowler hat and a reinforced baseball cap for specialist units. "I wouldn't like to see a baseball cap," [Police Superintendents' Association President Kevin ] Morris said. "It doesn't look smart enough." No, that requires that they be turned backwards.
Karenna Gore-Schiff Roots in the Grass
Greg Hlatky's take on Goregirl#1's possible run for...something: So here's my suggestion for Ms. Gore-Schiff. If she's interested in running for office and loves grassroots politics, how's about starting out with some humble place in the political sphere, one which brings her in constant personal contact with the concerns of ordinary folks. Something akin to a township trustee, who has to endure to some idiot at a meeting ranting about a cellphone tower nearby, worry about whether there'll be enough salt for the roads this winter, or changing the zoning on a piece of property. Or, since her children will certainly be attending one of New York City's fine public schools, sitting on the her childrens' community school board and listening to the concerns of parents. Somehow, I don't quite think that's what she had in mind. Something where a chief-of-staff handles the rabble so she can go off to tony fundraisers with the glitterati was probably closer to the mark. Well, at least she won't be growing a beard.
Huge trade in illegal handguns
From The Daily Telegraph (Australia): [...] Police appear to be fighting a losing battle to control the number of firearms on our streets and admit that in some suburbs guns are easier to buy than a mobile phone. "It seems like they've all got guns," an officer involved in the drug agency said yesterday. "There are whole gangs of young people wandering around the streets and each of them has a gun." "If they're dealing in drugs, and so many of them are, then they arm themself with a gun for protection." [...] A convicted killer who spoke to The Daily Telegraph yesterday said guns had never been more readily available. "It's a huge business. There are plenty of guns for sale if you have the cash and know where to go." "I could go to a certain pub in Sydney and I'd have a handgun within a quarter of an hour. The bikies have always got a supply and all the young kids in gangs have got them." [...] "It's a huge business. Since the gun laws came in handguns are a one of the biggest assets." But at least the non-criminals have been disarmed.
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
CONTACT: AXIS OF WEEVIL CENTRAL COMMAND e-mail terryoglesby@yahoo.com COVETED AWARD GRANTED TO DR. CONDOLEEZA RICE ALABAMA, 5 APRIL 2002--In a closely watched contest among ten finalists, Birmingham native and United States National Security Advisor Dr. Condoleeza Rice has been chosen by popular acclaim to be the first recipient of the Croix de Grits, the much heralded award granted to "recognize people who have gone above and beyond the call of duty in service to Alabama and/or to the South." The Croix de Grits is bestowed by a group of Alabamacentric blog writers collectively known as "The Axis of Weevil." This group, consisting of Mac Thomason, Elizabeth Spiers, Ray Mikell, Will Hester, Lee Ann Morawski, Dr. Weevil, Charles Austin, Emily Jones, J Bowen, and Terry Oglesby (all of whom have some tie to the great State of Alabama and the skill and desire to type a lot) decided that it was high time to recognize those who have demonstrated to the world that The Goldenrod State is capable of producing prodigious greatness. Each member was asked to nominate a particular person whom they believed contributed to the intellectual, political, artistic, literary, moral, spiritual, culinary, etc., life of the state. Voting was then opened up the readership of the Axis of Weevil's member bloggers. Nominations began for this award on Tuesday, March 26, 2002. The original nominees (and their vote totals) for this tremendous award included astrophysicist Dr. Thomas Wdowiak (3), author Florence King (12), Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas (6), the black voters of Mississippi (1), New York Times editor Howell Raines (0), Ave Maria Grotto builder Brother Joseph Zoettl (6), Alabama's Major League Baseball players (1), Pulitzer Prize-winning author Edward O. Wilson (3), Tennessee Senator Fred Thompson (0), and Dr. Rice (21). Early in polling, a substitution was made in which Times editor Raines was brutally dumped in favor of singer and musician Ray Charles, who went on to garner two votes. Controversy arose when East Tennessean and former Navy man Rich Hailey wished to withdraw his original nominee of Senator Fred Thompson and replace him with author Lewis Grizzard. Negotiations to include Grizzard on the ballot were tense, with the Axis' Directorate of Election Stealing insisting that nominees be among the living. Undeterred, Hailey resorted to calling for his readers to mobilize for an electronic invasion of the Axis of Weevil's Communications and Dry Goods Department. Sensing the potential damaging effects that bad publicity could bring, Terry Oglesby, Possumblogger, invoked a much-abused Calvinball Rules provision and relented to the placement of Grizzard in the poll. Stung by the vigor of Grizzard's supporter, Oglesby consoled himself by throwing an immature fit of name-calling. Both Grizzard and Hailey were heartened that Grizzard's dirt nap was no impediment to his gathering up of two entire votes. In yet another face-losing exercise for Oglesby, he later blundered upon information that yet another candidate was non compos vitae, Benedictine Monk Joseph Zoettl. Noting that Zoettl died in 1961, Oglesby poured forth a monotonous harangue about the rule of law and with a style reminscent of Lyndon LaRouche, intimated that another Axis member, Sine Qua Non Pundit Charles Austin was perhaps a member of the Illuminati of Avignon. Puzzled and bemused, Austin promised to quit voting for Zoettl as soon as it was convenient. United Nations observers of the voting process were generally satisfied that it was handled as well as anything else they have every seen, while EU members complained bitterly about the general lack of multilateralism and the fact that it was not metric compliant. In what could possibly the most hotly worded complaint, former Vice President Albert Gore vigorously demanded that polling be reopened and his name placed upon the ballot, saying that the anti-idiotarian bias of the polling and nomination process guaranteed he would be excluded. The Axis of Weevil's Ministry of Agitprop and Sewing released a statement consisting of a picture drawn by one of its member bloggers in which Gore is shown as a small crying baby. An arrow was drawn to the crayon-medium artwork with the legend "Littel Cribaby." Notified of her award in a nationally broadcast phone conversation, Dr. Rice expressed her delighted puzzlement and firm commitment to hang the Croix de Grits Citation upon her refrigerator, and to wear the heavily ostentatious medallion while lounging around the house and maybe in the yard. ###
Ken Layne Loves Me!
Cool! I'm famous now! On his recent visit with Aussie Tim Cobber Mate and his wife Barry: Walking around the lovely neighborhood of ... ah, I can't remember -- Queen's Park? Close to Bondi Beach, and a very ugly mall-type street -- anyway, Tim and Nadia were jabbering about the possums in the trees. Fine. I have possums in my yard here in Los Angeles. But Tim made the filthy marsupials sound absolutely dangerous. That's his job: making stupid pouch-rats sound deadly. You like me! You REALLY LIKE me!
Tartan Day
A reminder from Alistair McIntyre at Electric Scotland that tomorrow, April 6 is Tartan Day in Scotland, Canada, and the United States. O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood, Land of the mountain and the flood, Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band, That knits me to thy rugged strand! Or, in the words of Mike Meyers, "If it's not Scottish, it's crrrrap!"
Report slams Ireland for corruption
A report issued today slams Ireland as one of the most corrupt and unequal countries in Europe, and says its respect for human rights falls far short of international norms. "Ireland is now regarded as one of the more corrupt European states (and) is believed to have lost substantial foreign investment because of its bad international reputation," said the report published by the British-based Joseph Rowntree Charitable Trust. Someone get me Mary Robinson on the phone...
The Flaying of Richard Cohen, Episode XV
Yet another deconstruction of Mr. Cohen's flaming fluorescent bleeping bleeping assbleeping, yet comfortingly predictable, dumpster logic, lovingly produced by Axis of Weevil Minister of Arts and Crafts (Knife Sharpening Division) and Sine Qua Non Pundit, Charles Austin. Cohen's topic: Zac Moussaoui--victim of soicumstances. So much good stuff--here's a snippet: Or, let us just suppose that Moussaoui is the moron he appears to be. It is apparently beyond Richard’s ability to imagine that Moussaoui could be a moron and the 20th hijacker at the same time. He acted so strangely at his flight school that he called attention to himself, and someone, in turn, called the cops. He appears to be the perfect dupe -- the very fellow Osama bin Laden might have had in mind when he said on a videotape that not all the hijackers knew that they were on a death mission. Richard goes for the trifecta – fluorescence, confusion, and ignorance of the law. Even if the other hijackers didn’t know the fate that awaited them, had one of them miraculously survived any of the crashes on 9/11, they would be on trial for their crimes right now as well. Maybe Moussaoui thought that he was merely going to help hijack a plane and take it to Cuba or somewhere. Maybe Moussaoui was actually a disciple of Louis Farrakhan and thought that he was going to fly the plane to the mothership. So what? Would that warrant the death penalty? Given the conduct of the murderers on the planes and the results of 9/11 – YES! Thursday, April 04, 2002
So sorry--I realize I said no posts for today, but there was all this really important stuff:
Extending Alabama’s Cultural Hegemony, One Blog at a Time I received a plaintive missive the other day from Mr. J Bowen, writer of No Watermelons Allowed, wishing to know if his three year tour of duty in lovely Scottsboro, Alabama would be sufficient to gain entry into The Ancient and Majestic Krewe of Alablogma. J notes that he was victimized by the forces of temperance while in-country, which made his tour doubly painful, in that it required him to drive great distances in search of demon rum. His reckoning is that such privation was the equivalent of yet another three years. Mr. Anti-Citrullus Vulgaris writes further in explaining his Weevilly qualities: ”I'm an engineer by training, IT pro by necessity, currently working an extended consulting gig in St. Louis. Base camp is in IL where the family is, but I get around - despite lacking known arrest warrants and paternity suits, so far I've had mailing addresses in 9 states. I'm part Kraut, allegedly part Indian, and I refuse to speculate about the rest. 10 years in the nuclear power biz has made me loathe left-wing environmentalists (in case there's any other kind) - if you're green on the outside but red on the inside, go away.” Mr. Bowen, having full knowledge of the wonders of Scottsboro, such as the Unclaimed Baggage Center, and showing the proper fulfillment of all the other mysterious and squirrelly requirements of entry into the Goldenrod Quilting and Pistol Club, is hereby granted entry into the mighty Axis of Weevil, privy to all the rights and privileges thereof. As always, the famed Axis of Weevil Gift Pack is being loaded on the flatbed and will begin its journey to the Bootheel Region just as soon as the girls pack their clothes. Croix de Grits Technical Glitch, or Nefarious Al Gore Plot? Swabby Dennis McNiece wrote in to detail his difficulties with the Croix de Grits poll—I’m not sure what the problem is but I imagine it’s something to do with Bravenet’s servers (they were hacked last month—someone may be trying it again). I tried to access it this morning and there was no poll, but I have since monkeyed around with it and it appears to be working again. The results so far: 1.) Astrophysicist Dr. Thomas Wdowiak 3 6% 2.) Author Florence King 9 17% 3.) Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas 5 9% 4.) The black voters of Mississippi 1 2% 5.) Singer and musician Ray Charles 2 4% 6.) Ave Maria Grotto builder and way, way dead guy Br. Joseph Zoettl 6 11% 7.) Alabama's Major League Baseball players 1 2% 8.) Pulitzer Prize-winning author Edward O. Wilson 3 6% 9.) Author and really dead guy Lewis Grizzard 2 4% 10.) National Security Advisor Condoleeza Rice 21 40% Be sure and vote, and contact your lawyers as soon as possible in order to contest the results. All for now. Wednesday, April 03, 2002
No Possumblog Thursday, and Odd Assorted Loose Ends
I have much dumb work stuff to get done tomorrow, so there will be none of the rich, tender goodness of Possum, the other, other white meat. And there was much rejoicing. And now for something completely different... Axis of Weevilry: Remember to vote for the Croix de Grits nominee of your choice, as polling will cease on the 5th. I was talking to Dr. Rice on the phone just now and she is encouraged by the results so far, as is Florence King, who tells me she is grateful to have pulled into a dead heat with the feisty Benedictine Zoettl. Possumbooks: If you haven't read it, be sure to get a copy of Rick Bragg's Ava's Man. I just finished this last week and it's a good one. And Rick Bragg's a good one, too. I also finished up Colonel Moore's We Were Soldiers Once...and Young a couple of weeks ago. I should have read it when it first came out, because I kept comparing it to the movie and confusing myself, and the confusing nature of the battle narrative itself made it a chore to keep the action straight. I started what looks like a really good one last night--Ghost Soldiers by Hampton Sides. It promises to be much better than Stephen Ambrose's The Wild Blue, simply because so far it doesn't read like a poorly compiled set of 3x5 note cards with quotes on them. Nice and tightly written. Google Scares Me: I noticed another spike in visits to my old GeoCities archives and found that Google's vaunted search algorithm detected some silly post I did about the imagined fleshly glories of various newswomen, such as the pleasantly wholesome Norah O'Donnell, and another post castigating Taliboy Johnnie Jihad Lindh. The Good Googley Woogley combined these posts to enable some realllllly icky person to reach the Possumblog thinking that I might have some naughty nekkid photos of ol' Johnnie. All together now-- "EWWWWWWWWWW!" And again, what pervgoogler in his or her right mind would think that something called "Possumblog" is the place to find such unimaginably horrendous things? I mean, aside from all of the other horrendously unimaginable things herein. Anyway, see you all bright and early Friday.
Losing It
From Elizabeth Spiers at Capital Influx: I talked to the CEO of a NASDAQ-listed New Jersey-based defense contractor today that went to Birmingham-Southern, which is a couple of hours from my hometown. He still has a Southern accent. He observed that I didn't, and I explained that my accent was effectively neutralized at Duke. If you don't hear a Southern accent for four years, you forget what it sounds like. If I try to affect an accent now, it sounds fake. I end up with the "Scarlett O'Hara" accent, a variety of Southern accent that I wager doesn't really exist, as I've never heard it in real life. The CEO remarked that this was probably a good thing, as people "don't automatically think you're an idiot." I laughed. It's cynical, but it's true. I had the same conversation with the CEO of a private software company last week. He's originally from Kentucky. He said that his former place of employment was cut-throat competitive, and people that didn't know him assumed he was a moron because of the accent. He said he was one of the few people that no one made a concerted effort to crush in their mad scramble to the top because no found him threatening. "Little did they know," he laughed. Indeed. There was an article in the paper the other day about a fellow who works in New York as a voice coach for the movie industry. He teaches people how to lose their accent (not just Southern, but various Noo Yawk and Noo Joisey brogues, too) and also teaches people how to speak WITH an accent for movies or the stage. A right reglar 'enry 'iggins, 'e woz, and even more interesting in that his own speaking voice started out wit lahts a' dems and deezes and dozes. For better or worse, I am a mimic, and pretty quickly take on the pattern of how everyone else around me is talking. This has served me in good stead over the years and allowed me to sit across the conference table from Ivy League architects and to hunker down with the rodbusters in a footing trench with relatively few problems. Even better are the few times when I get to be the interpreter between the two. And there are those magical times when the slow-talking, idiot/moron side of me gets one over on the smart boys. Never play pool against a man who has a cuestick with his name on it. And be wary of kids who grew up talking like Brer Rabbit.
The Scourge of Richard Cohen, Volume XIV
UNFAIR! MEAN-SPIRITED! GOOD SHOW! Nicely detailed response from the Sine Qua Non Pundit--an excerpt: The Battle of Algiers is now being fought in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, in Haifa and Netanya -- anywhere a Palestinian suicide bomber can infiltrate. The battle of Algiers ended in 1962. Are the French still fighting it? Were Palestinians fighting in Algiers 40 years ago? Were there Algerian suicide bombers? This self delusional analogy is crumbling before our eyes. It is being fought, too, with increasingly desperate Israeli tactics -- first pre-emptive assassination, now the virtual reoccupation of the West Bank. Bingo! Here is Richard’s attempt to smear Israel by making the Israeli actions now done in self defense the moral equivalent of the guerrilla and terrorist tactics, extreme repression, assassinations, torture, human rights abuses, and gang rapes committed by France to hold on to Algeria. Charles is obviously hopped up on that gallon of Milo's sweet tea we sent him! More is on the way...
The Birmingham Free Press
Many thanks to Ray Mikell who links to this bastion of Southern culture. It's a big site, and very well done, occasionally truthful, and operates as an equal opportunity character assassin.
Hey Cool! Mo Fan Mail!
From one Dennis McNiece of America's Yankeeland: Mr. Oglesby, Miss Flawrnz Kang wields a large horse pistol on the cover of her book Lump It Or Leave It. That demonstrates her commitment to the 2nd Amendment - or maybe her unwillingness to take any crap. In any case she is a formidable woman and deserves at least a Knight Commander's ribbon with her Croix de Grits. After all, she is Southron. To this old Yankee she represents all that is good and noble in the cause of the South. Her investiture in your order would demonstrate the utter seriousness you-all attach to your fair tradition. One vote for Miss Florence King. Thank you And thank you Dennis for reading the oddly shaped pile of poo known as Possumblog and for a nice recommendation for Ms. King--be sure and pop over to the Polling Place to cast your ballot before Friday. In a related item, Charles Austin wrote in to say that he will discontinue voting for Brother Zoettl in the near future.
12 Step Program For The Do-It-Yourself Martyr
Dr. Weevil offers his assistance to the beleaguered leader of the Palestinian Authority: Dear Chairman Arafat: I keep reading how eager you are to be martyred for the Palestinian cause, and how disappointing it is to be constantly cheated of your hopes to be a "Martyr! martyr! martyr!", to quote your own words. To help you in this difficult situation, I thought perhaps I should pass on some useful advice from a very knowing American of my acquaintance. What follows is a simple twelve-step program for the do-it-yourself martyr, adjusted to fit your particular situation. The percentages in parentheses give my estimate of the cumulative chance of successful martyrdom at each stage: for instance, there is only a 2% chance that step 1 will suffice -- Israeli troops are fiendishly well-disciplined -- but there is a 55% chance that you will not have to go past step 7 to achieve martyrdom. And who says Americans are willing to sit idly by and not help out!? Tuesday, April 02, 2002
Croix de Grits Update
I HAVE BEEN HAD! It seems another decomposition specialist has been gathering up a bushel of votes unbeknownst to the Rules Committee. One Brother Joseph Zoettl, builder of Ave Maria Grotto, has been dead lo for 40 friggin' years! Is Charles Austin, Sine Qua Non Pundit and nominator of Brother Zoettl, running some sort of Benedictine subconspiracy? Hmmmm. On the one hand, I am peaved that such a blunder could have befallen me after making such a big deal out of the No Dead Guy Rule, then having to invoke the Calvinball Rules to let in Really Dead Author Lewis Grizzard. On the other hand, Zoettl is the second highest vote grabber after Dr. Condi. On yet another han...well, on my hind leg, I wonder why nobody fact-checked this! Ding dernit, this ain't no way for to be running an Axis!!! In any even, disproving Alex Beam's assertions that no one reads blogs, a quick viewing of the current statistics reveals that an astounding 40 people have voted so far! The tally so far: 1.) Astrophysicist Dr. Thomas Wdowiak 3 8% 2.) Author Florence King 3 8% 3.) Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas 4 10% 4.) The black voters of Mississippi 0 0% 5.) Singer and musician Ray Charles 1 3% 6.) Ave Maria Grotto builder Br. Joseph Zoettl 6 15% 7.) Alabama's Major League Baseball players 1 3% 8.) Pulitzer Prize-winning author Edward O. Wilson 3 8% 9.) Author and really dead guy Lewis Grizzard 2 5% 10.) National Security Advisor Condoleeza Rice 17 43% If you have not voted, please be sure to do so. Unless you're part of the Illuminati of Avignon.
This Just In From BBC--It's Not Nice to Make the Baby Jesus Cry!
Emily Jones, Axis of Weevil Minister of BBC Monitoring, reports the following: Did anyone else watch the BBC World News last night? I did. And I tell you what, it's the last time I will ever watch that biased load of crap masquerading as news. If you were lucky enough to have missed it, then let me give you a brief summary of their lead story: Look! It's the evil Israeli Army shooting at unarmed, peaceful protesters! Now they're shooting at us! Holy crap! And in the same town where Jesus was born!
Come On, Now—You Too!
Yet another in the pitiful “I Am A Big Goofy Doofus” series: Last night was soccer practice for both Middle Daughter and Only Son. My wife gets home before I do, so she usually has them dressed and ready to go when I get home. I come straight from work to the house, then turn right around and head back to the fields with the kids. Although it would be nice to be comfortable, I don’t have time to change, so I keep on my wing-tips and my tie and my nice white shirt and my Haggar poly-knit slacks (yes, I am fashion-challenged). Their practice fields are on opposite sides of the complex, which means I wander back and forth between the two fields trying to keep an eye on both of them. Last night was no different, and as always, I looked like a big goob in my dress clothes. I guess every other parent has a job that allows them the extra time to get home and change into something comfortable. Which wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t springtime, and if women would wear burqas like God intended instead of tight little shorts. One of the teachers from the kid’s elementary school was there last night with her husband and baby and her son who plays on my son’s team. And of course, this pert little wicked infidel had her shamelessly smooth and tan legs hanging all out the bottom of her shorts for everyone to see. And her perfectly bob-cut, shiny strawberry blonde hair had nary a hejab upon it. So I exchanged general chit-chat with this daughter of perdition and her hubby and played peekaboo with the baby and watched my son run around aimlessly and jump like a bunny for a while, then wandered over to the other set of fields where my daughter was. She was doing fine, but since none of the moms over there looked like Breck Girl models and everyone was chain-smoking, I moseyed back over and watched the boys some more, which provided much more in the way of visual distractions and respiratory safety. It got close to time to go, so I told my son I was going to go get Rebecca and to wait for me. I made my last walk over to her field and sure enough, it was quitting time. She gathered up her stuff and we both went back to pick up Little Boy, pausing long enough for her to watch the older girls finish up one of their games. As we finally got back down to my son’s field, I could see that they were still practicing, and for some reason the dads were lined up on the field. I came walking across with daughter in lockstep and figured out that the coach was going to have a little father-son pickup game. ‘Well, I’m kinda glad I’m not dressed right,’ I thought to myself. I was headed for the sideline to stand next to petite Model Mom when she smiled and said “Come on, now—you too!” I stopped and stared like a pole-axed cow, trying to figure a way out of this one. “Come on, it’s ALL the dads!” She had her baby slung on her upturned hip and she was just grinning with her little freckled nose all wrinkled up and her silky red hair falling just so and those danged legs were going all the way to the ground and she was just daring me to show her what a big goofball I really was. I think we all know the answer. I reached up, loosened my tie, undid my collar button, pointed a chubby finger at my son and said, “You’re going DOWN little boy!” He just giggled and giggled. And so, it was on—a field full of little 7 year olds, their thirty-something, tanned and toned and casually comfortable dads, and then one weird looking old fat guy in a tie, slacks and street shoes too dumb to “just say no.” At least we won. And I didn’t slide down. Falling would have been embarrassing enough, but it’s worse when done by the corpulent, so I guess I actually managed to do pretty well, considering my prodigious handicaps. My son managed to catch a ball in the knee, which caused him some distress. I asked him if he wanted to stand to the side, but he was game and played on with an incredibly ferocious intensity. Heaven help him when he discovers redheads.
Banning guns does not ban violence. Law-abiding citizens obey the rules, not terrorists.
John Lott in the National Review Online: Of the three pilots' unions, 83 percent of the Allied Pilots Association, 78 percent of the Southwest Airlines Pilots' Association and 73 percent of the Air Line Pilots Association support arming pilots. More than 70 percent of the pilots of major airlines have served in the military and are familiar with guns. They know more about their planes than the marshals. All the pilots' groups have agreed to training programs before being armed. Additional organizations like the 5,000 member Airline Pilots' Security Alliance having sprung up pointing to El Al and two major European airlines that arm their pilots as a model for us to follow. I would much rather have an armed pilot than for the government to expect me as a passenger to subdue a hijacker with a spork and a seat cushion.
Clinton White House axed terror-fund probe
From the Washington Times: The Clinton administration shut down a 1995 investigation of Islamic charities, concerned that a public probe would expose Saudi Arabia's suspected ties to a global money-laundering operation that raised millions for anti-Israel terrorists, federal officials told The Washington Times. [...] Law enforcement authorities and others close to the aborted investigation said the State Department pressed federal officials to pull agents off the previously undisclosed probe after the charities were targeted in the diversion of cash to groups that fund terrorism. Former federal prosecutor John J. Loftus said four interrelated Islamic foundations, institutes and charities in Virginia with more than a billion dollars in assets donated by or through the Saudi Arabian government were allowed to continue under "a veil of secrecy." "If federal agents had been allowed to conduct the investigation they wanted in 1995, they would have made the connection between the Saudi government and those charities," said Mr. Loftus, now a St. Petersburg, Fla., lawyer who filed a lawsuit last week accusing a Florida charity of fraud. Thanks, Bill.
The Donald Lays It Out
Thanks to Sergeant Stryker (still not over Macho Grande, by the way) for the link, and thanks to Ol' Rummy for the cogent thoughts: Murderers are not martyrs. Targeting civilians is immoral, whatever the excuse. Terrorists have declared war on civilization, and states like Iran, Iraq and Syria are inspiring and financing a culture of political murder and suicide bombing. The president has declared war on terrorism. It's a war unlike any other America has ever fought -- not only in the nature of the battle and the weapons and tactics employed, which will undoubtedly change from place to place, but in this conflict, the battlefield is but one threat of many. Semper paratus.
Lost His Marbles is Home Again
Check out Ray Mikell's pics of Nawlins and welcome him back. (Also note that he proudly links up the Axis of Weevil--thanks, Ray!)
Lileks on Blogs
Here’s the secret: people on the web are not paid to be important. They usually aren’t paid at all, of course, but the point of putting up a blog isn’t to be Influential, or to Redefine the Dialogue, or any other of the hoary old clichés. People put up blogs because they have something to say. If they post six times a day and three posts blow chunks, so what? Better that than a columnist whose every piece is stooped with the awful weight of its author’s ego. [...] Blogs need papers. But newspapers don't seem to realize how they feed this new medium - instead of taking advantage of it, they treat it like a school of minnows nibbling on their toes. And Gulliver was no doubt amused by the Lilliputians until he woke up and found himself tied by a thousand small ropes. Possumblog--Proudly blowing chunks with every post!
Islamic Nations Fail to Define Terror
Gee, now that's a shock. OIC countries signed a statement on Monday praising the Palestinians and their 18-month-old "blessed intifada" uprising. But they appeared divided on whether acts such as the suicide bombing of civilians should be deemed terrorism. Malaysian Prime Minister Mahathir Mohamad, long a supporter of the Palestinian cause, suggested any deliberate attack on civilians, including those by Palestinian suicide bombers, should be classified as acts of terror. Others disagreed with the habitually straight-talking Mahathir's interpretation, even questioning the point of trying to achieve consensus on the issue. Why of course not! After all, reaching a consensus that murder is wrong might set a poor precedent for pressing on with the glorious jihad. Without the tool of slaughtering innocent civilians, why, the intifadists might have to rely on intelligent discourse and respect for the rule of law. And we all know how hard THAT would be. For our definition-challenged friends, here is an interesting list of acts over the last 40 years which the U.S. Department of State has classified as terrorist acts: Significant Terrorist Incidents, 1961-2001 If you are unable to see some sort of common thread running through these acts, defining terrorism would be meaningless to you.
One of the benefits of globalization
Hyundai Motor Co. said Monday it will build a $1 billion auto plant in Montgomery, creating at least 2,000 high-paying jobs and adding momentum to Alabama's already fast-growing auto industry. [...] "It's conceivable over the next five years we could be producing close to 1 million vehicles per year in this state," said Ted vonCannon, president of the Birmingham Metropolitan Development Board and co-chair of the Alabama Automotive Corridor Alliance, a group that promotes 11 north-central counties to the industry. "More and more suppliers will have this state on their radar screens." Sweet. Monday, April 01, 2002
Just a note--I added Christopher Johnson's Midwest Conservative Journal up in the header and have been trying all afternoon to correct the spelling of Mr. Johnson's front name from the quaint ";Christorpher" to the more common variant, but have been stymied at every turn by the Blogger server overload. I am heartened to know that should I ever choose Blogger Pro, I will get priority server access, which I suppose means a greater value in lack of service. Oh well.
Since he wants to be a martyr...
...does that mean Yassir will be strapping on the ol' plastique Under-roos and marching out to meet the Jewish infidels? Nah, I didn't think so.
States are using their tobacco settlement money to balance their budgets
OLYMPIA, Wash. (AP) -- Less than four years ago, Washington state's attorney general helped win billions of dollars from the tobacco industry for 46 states -- money she saw as a bonanza for smoking-prevention programs and other health measures. Now she is watching in dismay as states around the country -- including her own -- borrow heavily against their shares of the settlement to plug holes in their budgets. States are not just spending the yearly checks on something else; they are spending decades of settlement payments all at once. "This was the single biggest opportunity in the history of public health to address the most preventable cause of death in America," Attorney General Christine Gregoire said. "I sure hope I don't look back and say it was the biggest lost opportunity." Such a tragedy--there is, after all, supposed to be honor among thieves.
Mayor was right to drop gun case
The lede from the Boston Herald: Better late than never. Boston Mayor Tom Menino was right to drop the city's lawsuit trying to extract big bucks from 31 firearms manufacturers. It should never have been brought. This case was frankly a publicity stunt - an expensive publicity stunt supposedly in the cause of ``public health.'' But the roughly $500,000 it cost so far was diverted from other goals. There is no telling how many more infants might have been recruited for immunization, how many more mothers might have received help toward avoiding a low birth weight baby, or dozens of other things that might have been done. And it's not an April Fool's joke.
Last of the Red Hot Mamas
In a surprising bit of news, we add a brand new member to the Axis of Weevil, noted Hawk Girl and writer of Give War A Chance, Emily Jones. This was a complete surprise to me, and came about when Miss Jones wrote the Possumblog Mail Room to comment on "Southern gentleman" Pete Buck and his impression of an anus on a recent aeroplace flight. As an aside, I asked Miss Jones if she had voted yet for the recipient of the Croix de Grits, and she related that she voted for Condi Rice. As Emily stated it: "She's one bad ass 'Bama babe, who hopefully will have a long career in politics. Plus, I was born in Alabama, so I feel a sense of sisterhood with her..." Alarm bells went off in my walnut-sized possum brain and I feverishly wrote Emily back to ask if she knew she might be One of Us. She wrote back to say "I'm not sure I'm eligible. I only lived there for a few years as a small child (though long enough for my first words to be in southern accent, enough so that my Texas-bred aunts always referred to me as "the last of the red hot mamas"), and haven't been back since." I urged her to carefully re-read the qualifications and assured her that inclusion in our august group would be of benefit to all. She did as I asked, but still believed herself to not be worthy--"Well, I pretty much qualify, except that I don't own a pick-up truck. But I did learn to drive on one. Does that count?" Oh, dear child, that's more than sufficient! And such a go-getter she is! When informed that she indeed does have a place within the Axis of Weevil if she wished it, she answered with a heartfelt "Sure. Do I have any duties or responsibilities?" Such a willingness to achieve! Such drive! So it is with great pride that I hereby invest Miss Jones into the Axis of Weevil, and as promised, forward to her the cherished Axis of Weevil Gift Pack containing Dreamland ribs; Jim Dandy grits; a gallon jug of Milo's sweet tea; a gun rack from Mark's Outdoor Sports for her pickup (or other suitable veehickle); a package of Bubba's Beef Jerky (according to Dr. Weevil, this is homemade and is available only at the gas station at the end of Highway 82 in Bibb County); and a coupon for free underpinning for her trailer. As Miss Emily lives now outside the South, she is entitled to also have included for her enjoyment a four-pack of handsome, muscular men from any college gymnastics team in the state (although since Miss Emily lives in California, this is a bit like coals to Newcastle.) So then, welcome Emily as the Axis of Weevil continues its unstoppable assimilation of Alabama-soiled bloggers. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE!
Condi Delivers a Butt-Kicking!
The numbers are looking unbeatable for Condoleeza Rice at this stage in the voting for the Croix de Grits. With 31 votes total, Condi has taken 42% of the total with 13 votes. The next closest is Brother Joseph Zoettl, builder of the Ave Maria Grotto and holder of 5 votes. I believe the trend we are seeing here may make it difficult for anyone to catch Ms. Rice without resorting to underhanded tactics. Not that such a thing would happen. The complete results so far: 1.) Astrophysicist Dr. Thomas Wdowiak 2 6% 2.) Author Florence King 3 10% 3.) Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas 2 6% 4.) The black voters of Mississippi 0 0% 5.) Singer and musician Ray Charles 0 0% 6.) Ave Maria Grotto builder Br. Joseph Zoettl 5 16% 7.) Alabama's Major League Baseball players 1 3% 8.) Pulitzer Prize-winning author Edward O. Wilson 3 10% 9.) Author and really dead guy Lewis Grizzard 2 6% 10.) National Security Advisor Condoleeza Rice 13 42% Polling will remain open for the remainder of the week. At the end of the week, I will send an official congratulatory message to the winner. Stay tuned, and vote if you haven't already!
Gang aft aglae
The Possumblogger returns, having survived yet another fun-packed weekend. As you recall from Thursday, the Possumclan sallied forth to the wilds of Middle Tennessee to attend a big convention-type, church-related, youth-oriented extravaganza up in the Music City. Our congregation took about 70 folks, and our kids did very well—my oldest was a finalist in girls song leading and got a nice trophy. She and all my other kids also got “platinum” medals for their Good Samaritan group, which was nice. We wound up attending three different award ceremonies—one right after we got there Friday, another one that night, then another Saturday night. The five-year-old showed her true showbiz colors Friday, happily waving to everyone as she went across the stage to get her award. What a ham! At the one Saturday night, all the little kids in kindergarten through Second Grade got to line up and go across the stage, more or less just to show off—no awards or anything. Having gotten an award previously, the Tiny Terror was in rare form again, waving her arm off at the crowd. She stood in the middle of the stage for a while, waving and apparently wondering when she was going to get another award. Reba finally got her to start going again, but the Littlest Possum was royally p.o.ed when she got to the end and didn’t have anything to show for it. Not only does she do comedy well, she also has a flair for the dramatic, so with great disdain she pooched her bottom lip out so far I thought she would trip on it, and disgustedly slammed her arms akimbo across her chest and stomped back to her chair. Boy got to go across the stage, too, but was much more concerned about his perception that he was the only second-grader up there and all the rest were “little kids.” Luckily, he thought better of throwing a fit. The convention was held at the Opryland Hotel, which was very nice if all you needed to do was sit and people watch. Our rooms were supposed to be ready by 3:00 p.m. Friday, but we didn’t actually get in until after 6. The Gaylord Entertainment “hospitality” behemoth apparently has a very advanced computer system operated by monkeys who are able to move cursors with brain power. But you know how them derned monkeys are, always running off to fornicate or throw poop. I have a new slogan for the hotel though—“Inconvenience With A Smile.” When we finally got our rooms, the key to my in-laws’ room would not work. The keys are a computer swipe card. Those wacky monkeys! My father-in-law used the house phone and was told someone would be right up. Twenty minutes later, he called again and was told he needed to come to the lobby. Each section of this huge place has its own lobby with a counter and computers. And no clerks. The only place that is staffed is the main lobby, which was alllll the way across the hotel from where our rooms were. Get down there and meet all sorts of other folks who have been locked out by the naughty monkeys, including one lady who had been staying at the hotel since Wednesday, and suddenly was locked out. The smiling and helpful desk attendant said that she had checked out. No, she was staying until Sunday. “But the computer says….” Finally, she was able to convince him to reactivate the cards, which was done in about two seconds. My father-in-law told him his key woes, and with a friendly smile the clerk said everything was fixed now. Why this could not have been done over the phone is a mystery, but I suspect the telephone system is handled by a different species of monkey, or maybe even non-primates. Now that we all had rooms and could get into them, Pops and I went back to the self-parking lot to get the van. Luckily, it wasn’t raining very hard. It’s a shame we didn’t think to have umbrellas. As with everything else, it seemed like the lot was a mile away. Finally got there and stuffed all of his and Grandmama’s stuff from their car into our van (to keep from making two trips) and headed back. The hotel has some very nice covered porticos with driveways that go right through them. Of course, these driveways are blocked off by bollards, so that no one can actually pull under the cover and stay out of the rain. I tried, but was promptly informed by a smiling bellhop that I shouldn’t be under there. I pulled back out into the drizzling rain and he and one of his buddies came over and started unloading luggage. “Hey, you know it sure would be nice if they let you guys unload under the cover over there. Why don’t they let folks pull under there?” “Uh, well, I dun’t know. It is a law I believe, which says you cannot. It is okay though—we get you inside.” Smile. Well, I know we’ll get inside, but it sure would be nice not to start out all damp and sprouting mushrooms. Managed to get everything out and inside and I went back and parked in the next county. Remembered to get the umbrella this time and walked back. Which would have been nice had there been things like sidewalks which ran in a contiguous fashion from Point A to Point B. Especially since I was going from Point A to Point UU. The inside of the hotel is nice and has all sorts of interesting stuff. We only had to make it to one competition on Saturday, so a lot of the time was spent wandering around. As I said, the people-watching event is always my favorite. I could (and did) sit and watch folks for hours. A couple of observations—Big Hair appears to have receded to a statistically insignificant level, but has been replaced by Breast Implants. I haven’t seen so many high, hard ones since Nolan Ryan was pitching. All the ladies seem to be about Nolan’s age, too, which is just a bit disconcerting. And it seems the Tanning Bed Tan is the new black. I am grateful that most of the congregations were a bit more sedate than the normal resort goers. It’s hard to know how 8,200 different folks are going to act, but I was right proud of everyone. The kids from all of the churches were great this year—we have gone to some of these conventions in the past and it was like Spring Break in Daytona. The two evening award ceremonies are always supposed to be “dress-up in Sunday clothes” events, and again, in years past some of the kids have taken this to mean “dress like Christina Aguilera going to a rave” (or for boys, dress like your favorite gang member.) This year it was just a bunch of nice, well-mannered folks, which made up for the computerized flying monkeys. As promised, we brung our own groceries and managed not to go into hock just to eat. Since we got there around lunch Friday, and since we still had no rooms (hence, no where to put our food) we did have to succumb to the wonders of captive market, food court price-gougery, in which I spent $50 on four hamburgers, two hot dogs, six orders of fries and six drinks. Which had no ice. But the refills were free, so I made the kids drink absolutely as much as they could hold, trying my darnedest to consume my money’s worth of something. I sure was grateful when I could open up my little can of chicken and squirt some mayo on my brought-from-home bread. I thought we might have been playing the rednecks-on-vacation theme a bit hard until we were checking out and a fellow was bringing down a microwave and a mini-refrigerator on a hand-truck. I’m sure this was for one of the church’s hospitality rooms, but it still made me think for a minute “Hey, this feller’s thinking right!” (As if we don’t travel heavy enough as it is, and here I am thinking about bringing a kitchen setup next year!) The trip up and back was pretty good. The little TV worked great as a child tranquilizer and remover-of-thoughts-of-having-to-pee-at-every-Stuckey’s. We were able to make Nashville with only one stop. Back was equally uneventful, except for the driving rain which lasted until about 60 miles north of Birmingham. Saw a couple of wrecks, including one that had just occurred as we passed by in which an older Bronco had rolled into the median. Thankfully, we made it home safe and sound, and the kids were happy to see the Easter Bunny had come to our house while we were gone. “Look, the Easter Bunny got these baskets from Wal-Mart! See?!” Low-class Easter Bunny went and left the silly price tags on. “Huh…well whaddya know. I guess he shops there, too!” “YEAH! Just like us, right Dad?” “Uh-huh.” Oh so be that young again, when the Easter Bunny shopping at Wal-Mart makes perfect sense. Anyway, I’m glad to have had a short little vacation, and I’m glad to be home. Friday, March 29, 2002
DAD BLAST IT!
Not wanting to have to answer the angry e-mails from all of Rich Hailey's readers, I have replaced his original nominee of Fred Thompson with noted author and worm feeder Lewis Grizzard. Grizzard, formerly listed as not eligible for the Croix de Grits due to his status as a DEAD guy, has nonetheless been added by an invocation of the Calvinball rules, which allows the poll assembler to add only one DEAD guy in order to keep the nominator from acting like an all-fired big ass baby. NOW, I must get ready to go--we leave at 0700 and I simply must get a shower. See y'all Monday. Thursday, March 28, 2002
The Invasion of Tennessee
You may not realize it, but today is actually Friday. At least it is for me. I will be off tomorrow and will be traveling to Nashville with my family and my in-laws to attend a convention of sorts. I will be completely devoid of means of access to the old Possumblog or to e-mail the entire weekend, so if any of you have a life and death matter to discuss, you’ll have to wait until Monday. The convention is going to be at the Opryland Hotel, where we will be ensconced with 8,100 of our closest friends. In our package of information we got at church, the coordinator guy gave us a copy of the food court menu—a barbecue sandwich costs 7 bucks. That better be some darned good barbecue, or it better be half a pig. To combat such price gouging (and in keeping with our usual white-trash-vacation custom) we will be bringing along our own poke full of groceries. Of course, since we will be staying in such an uptown place, we will probably use the good paper bags with handles, and there will be name-brand commodities in there, too. And no potted meat or Vienna sausages. We will have real Cheez-Its (not the Crackin’ Good Winn-Dixie store-brand variety) and real Ruffles, and probably will have real Cokes. I believe we are lined up to have sandwiches, so my mother-in-law may bring along some of the ham and turkey she fixed the other night. The trip up might be nice—back at Christmas, Santa Claus got us one of those tiny TVs with a VCR built in and a DC power jack. We intend to anesthetize the children with Videothorazine, hopefully to combat the well-known effects of traveling with tiny terrorists. “She’s staring at me!” “She touched my finger!” “He’s tooting and it STINKS!” They know not to press too much—I may be the only person in the world to actually make good on the “turn this thing around and head home” threat. (Actually, I only had to pull off to the side of the road and pretend I was going to turn, but it was enough.) Each one got to pick out one movie to take along, although I set my foot firmly down and forbad any Mary Kate and Ashley Olson movies. Maybe it would work better if I was the one tranquilized. I always thought it was funny when my dad would pack to go on vacation. Everything he had would fit in a brown paper grocery bag. It took him about 15 minutes. We are only going to be gone for two days, yet it looks like we’re practicing to be the road company for Les Miserables. Two different rollie bags; one huge hanging bag; the striped tote for toiletries, makeup, and hair dryer; a giant duffel bag; three purses (yes, even little Miss Five Year Old simply MUST have one); the other striped tote bag for the 15 pounds of crayons and coloring books; the aforementioned TV with its little carrying case and four videos; then the larder. Of this bounty, my share will be a dress shirt and pair of pants, two pairs of underwear, two undershirts, two pairs of socks, a pair of dress shoes, a razor, a comb, and a can of Sure. So, anyway, that’s it for now. I’ll see you all bright and early on April Fool’s Day.
New Nominee for the Croix de Grits--There's Gonna Be A Bumpin'
From loyal Possumblog consumer Janis Gore of Vidalia, Sportsman's Paradise, we received the following: Dear Mr. Oglesby: How about Mr. Ray Charles for the Croix? My memory doesn’t extend to any dreadful thing he has ever said that would discredit the South and few people have done more to popularize the various types of music common to the south – blues, jazz, country, rock & roll. I remember a television interview some years ago in which the interviewer asked him about money. Mr. Charles said he didn’t put too much value on money. “I can’t ride in but one car at a time, can’t sleep with but one woman at a time, can’t eat but one meal at a time. It doesn’t take so much money for that.” Or something very close. Excellent choice, and he is still alive. As promised, when worthy nominees are put forth, the underperforming nominees will be yanked from the poll list (only 10 spots are available). Using the mighty power invested in me due to my status as North America's only marsupial blogger, I hereby say a tart-tongued "Goodbye!" to New York Times editor Howell Raines. Mr. Raines has garnered no votes in the past few days, and every time I think of the New York Times, I think of the Pace Picante Sauce commercial where the cowboys derisively say "NEW YORK CITY?!" So, in his stead, Albany, Georgia's own Ray Charles.
Militant Palestinian group rejects Arab peace overture to Israel, vows to continue attacks
WOW! Imagine that! I'm stunned! In Gaza City, Hamas spokesman Abdel Aziz Rantisi said the Arab summit did not change anything for his group, which is dedicated to Israel's destruction. "As long as there is occupation, there will be a resistance. So we say it clearly: Occupation should be stopped and then there will be something else," Rantisi said. "I believe that the resistance and the intefadeh will continue in all forms," Hamdan said. Asked if "all forms" includes suicide bombings, he replied: "The type of operation is left for Hamas' military wing to decide." Scene: Hamas war room-- PALESTINIAN JIHADI: "Gosh guys, maybe we need to quit killing civilians through the use of suicide bombers--it's making us look awfully bad." PALESTINIAN JIHADI'S BOSS: "You're right, as usual, Abdul. After you blow yourself up, we'll quit" PALESTINIAN JIHADI: "Oh good, an end to the cycle of violence!"
Boston drops lawsuit on guns
From the Boston Globe: [...]Over the last three years, city lawyers spent close to half a million taxpayer dollars, took statements from dozens of gun industry executives, and gained access to hundreds of thousands of internal company documents. But it became apparent in recent months that the case remained on shaky legal ground, said city officials. They worried that the judge would reject their theory that guns amounted to a public nuisance, similar to pollution, on which the city could set regulations and levy fines. With legal costs spiraling, topping $30,000 per month, and the city's budget shrinking, officials decided they could no longer fight on. ''We came to a point where, with the financial situation in the city and state being what it is, we had to determine how to best use our funding,'' said John Auerbach, executive director of the Boston Public Health Commission, which handled the case. [...] The city's lawsuit contended that gun makers negligently ignored signs that some area gun stores repeatedly made illegal sales, placing firearms in the hands of violent criminals. Other allegations included the failure to manufacture safer weapons; failure to adequately warn consumers about the risks of gun use; unjust profits at the expense of the public; and illegal marketing of guns to minors. The suit sought $100 million to recoup weapons-related costs to the city's police and fire departments, emergency services, schools, and hospitals. If you're right, the cost should be secondary. Of course, that assumes that you're right. If you really have damages of $100,000,000, seems like the $500,000 spent so far would be a bargain. Of course, that assumes that you really have damages. Remember what Walter Mathau said in the Bad News Bears about ASS/U/ME.
Lewis Grizzard
Rich Hailey of Shots Across the Bow nominates a well-known, but highly dead, author for the Croix de Grits: [From Grizzard's biography]Grizzard likened the pressure to top oneself day after day in print to "being married to a nymphomaniac... it's a whole lot of fun for the first week." Every blogger that's been around more than two weeks knows exactly what Lewis meant. That was Lewis' gift; he knew us, and could talk to us and about us. My first exposure to Lewis was the book When my Love Returns from the Ladies room, Will I be too Old to Care? I was a young man, just starting out dating a lovely young lady, and this issue was at the forefront of our relationship. What does a man do when his date has left the table to go to the ladies room? You're sitting there, feeling awkward with nothing to do and no-one to talk to. You would welcome the return of the waitress who couldn't stay away from your table long enough to allow you to finish a single bite of your meal without interrupting you to ask if everything was OK, but she is bound by Female Law 137.2 to stay away from your table while you wait for the eventual return of your date. When I saw Lewis's book, I knew that I had found my master, the man who could explain everything about women and the world. Of course, as I read, I found out that Lewis was just as befuddled as I was, but it didn't seem to matter. Instead of a master, I had found something even better; a friend walking the same road I was. The Croix de Grits is intended to be something to mark the accomplishments of contemporary living folks, mainly because I figured if we started adding in all the dearly departed, we would have way yonder more folks than we could handle. Also, notification and correspondence with the eventual winner will not require the use of a spirit medium, but the use of the only slightly more reliable digital medium. But we all recognize that Faulker is right and that here in the South, not only is the past not dead, it's not even past. So, in order to placate the spirit world, after the living world chooses the first recipient of the Croix de Grits, we will establish yet another award for worthy, yet thoroughly dead, contributors to the goodness of the South. We have not yet picked out a suitable title for this award yet, but I imagine it will by necessity have to include the word "haint."
Birmingham Coca-Cola Bottling Co.
One of the bad things about having a Coke bottler in town was that it skewed the odds of Co-coler Poker--there was always an abundance of "Birmingham," a good many "Montgomery", but hardly ever any "Chattanooga" or "Atlanta." There was always one kid who won every time. I really think he kept an empty bottle hidden on him somewhere, like having a card up your sleeve. Anyway, Birmingham Co-Coler is 100 years old this year. It all started thusly: "1902 Birmingham businessman Crawford T. Johnson uses $12,000 and a borrowed mule to open Birmingham's first Coca-Cola plant. It is located in a 25-by-50-foot building on 24th Street North and produced 30 cases of Coca-Cola per hour. It served 50 retailers." Birmingham-based Coca-Cola Bottling United is now the third-largest Coke bottler in the U.S.
You think Al Qaeda is tough, try dealing with reporters from the NY Times and the Guardian
From the Birmingham News: Capt. A.C. Roper, commander of an Army Reserve public affairs unit based in Birmingham, has become the primary media spokesman for U.S. and allied troops in southern Afghanistan. Based at the bombed-out airport terminal in Kandahar that has become a major U.S. military compound, Roper, 38, has been on CNN, MSNBC, Fox News and foreign television networks. He fields press inquiries from newspapers and wire services worldwide. He's been trained by the Department of Defense but, when he's not on active duty, Roper is the primary spokesman for Hoover police. "Working with local media in Birmingham was a good training ground," Roper said. "Media, whether in Birmingham, Pakistan or London, they're all looking for the same thing credible information that's accurate and a public affairs person that's responsive." Good article.
How did I miss this yesterday? 'GM to Bring Back G.T.O'--THANKS TIM BLAIR!
"It will deliver the kind of performance that made the original GTO legendary," GM Vice Chairman Bob Lutz told reporters at the New York auto show. The GTO will be based on the Holden Monaro, a 5.7 liter V8 with a six-speed manual transmission made by GM's Australian division Holden, but with a new front end to make it look like a Pontiac. Providing the vehicle passes U.S. safety standards, GM will import up to 20,000 a year, company officials said. "You gotta wind it up, tach it up, blow it out--GTOOOOOOOOOOO!" I'm sure Aussie Tim Cobber Mate will verify that the Monaro kicks butt. Bet on a new "Little G.T.O" song to be released, too. Of course, Three deuces and a four speed, on a three-eight-nine; Boy she's really so fine rings a little better than Eight injectors and a six-speed, on a three-five-oh; Boy she's really..." "not slow"?..."no 'ho"? Drive On. Wednesday, March 27, 2002
British Broadcasting Corporation Sold For US$51, Nekkid Chef Sacked
Due to the tireless efforts of Miss Emily Jones, a suitable buyer for the struggling media giant was found in one Dave Worley. And there was much rejoicing.
R.E.M.'s Stipe tells trial Buck is a 'southern gentleman'
[...] "He's just not a person who is rude to anyone," Stipe told Isleworth Crown Court in west London. "Something that people don't often know about the American South, there is what is called a southern gentleman, and Peter is my definition of such. He is someone who is considerate of all people, gentle and polite. That is why this whole thing to me is absurd." [...] Prosecutors say Buck acted like a "drunken lout" after consuming 15 glasses of wine on the flight. They say he overturned a breakfast trolley, mistook a hostess trolley for a CD player, claimed a stranger sitting on the plane was his wife and tussled with crew members, covering them with yogurt. Crew members have testified they pulled Buck away from an exit door after he announced he was "going home" mid-flight. Michael, I've seen Southern gentlemen, and I've seen drunks. Pete Buck is no Otis Campbell!
Coffee is hot, judge rules
High Court Justice Richard Field said McDonald's has no obligation to warn customers about the risk of scalding. Timothy Horlock, a lawyer for the plaintiffs, had argued that that McDonald's served drinks that were too hot, used inadequate cups and did not warn customers of the risks. At least 16 of the plaintiffs were younger five years old when they were injured, he said. Judge Field said that McDonald's customers would not accept coffee and other drinks if they were served at temperatures low enough to prevent scalding. He said the safety of hot drinks sold by McDonald's meets the general expectations of the public. "I am quite satisfied that McDonald's was entitled to assume that the consumer would know that the drink was hot and there are numerous commonplace ways of speeding up cooling, such as stirring and blowing," the judge said. But stirring leads to repetitive-stress syndrome; and what of those who are differently blowing-enabled? What about THOSE people, Judge Field!?
Indian Scientists Use Radiation to Cure Flatulence
or: "Droppin' the Bomb" or: "Pull My Finger, But Not While It's On The Red Button" or: "Pakistani Scientists Claim Flatulence Only a Smoke Screen for Nuke Research"
Spotting the Losers: Seven Signs of Non-Competitive States
Via Steven Den Beste at USS Clueless, a thought-provoking paper by Ralph Peters presented on the US Army's Carlisle Barracks/US Army War College website. Just a part (be sure to read it all): Traditional indicators of noncompetitive performance still apply: corruption (the most seductive activity humans can consummate while clothed); the absence of sound, equitably enforced laws; civil strife; or government attempts to overmanage a national economy. As change has internationalized and accelerated, however, new predictive tools have emerged. They are as simple as they are fundamental, and they are rooted in culture. The greater the degree to which a state--or an entire civilization--succumbs to these "seven deadly sins" of collective behavior, the more likely that entity is to fail to progress or even to maintain its position in the struggle for a share of the world's wealth and power. Whether analyzing military capabilities, cultural viability, or economic potential, these seven factors offer a quick study of the likely performance of a state, region, or population group in the coming century. The Seven Factors These key "failure factors" are: Restrictions on the free flow of information. The subjugation of women. Inability to accept responsibility for individual or collective failure. The extended family or clan as the basic unit of social organization. Domination by a restrictive religion. A low valuation of education. Low prestige assigned to work. Not that this sounds like anyone I know of.
Guns under pillows in crime-wave Britain
"Guns feature alongside baseball bats and hammers among the arsenal kept by almost one in 10 worried householders," security firm Micromark said on Tuesday, citing a telephone survey of 1,000 people. The company said eight percent of those sleeping next to a weapon had a gun, equating to about 100,000 homes. But a Home Office spokeswoman said barring special licenses for certain handguns and shotguns, there were only 125,000 licensed firearms altogether in England and Wales. No word on the number of licensed baseball bats or hammers.
Arab Summit in Disarray as Palestinians Walk Out
[...]Farouq al-Kaddoumi, head of the Palestine Liberation Organization's political department, told Qatar's al-Jazeera television the Palestinian delegation had quit because Lebanese President Emile Lahoud had blocked the broadcast of Arafat's speech from his West Bank office. "This is an Arab summit, not a Lebanon summit," Kaddoumi added. "The summit is for all the Arabs and for the (Palestinian) Intifada and he (Lahoud) has no right not to listen to the Palestinian speech." And it was a good one, too--in it, Mr. Arafat denounced suicide bombings as Satanic in origin and not in keeping with the peaceful tenants of Islam. He went on to state that attempts to eradicate Israel from the political map had been wrongminded, and that not only was it possible to live in peace, he would make non-violent social change his primary tool for gaining rights for the Palestinian people. He quoted freely from Martin Luther King, Jr.'s Letter From a Birmingham Jail--"Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. Never again can we afford to live with the narrow, provincial "outside agitator" idea. " "Just as Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half-truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal, we must see the need of having nonviolent gadflies to create the kind of tension in society that will help men to rise from the dark depths of prejudice and racism to the majestic heights of understanding and brotherhood." "Will we be extremists for hate or will we be extremists for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice--or will we be extremists for the cause of justice?" Arafat urged the Palestinian delegates to return to the conference. In addition, he called on all Arab nations to suspend any payments of money which might encourage more suicidal zealots to take action, and called on them to look to the example set by Egypt and Jordan and accept peace with Israel as not only plausible, but desirable. Sorry, early April Fool's Day prank. In a related story, Explosion in hotel during Passover, 15 reported killed and 100 wounded "There was no immediate Palestinian comment." Well, imagine that. Must be trying to figure out who to congratulate. Or come up with a story in which the attack was staged by Israelis to discredit the Palestinians.
Possumblog Poll Place Now Open!
As promised, we have set up a webpage where interested readers of the Cotton State Blog Writers' Colloquium and Heavy Recoil Society may vote upon our nominees for the highest award in Alablogdom, the legendary Croix de Grits. To date, ten deserving nominees have been put forward, which is fortunate, as the poll software only allows ten answers. When other nomination are submitted by the membership of the Axis of Weevil, the lowest ranked nominees will be unceremoniously yanked and replaced with new nominees. At this time, the nominees are: Astrophysicist Dr. Thomas Wdowiak Author Florence King Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas The black voters of Mississippi New York Times editor Howell Raines Ave Maria Grotto builder Br. Joseph Zoettl Alabama's Major League Baseball players Pulitzer Prize-winning author Edward O. Wilson Tennessee Senator Fred Thompson National Security Advisor Condoleeza Rice So, go vote!
Connie Nom for Croix de Grits
Lee Ann Morawski sends in another nomination for the cherished award for valorious Alabamosity: My next nominee will be Condoleeza Rice, of Birmingham, Alabama. Her political contributions are quite clear, considering her starring role in leading the War on Terror. However her intellectual achievements should not be ignored. She served as provost of Stanford, is the Thomas and Barbara Stephenson Senior Fellow at the Hoover Institution, and is a tenured professor of political science. Talk about extending Alabama’s cultural hegemony! Indeed! You know, I didn't even think of Ms. Rice and shame on me. I may have to rethink my vote. (Or just vote multiple times) As an aside, Colin Powell's wife Alma also grew up in Birmingham. IN a related matter, I am concerned about Gena Lewis' sudden urge to start talking smack about the Hog and Hominy Staters giving the Axis of Weevil a run for its money. Leave it to a bunch of lawyers to bring money into it! Don't get too cocky, there, sis--remember you proclaim yourself to be a ::gulp:: L-I-B-E-R-A-L, and as the Lone Ranger, you might get into one of those situations where Tonto says "What this WE business, Kemo Sabe!?" In any event, remember to check out Shots Across the Bow by East Tennessean Rich Hailey. And lest any of you outlanders mistake Miss Gena's intrafamilial backtalk as a sign of potential weakness, all I can say is we's family, and we can whup up on each other as much as we want. But we'll whup you worse than we do each other so watch out!
Reason #3,245 To Let J.Lileks Do Your Screeds This Year
Rare form and rarin' to go; a light sample herewith: People in my camp are often accused of being slope-shouldered keyboard monkeys channeling the spirits of Mars from our warm comfy rooms, urging war! war! war! against Iraq with no thought towards the consequences. The worst consequence, oddly enough, seems to be the defeat of Iraq. Why, this might destabilize the entire region. True. It’s also true that the defeat of Berlin ushered in a brief period of destabilization in southern France. What’s not certain is why stability is our friend - particularly when we are talking about a state, or states, that regard Americans as slick fat curs sucking the hind tit of Satan’s shitzu. Tuesday, March 26, 2002
A Novo Hampshirian Takes a Gander at the South
From Mark Byron, a link to another Yankee feller, Benjamin Kepple, who talks up the 'Saving of Civilization by The South' idea, with a slightly different viewpoint. Good points, including: "First, to say main-line Southern culture is responsible for the good found in the old Civil Rights struggle is stretching it, to say the least. The fight for racial equality would have been far less productive without the support of Northern politicians and Northern activists of all races, who frequently made great sacrifices to ensure their fellow men were made equal in the eyes of the Law. Indeed, had Northerners such as President Kennedy not supported the civil rights leaders of that era, one can imagine the struggle would have been far less peaceful, and might have resulted in a far more radical political shift than the one which took place. After all, without outside help, who knows how long Rev King's message of non-violence would have lasted? How long before those disgusted with seeing blacks as second-class citizens in the South turned en masse to socialism? This is not idle thinking, either. The historian Harry Turtledove, whom one could call a Southern sympathiser, has put forth a similar hypothesis in his "alternative history" books." The only part I can fault is that the folks who were "disgusted with seeing blacks as second-class citizens in the South" often turned a blind eye to the the reality of blacks being treated as second-class citizens in the North. Back in February I linked to a Newhouse News Service article detailing the Great Migration from the South to the North and Midwest, and the very similar conditions blacks had to contend with in both the North and the South. The portrait is not a flattering one, regardless of your location relative to the Mason-Dixon Line.
Roger Clinton, Airport Consultant
From the Birmingham News: A movement to build an international airport in Alabama fizzled in 1997 after a former Birmingham City Council member refused to hire President Clinton's half brother, a congressional panel concluded. [...] [T]he House Government Reform Committee describes how Katopodis alleges he was pressured to hire Roger Clinton for $35,000 a month in exchange for getting a cabinet secretary to attend a symposium on the airport idea. After Katopodis ultimately declined to hire Roger Clinton, his overtures to then-Secretary of Transportation Rodney Slater were ignored, investigators said. "Support for the airport and its promotional symposium lost all momentum because of the delay in receiving a response from the secretary," the report states. Katopodis said Monday the local political enthusiasm for the airport was already wavering and his refusal to hire the president's younger brother may have been a factor in, but was not the sole cause of, the failure of his proposal. "I don't think the Clinton administration's extortion attempts were very helpful to the whole process, but there were other factors as well," Katopodis said. "That wasn't it alone. I think they took some editorial license there." Well, I reckon so. Of course, "editorial license" and "extortion attempts" aren't quite in the same league, are they.
You Say 'Trollish Hit Whore' Like It's A Bad Thing
Please send Greg Hlatky a note. Do not try to enlarge his breasts, though.
Idle Hands Are The Devil's Workshop
The hardy members of The Pseudo-Melangaic, Not Quite Axially Oriented Network of Tangentially Interconnected Alabama Blog Cells ("We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week, but all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting by a simple majority in the case of purely internal affairs, but by a two-thirds majority in the case of more major...")--otherwise known as the Axis of Weevil, have begun turning in their homework assignments in which they nominate potential recipients of the Croix de Grits for actions over and above the call of duty in promoting the eventual domination of the world by Southern Culture. In no particular order, we have: From Lee Ann Morawski of Spinsters.com I received the following nominees: The aforementioned Florence King for her literary and cultural achievements. See Memoirs of a Failed Southern Lady, Southern Ladies and Gentlemen, and the Florence King Reader for supporting evidence. Her "Misanthrope's Corner" in National Review On-dead-tree is great, too. Clarence Thomas for his political and intellectual achievements. He is also a burr under the saddle of liberals everywhere. He's from Georgia I believe, or SC. [Born in Pin Point, Georgia, for the record. Possum] The black voters of Mississippi, who are nominated for sheer all-fired cussed orneriness. Klan don't want us to vote? Screw 'em. NAACP wants to take away our flag? Screw them too. 66% of black 'Ssippians voted to keep the state flag with the Stars and Bars. If that isn't the Southern piss-ass tradition, what is? Charles Austin, producer of Sine Qua Non Pundit sends in the following: Howell Raines is an Alabamian who has made good. The problem in this case is that made good is relative. After distinguishing and polishing his liberal credentials on the op-ed pages, he is now the editor of the New York Times. Of course, if a native Alabamian can become the de facto leader of the Northeast liberal establishment, that's quite an accomplishment. My favorite character in Alabama was the Benedictine Monk Brother Joseph Zoettl, O.S.B., who built the Ave Maria Grotto in Cullman out of marbles, cold cream jars, etc. If you haven't been there, you need to go sometime. It really is amazing ... and it's in Cullman! From Mac Thomason, War Liberal: "The list of baseball players from Alabama is probably the most impressive of any state, per capita. Birmingham produced Willie Mays, but Mobile... Wow. Hank Aaron, Satchel Paige, Willie McCovey, Billy Williams, Tommie Agee, Cleon Jones, Amos Otis, and Ozzie Smith. Early Wynn was from Hartford, Don Sutton from Clio -- I don't even know where that is!" [For the record, Clio is in Barbour County, and is the birthplace of George Corley Wallace. Possum] Elizabeth Spiers at Capital Influx has a good'un (and a nice take on the Axis of Weevil): My nomination is going to be Birmingham native Edward O. Wilson. A world-famous biologist and Pulitzer Prize-winning author, named by Time magazine as one of America's 25 most influential people of the 20th century, this mild-mannered, courtly southerner has been raising hackles for much of his career [I'm all for hackle raising.] Lost My Marbles guy Ray Mikell reports as follows: "Will get back to you, I think, but I'm freakin' insane busy right now. Goin' to be in New Orleans Friday, though, to present a conference paper and blah blah and then go do some very southern things, besides look out at St. Charles from a place with an actual veranda: 1) See a Tennesse Williams play, 2) Eat way too much creole food and 3) See a real jazz show, downtown, by a real New Orleans outfit. Oh, and I'll drink too. But I don't think I really needed to mention that. It's a rough life. Danged if it ain't. So, there you have it...for the moment, at least.
Shots Across the Bow
Former Navy man and native Tennessean Rich Hailey started his blog back in January, and having found the Possum's nest, has proposed an alliance with the Axis of Weevil in order to promote his choice for the Croix de Grits, Tennessee Senator Fred Thompson. As with all medal citation applications, Mr. Hailey will be required to enumerate the ways in which Thompson has made the South a better place. Even though Rich is not an Alabamian, my dad was in the Navy, and Rich has even more kids than I do, and East Tennessee has the Smoky Mountains, so there should be no complaints about allowing him to play. Remember, Possumblog plays by Calvinball rules, which may change as the game progresses. Monday, March 25, 2002
You say "cultural chauvinist" like it's a bad thing!
A long one from Steven Den Beste on the mutal exclusivity of Islamofascism and Civilization. Lots of good points to ponder--one in particular: I happen to be an atheist but I don't intend to impose atheism on anyone else. My nation is secular and democratic, but I don't think that as a matter of principle we should go out and force the world to become democratic and secular or die at our hands. On the other hand, I do believe that my system, while imperfect, is still better than any other known one, and in the long run I think it will dominate the world. I think this will be a good thing. I, too, am a cultural chauvinist. I feel no shame in that. But I'm not militant about it, and I'm willing to tolerate other chauvinists as long as they don't become militant. This war was thrust upon us by militant Islamic extremists, whose belief system cannot tolerate mine to exist. For my system to continue to exist, theirs must be changed. This is not a war of faith on my side, it's just a practical necessity. They need not give up Islam, but their fundamentalism will have to be destroyed. Islam must become tolerant, because as long as it is not we will continue to have wars with them. I would say Den Beste's assertion in his opening paragraph that it is necessary for Muslims to give up a belief in inerrancy and universality is not quite accurate--it is not necessarily the belief in these things that causes the problems--it is the belief that it is acceptable to kill innocent people for the sake of them. Mr. Den Beste is an atheist, a philosphy which has its own somewhat strident adherents, but quite correctly he notes that he's not about to get his dynamite strapped on to go make some converts. Likewise, I am a Christian, and can be pretty hard-headed about inerrancy and universality. However, I don't think Jesus would like it if I killed 3,000 office workers in His name. For Islam to have a place in this scheme, Den Beste is quite right--learn to play nice and live in harmony, or suffer the consequences from the rest of us who are getting pretty tired of being set upon by a bunch of demi-brained hypocritical murderers.
Medal of Honor is Not A Weapon
Good one from Snopes, detailing the airport ordeal of 86 year old retired Marine Corps Gen. Joseph J. Foss.
Restoring Confidence to the Flying Public
The Transportation Department inspector general found airport security screeners on several dozen occasions failed to catch guns and simulated explosives, even after the September terrorist attacks, a person familiar with the report said Monday. Inspector General Kenneth Mead's report found that screeners missed knives 70 percent of the time and guns 30 percent of the time and also concluded that the screeners failed to detect simulated explosives 60 percent of the time, said the source, speaking on condition of anonymity. The source said Mead's report also said that banned items got through screeners almost half of the time. [...] Former FAA security chief Billie Vincent said the report was not surprising, considering that the checkpoints were staffed by the same low-paid, poorly trained screeners who were there before the Sept. 11 attacks. In addition, Vincent said, current equipment cannot detect explosives, nor can it detect many varieties of cutting tools. "The technology at the screening points is not there," Vincent said. "The current metal detectors won't do the job. If you turn it high enough to detect that much metal, you will have an alarm on every person going through." I feel better knowing that those old, low-paid, poorly trained screeners will be replaced by high-paid, richly trained screeners. Nothing will get past them, nosiree. You know, maybe if someone would decide that a four-year old girl and her grandma are not quite the same security risk as a sweaty, shifty-looking dude who bought his one-way ticket with cash...aw, who am I kidding.
Next Year In Birmingham
Article in Sunday's Birmingham News by homeboy Frederick Keimann, a free-lance critic who has become part of the diaspora in Highland Park, New Jersey, and yearns to eat his Seder in the Promised Land: I may have moved away from Birmingham, but my memories of the place are strong, and there is no better time to return to Birmingham than for the Festival of Freedom. Birmingham is a very spiritual place. People between the Cahaba and Black Warrior rivers, in the vicinity of Red Mountain and under the shadow of the once mighty Vulcan constantly think about what it means to be holy. And they take it to heart. The rest of the country isn't like that. Most of America doesn't go to church. Birmingham does. Even as a Jew, it was a privilege to live among people struggling to connect themselves with God. That's not the North. You talk like that, and people take a step back. In Birmingham, they ask if you're free for coffee. So to come to Birmingham for Passover is to return to holy ground. When I get here, I'll visit Temple Emanu-El and cry because it will always be my spiritual home. Then I go to the churches I attended for interfaith dialogues. Next to Kelly Ingram Park and Vulcan and Sloss Furnaces and Moody and Sandy Vista in Ensley, if there's time. There are so many stories here. I can only guess at all the memories, history and goodness in those places and others. My memories are the least of what makes Birmingham a great place for Passover, a most Southern Jewish holiday. The heart of the South beats with the blood of Exodus. Everyone knows the most obvious example. The Israelites' flight by slavery was widely cited by abolitionist and subsequent civil rights leaders in the struggle against slavery and its aftermath. Good article-read it all.
Bringing the Heavy Cultural Artillery of the Axis of Weevil to Bear
Good Morning, Weevil Minions! I have just sent a proposition to the membership of the Alabama Society for Blogging and World Domination that might be fun. (It also might be good to remember that a Southerner’s usual last words are "Hey, y’all; watch this!”) I don’t know how often you read the other Alablogger’s stuff, but Lee Ann Morawski of Spinsters.com and I have had a couple of entries lately about Mark Byron’s blogthesis on the role of the South in saving Civilization, which was also picked up and further expanded upon by cute-blog-name-loving Natalie Solent. One of the reasons I started my blog (aside from the huge salary and celebrity status) is because I wanted folks to know more about Alabama, and especially the positive things about our state, and the South in general. There are a lot of good things about Alabama, despite what others may think, or what we may even think ourselves. That is one of the reasons why I have tried to find as many Alabama bloggers as possible to link to. Now, here comes the fun part—Miss Lee Ann, well-known recipient of the ORDER OF MORAWSKI, and I got to discussing privately the idea of “formally” recognizing people who have gone above and beyond the call of duty in service to Alabama and the South. Sort of a Medal of Honor, or Croix de Grits, or something, given to honor contemporary folks who have contributed to the intellectual, political, artistic, literary, moral, spiritual, culinary, etc., life of the state. I have sent a message to each member of the Axis of Weevil to ask if they know of someone who has done this. I have written before about Dr. Thomas Wdowiak, who is an astrophysicist here at UAB who has worked on a bunch of NASA missions, writes a kid’s science column in the Birmingham News called “Tommy Test Tubes,” and is perennially voted “Best Professor” by his students. Lee Ann mentioned Florence King, author of Memoirs of a Failed Southern Lady. There are many we could think of, and the Alabloggers have been asked to post some links to folks they think would fit the bill. You might be asked to vote on who you think would be worthy or we might get one of us to set up an online poll to get input from you. (Details, details... Shades of Andy Hardy--“Hey, kids, let’s put on a show in the barn!”) As Lee Ann rightly mentioned to me privately, we will not be honoring just anybody. The nominees you will read about in the coming days (weeks, months--hey, we have our own open-ended operation going!) are supposed to be those who have given strong and faithful service to Alabama (or the South), have a certain pride in their Southern heritage, and maybe even a dash of good old-fashioned patriotism. One very important thing is that we are trying to ignore those who have done or said anything embarrassingly blatantly boneheaded which has brought (or might bring) down shame and reproach upon the South (or more importantly, upon the Axis of Weevil.) Lee Ann notes, however, that “eccentricity is fine. Heck, insanity is a fine Southern tradition. Keeps the riffraff out.” SO then, you have seen the birth of a challenge, a quest, a crusade to expose to the blogosphere those long-suffering Southerners who have, through their tireless efforts, opened up a No. 10-sized can of cultural whup-ass on the world. Yellowhammers! Drop two clicks and fire for effect! Sunday, March 24, 2002
Hey, guess what? I made it! (Barely) But, survived nonetheless. I think I was allowed to survive in order to go and warn the others.
Before I get cranked up, thanks to my new visitors who dropped by this weekend from Midwest Conservative Journal and Inappropriate Response and Mark Byron's blog and Ye Olde Blogge and Natalie Solent's blog and for Greg Hlatky's answer to my earlier inquiry about homophonic canines. I hope you all found something you liked, and that you visit again soon. I'm sorry I'm not a weekend blogger, but there always seems to be something happening every weekend; vis.: It was a dark and stormy night…wait, that’s not it—It turned out that the Saturday soccer action was a bit less like Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon and a bit more like Napoleon crossing the Niemen. All that planning and driving, yet both kids' teams lost by the identical scores of 3-2. The ignominy of it all! Oh, well, at least they had a good time. Rebecca is positioned as a sweeper, and she is pretty aggressive and likes playing defense. Jonathan likes getting out and running around flailing his arms like a windmill and watching the kids on the adjoining fields. Which is not necessarily bad, except when he does this while on the field playing the game. Thankfully, his powers of concentration are a step ahead of most of the other boys on the team, so it wasn't so bad. As to the logistical challenge, there is always one thing left out of even the best plans, so the fog of war caused a slight hitch. I got finished with my meeting at church late so I got on the interstate and tried to beat it down to Shelby County, hoping to maybe catch everyone before they left the park, only to face a collision-induced mile-long traffic jam at the exit to Highway 119. I took the Highway 17 exit, figuring I would get around it one way or another. No dice, so I decided I would wait for everyone at my mom's house. Got there, walked in door, met my sister coming in the back door who said "You're supposed to be over at the park to meet your family." Explained about traffic jam and attempts to circumvent it, tried to raise my wife on the phone (not turned on), and confirmed once more with sister that they were indeed going to WAIT at the park. Got back out and, of course, the jam had completely cleared. Raced over to Our Lady of the Valley and met scowling wife about to pull out of the driveway. "I thought you were going to meet us here." Explained for final time about traffic jam, reroute attempt, mom's house, cell phone not on, me being a complete idiot--and then we went back to Mom's, got out for about ten minutes, decided that there were insufficient vittles to feed everyone, so then we all packed up again and went to eat at a restaurant. An army travels on its stomach, you know. Saturday was a beautiful, perfect spring day; although a young man's fancy may turn to thoughts of love, wives' thoughts turn to yardwork. During the ride over to the restaurant, I was informed that Lowe's has azaleas on sale, and how nice the back of the yard would look with a line of redbuds and crape myrtles across the back, and that after we get back to the house, a particular wife of mine might go over and see what Cedar Street Garden Shop has in the way of interesting, hernia-inducing stone things. Convinced of my superior reasoning ability, I suggested that shopping was okay, but not to get anything to plant or tote today, seeing as how we still had an Alpine mound of clothes to clean and two somewhat soiled kids and two really soiled kids to bathe and feed. Continuing with the theme of ancient battles, let me just say that the part of Pyrrhus fits me well. She relented, but one other such victory would undo me! Luckily, I have an extremely forgiving wife, so I was able to extricate myself from my straits with a tour of the grounds of lovely Maison d'Possum, in which we discussed the location of future plantings, future stacked rock planter beds, future water feature, future cricket pitch, future multiplex cinema, and the small hole into which I will be dumped when the old ticker squirts out of my chest. The rest of the day was uneventful—children bathed, fed, and bedded down for the night, with time to spare for me to vegetate and read a bit. I read one page of Rick Bragg's book Ava's Man and fell asleep. (When I say a bit, I MEAN a bit.) Sunday—NO NAP FOR YOU! I didn't really try too hard this time—we still had to finish laundry, so it's not like I had settled in and gotten woken up, or had really expected to get one. But the dream still lives. Church services were great, except for my odd habit of nodding off. I don't know what causes that. Fortunately, my five year old learned how to whistle this weekend, and decided to see what this sounded like in church. That'll wake you up. There are several reasons we sit toward the back, and our little one is the majority of them. At least she didn't start singing "Oops, I Did it Again." It was very embarrassing the last time it happened. We are about to turn in now. All of the kids (except wild baby) are already in bed; Mama and I and the Caboose are watching the Oscars. I figure that for this thing, everybody's a critic, so I just don't even try to make a comment—someone else already beat me to it, and said it better than I ever could. I will note that we were finishing up supper when Cameron Diaz came out to present whatever award she was doling out. Every single kid said, "Eww, what's wrong with her hair?! Why didn't she brush it?! Why is she on TV like that?!" As I said, someone beat me to it, and said it better than I could. Anyway, that's all for tonight. I'll see all of you bright and early tomorrow with an exciting new announcement regarding the Axis of Weevil! Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering? Well, I think so, Brain, but I can’t memorize a whole opera in Yiddish. Saturday, March 23, 2002
No Apology Needed!
I woke up this morning and saw all these hits from the Quantrill Raiders and didn't know what to think! My thanks to Christopher Johnson, editor of the Midwest Conservative Journal for the link to Possumblog, and my apologies to YOU for adding absolutely nothing of value to your listings. Except, that is, my well-known stealth capabilities. To all of you from MCJ, the place is a mess, but I wasn't expecting company. Just let me move all that stuff off the couch and let you sit down. Make yourself at home--there's tea in the refrigerator. You have to jiggle the handle on the toilet to make it quit running. Uh, that's pretty much it. Friday, March 22, 2002
Looks like it’s getting to be that time again—the action-packed, thrill-a-minute weekend awaits!
My older sister is up from Mobile for the weekend, so I’ll get to see her a little bit. Which is more than enough. I mean, I love her and all that, but she’s even more peculiar than I am. Think of a cross between the sitcom characters of Diane Chambers from Cheers, Eunice Higgins from The Carol Burnett Show and Carol Weston from Empty Nest; then throw in some gunpowder and broken glass. Incredibly entertaining and scary as hell. Saturday promises to be akin to the crossing of the Rubicon, as my wife and I try to coordinate the logistics of going to two separate soccer games on either side of the county, a concurrent teacher’s meeting at church in yet another part of the county, and visiting my mom, who mercifully lives somewhat close to the area of the second soccer game. Two vehicles, four kids, four venues, a million road-bound morons, and one parent with the brains of a possum. Luckily, I have 50 teeth and a prehensile tail. After an appropriate period of chattiness with Mama’n’em, the Oglesby platoon will re-embark and head back to lovely Trussville, to the calming charms of home and the need to…yep, you guessed it, do laundry and dishes and clean house. I keep trying to figure out how our place gets so messy—we’re NEVER there! Beyond the normal churchin’-up of Sunday, I don’t know if we have anything planned. I sure hope not. I keep this dream in the back of my mind that one Sunday, I’m actually going to be able to actually take one of my murkily-remembered Sunday Afternoon Naps. It’s been a loooooong time since I had a real good, stripped-down-to-skivvies, in the bed, drooling, dreaming, Nap. Think of me as Charlie Brown, my Nap as a football, and Life as Lucy Van Pelt. “Come on, Charlie Brown, you can do it!” “Aaaaarrrgh!” The only difference is that at least Charlie Brown does have a moment where he actually is supine. Yeah, yeah, I know—one day I’ll miss all the hair-pulling, TV-blaring, clarinet-squeaking, Game Boy-bleeping mayhem around home. It’ll be like Burgess Meredith in the Twilight Zone episode where he had all the books in the world to read and his glasses were broken. They’re only young once, carpe diem, all that. I still want my derned nap, though. See you Monday!
With profound thanks to Mac Thomason for his recent spate of "Great Moments in Headline Writing" I give you this beaut from the New Zealand webzine Stuff: Californian couple guilty in grizzly dog mauling case
The couple mauled the grizzly dogs? Shocking. And hey, Greg Hlatky, just what is a "grizzly dog"?
Gun Permits Surge, But Not Violence
From The Detroit News [...] Neva LaRue of North Branch is among the 10 percent of applicants who are women. She drives to Royal Oak each Tuesday to participate in a women's gun group sponsored by the Michigan Coalition For Responsible Gun Owners. "For me, protecting myself is a big issue," said LaRue, who twice was turned down for a CCW permit before the law passed, and has a pending application now. "I've been assaulted twice by the same man. I don't want to get hurt again. I don't want to get dragged out of my car again -- and I don't want to see other women have to go through that, either. So I'm really active in trying to get women involved in defending themselves." Such self-defense has not yet resulted in any kind of wave of new gun violence among those with fresh CCW permits, several law enforcement officials throughout Metro Detroit agreed. "That's really the surprise," said Wayne County Sheriff Robert Ficano. "There are no altercations or incidents I've seen that are at all attributable to the law change. We thought there might be some." Gosh, it's almost as if owning a gun does not necessarily make someone a criminal.
Retrograde Lunacy
Good wrap-up from War Liberal Mac Thomason on the valiantly brave efforts by the Alabama Legislature to stave off attempts by cruel, heartless, special interest groups who have been pushing to allow the voters of the state to decide whether or not to call a state Constitutional convention. The nerve of those voters! Don't they know that the 1901 Constitution was carved in stone by the Almighty hisself and handed down from Cheaha Mountain to the oppressed denizens of this fair state? Do those stupid taxpayers not understand that if they were allowed to change the Holy Writ that they might be saddled with fair taxation, or local control of local legislation, or proper funding for education, or limits to the power of elected officials? Silly, silly citizens. They can't be trusted, you know. Lucky for us that the Most Holy Legislature, by divine right, has put a stop to this, dare I say it, CRIMINAL, attempt by people to vote on something that might take the sugar teat of power from our brave representatives. All this "thinking for ourselves" twaddle will just get us in trouble!
More Grist for the Mill
Namesake of the Order of Morawski, Miss Lee Ann herself, expounds upon the civilizing wonders of Southernosity. It is kind of hard to go wrong with Washington, Jefferson, and Madison. Thursday, March 21, 2002
Mmmmm! Protein!
Thanks to the good folks over at Protein Wisdom for adding Possumblog into their list of bloglinks. Not believing my good fortune, I sent a messenger boy with a thank-you note and received a nice personal response from Mr. Jeff Goldstein who, despite having 89 year old knees, still manages to dance a mean Lindy Hop and give the Phi Mu girls at the U of Denver a thrill.
NOW He Tells Me!
Mark Byron puts forth some thought-provoking hypotheses about the essential role Southerners and Southern culture have played in the advances of civilization in the last century. He posits that the elements of Southern culture such as its martial spirit, religious orthodoxy, political conservatism, and the struggle for equal rights made America a stronger place and contributed to a richer world. Well, one hopes we have earned our keep. I believe the thread that runs through all of these elements is a belief in absolute truth, and a willingness to fight to defend that truth. For the most part, the definition of this truth is the same one found in the Declaration of Independence--"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." For better or worse, we tend to see these words as more than an abstraction. We see them as tangible, as real as ourselves. I don't know if Southerners hold this more dear than any other people. But this definition of truth, and the reverence it is given, is what has led us all--black and white, rich and poor, man and woman--to fight and die. Duty, honor, and service, whether humping a ruck across the desert or facing down Bull Conner in the streets of Birmingham, are real things. In a sophisticated world that values nuances and shades and spin and polite dissembling and plausible deniability, such concrete ideals are chuckled at as hopelessly infantile. Whatever. Just remember it's a lot easier to build on rock than sand.
Connecting the Dots
Adil Farooq at Muslim Pundit once again gets out the sharp stick and rubber gloves. Wednesday, March 20, 2002
He's No Geo. Washington, But He's Real
Elizabeth Spiers notes the latest from the Arab News, quoting James J. David. Her take? Funny how the Arab News conveniently manages to produce an inarticulate idiot with an American name to support whatever absurd allegation they happen to be pushing at a given moment. I'm just waiting for "Mr. George Washington" to write a column on why the U.S. is a failed experiment and should be annexed by the far more capable Saudis. Believe it or not, James J. David is real. He is a contributing writer to Media Monitors Network which was founded and is edited by Muhammad Ali Khan. From the MMN website we find that-- "MMN was established in California, USA, in October 2000 and is destined to become a major platform for serious media contributors and observers from around the globe. MMN is not sponsored by anyone influential and does this intentionally so that we will not be 'forced' into one opinion or another." Gosh, golly, gee! It sounds refreshing, doesn't it?! Of course, you might not want to write a letter to the editor in Hebrew. The opinion MMN's writers have of you was not forced on them; it is one they chose alllll by themselves. By the way, according to this article he wrote in the January 12, 2002 issue of NileMedia, David is retired from the Georgia Army National Guard.
Fun in the County of Oranges
Lileks' Newhouse column of today, in which he acts all inclusive and impartial-- But in today's culture, the people who value "sensitivity" more than sense will flourish and thrive. And it's instructive that it took a public outcry for the Red Cross to admit that they acted like -- well, like neutral impartial universalists. The CEO of the Orange County Red Cross makes $171K a year, and one suspects he will make that much next year, too. One hates to think the Red Cross would use contributions to pay for a bonus to award good spin control. One doubts that would happen. At this point, however, one wouldn't be surprised at all. Shocked! SHOCKED!
As requested by Mark Byron, an essay upon “How the South Saved Civilization”
I don’t know—I mean, we haven’t, yet. See, we think one of the kids must have backed over Civilization while it was chasing a chipmunk across the driveway. We took the poor thing to the veterinarian, but things didn’t look promising. We thought we were going to have to put it down. It’s better now, but still has some recovering to do. It’s not bad looking, except, of course, for the tire marks, and looks like it would be good to have around. It seems real smart, and even hurt it can do some neat stuff. It didn’t have a collar and tag on it, so we have put up flyers all around the neighborhood. So far, nobody has claimed it. We used to have one sort of like it, a long time ago, but it kept biting people and finally one of the neighbors had to shoot it. They gave us one that was related to theirs but it got really big and ate everything in sight, so we sent it back to them and got one of our own. That one has lived a long time—it looked a lot like our neighbor’s, but still had a bad habit of biting. The neighbor didn’t shoot this one, but he didn’t like it either, at least to begin with. Neither did half of our kids. The other kids thought it was great, though, until it started turning on them, too. We tried training it, but it was hard to control then, and hasn’t gotten much better over time. Poor thing has gotten so old now that it just seems confused all the time. So, even though it’s a bit selfish, we’re sort of hoping no one claims the other one we’re keeping now. The two don’t always get along, but they don’t always fight, either. (Lord help if they manage to have a litter.) The vet bills are hurting us, but we felt guilty and it looked so nice, so we keep trying to nurse it along. Things continue to look a little better every day for Civ; pray for us and it, too.
Mark Byron Lays Forth an Assignment
Possumblog, your source for all your high-tech redneck needs (such as the newly introduced Skoll canholder attachment for Palm and the digital roofing hammer), wishes to thank Mr. Byron for the confidence shown in Mr. Curly Tail's ability to produce, on-demand, an essay about "How the South Saved Civilization." Apparently believing that I have a clue, Mark has placed a heavy burden upon my addled gray matter. HOWEVER, knowing that part of The Code is never to shirk from a challenge, I will now sequester myself in my furry nest and start making up a bunch of crap. Lying has a long and honored tradition and serves as a way to elevate the mind without all the hard work of actually educating yourself. To be serious for a moment, it does seem that Mr. Byron has a pretty good handle on the good part of the South where "the small pleasures like good churches, good ribs and pretty girls (not necessarily in that order) are still appreciated." Religion, food, and sex. Take one away, and the rest just don't matter much anymore.
Human Rights Pariah, USA
Dave Koppel's editorial in today's National Review Online, discussing China's view of the United States' record on human rights, developed with help from our good friends on the Left: The Chinese government frets that "The United States is the country with the biggest number of private guns." We are also, of course, the country with the biggest number of private books, private churches, private newspapers, private computers, private single-family homes, and other tools and incidents of freedom. It is no coincidence that America is a simultaneously a well-armed and a prosperous nation, for both traits stem from America's culture of freedom and individualism. [...] The gun-banning Chinese regime unintentionally proves its illegitimacy by distributing Mao's "Little Red Book," which contains Mao's dictum: "Every Communist must grasp the truth, 'Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun.'" (From "Problems of War and Strategy," Nov. 6, 1938.) Neither Mao nor his successors wanted "the common people" to have any political power, and therefore the common people are prevented from possessing arms. If the Chinese people were as well armed as the American people, China would soon have a very different government. As the Declaration of Independence affirms, the only legitimate governments are those whose power derives from the consent of the governed. Because, as China's gun laws demonstrate, China's rulers lack such consent, China's dictators are no more of a legitimate "government" than the hundred marchers in Washington were really a "million" mothers. I'm sure the Chinese will also embrace Comrade Bellisiles for his exposure of the false idea of a national gun culture in the U.S.
Well, you see, son, Santy Claus is magic
Or, Barbecue So Good It's Worth Doing Time For Or, Why We Need Educational Reform Or, Life of Crime Leads to New Life as Chimney Sweep A would-be burglar almost gave new meaning to the Bob Sykes Barbecue slogan of "slow cooked in fine Southern tradition" before Bessemer firefighters extracted him Tuesday from one of the restaurant's vents. Sykes cook Alonzo Scott said he had just gotten to work around 4:30 Tuesday morning when a muffled male voice startled him. Scott said he thought it was a co-worker who had just arrived, yelling from outside to be let in. "I heard the voice again and looked," he said. Scott said he saw a pair of blue and white Reeboks dangling from above the hamburger grill. [...] Scott said he went to the roof and saw the top of the man stuck in the 10-foot-tall, one-foot-wide vent with his hands above his head. The man had climbed onto the roof on maintenance ladders attached to the back of the building. Back inside the restaurant, Scott said, he and a co-worker unsuccessfully tried to extract the man, then called 911. Scott said the man was most agreeable with calling the authorities. [...] "He was a greasy mess," Police Chief Ron Brown said. "It was good that he was stuck where someone could see him before they started cooking." Van Sykes, who owns the popular Bessemer restaurant, said purloining pork had to have been the burglar's motive. "There is no money here," Sykes said. "I don't know why someone would break in other than to take some barbecue." Scott said Dearman had applied for a job at Sykes about six months ago and recently returned to inquire about the job. "I told him to come back in two weeks," Scott said, "and I guess he came back in two weeks." Yep, sure did.
Demagogues find fertile soil in state
Elaine Witt's column in yesterday's evening paper, the Birmingham Post-Herald. (Scroll down to read it--and no, I don't know why they don't separate individual stories) Earlier this month, political scientists Carl Grafton and Anne Permaloff published a commentary on demagogues. The two, who teach at Auburn University at Montgomery, argued that much of the history of the 20th century was shaped by demagogues. Witt attended a meeting at which Grafton discussed his and Permaloff's work, and in particular the role of Alabama as a breeding ground for demagogues such as Alabama Supreme Court Chief Justice Roy Moore-- Demagogues, he said, "seem to prosper in certain settings. I'm not sure what the parameters are, but it seems clear Alabama is an environment where they thrive." The great cases in the state's recent history have been Wallace and Bull Connor, he said, describing Fob James as somewhat "small-bore for that role." Demagogues may be attracted to "crackpot legal theories," he said, noting that in 1956 the Alabama Legislature declared civil rights rulings of the U.S. Supreme Court "were null, void and of no effect" in Alabama. For his part, Moore has inspired a political movement that bases its defense of the Alabama Constitution on the assertion that the document is "godly." To justify his rejection of the U.S. Constitution's ban on state-sponsored religion, Moore has developed a dizzying, highly selective mixture of legal theory, history, theology and biology. According to Grafton, Moore's writings and speeches "suggest he believes in a unified theory that scientific theory and law all derived from religious contemplation," Grafton said. And Grafton does believe that Moore, unlike Wallace, believes every word of the hogwash he is spouting. As Mr. Costanza would say, "It's not a lie if you believe it." Tuesday, March 19, 2002
Due to the mercurial nature of Yahoo and GeoCities, Possumblog has now moved its nest to Blogspot. To everyone who got here from the old GeoCities site, sorry for the trouble.
So now, once more into the breech... New Security Upgrade In what has become a monthly report, I dropped by the Jefferson County Courthouse to pay my sewer bill and see how the post-9/11 security enhancements are proceeding. Upon arriving at the door, I noticed that the security queue has now been relocated to the first set of doors rather than the center. Also, the previous sheet of printer paper with the "No Weapons Allowed" statement has been replaced by a piece of paper with nice little colorfully rendered clip art images of guns and knives and box cutters. I felt so much safer knowing we have access to inkjet technology. "Look, Kamzhin, our plans to disrupt essential county functions such as the issuing of building permits and dog licenses has been foiled." "Yes, Hamad, mighty curses upon the clever infidels--now with the pictures of may colors, we will never be able to infiltrate to the inner reaches of this hateful cave of oppressors!"
Common Sense
John Lott's opinion column from the Hartford Courant in which he takes on the following: Today at state Senate hearings in Connecticut, Democratic gubernatorial candidate and Senate Majority Leader George Jepsen is scheduled to push legislation requiring the Department of Public Safety to annually determine what firearms are suitable for hunting or self-defense and then essentially ban the rest. Fair enough. Would you like for your Department of Public Safety also decide for the types of automobiles we may drive (no Corvettes or Vipers--they exist only to break the speed limit law and suck up precious natural resources), the food we may eat (no fat--fat kills, you know. And don't let us catch you feeding your children stuff with fat in it either!), the activities we do for recreation (sorry, rock climbing, swimming, hang gliding, private aviation, etc, are all dangerous and subject to criminal misuse), and the types of magazines and books we read (Officer--arrest that man! He has a copy of Guns and Ammo!). Yes, it sound pretty stupid. But stupidity has never been an impediment to public office or the implementation of law.
The Washington Post on Guns
Except this is one article I was able to read all the way through without rolling my eyes and muttering dirty words. WaPo's Stephen Hunter on the National Rifle Association's National Firearms Museum in Fairfax, Virginia, in particular a new exhibit "Real Guns of Reel Heroes." Mr. Hunter throws a bone to all of us hog leg lovers: A true Hollywood favorite has been the Colt .45 automatic, beloved companion of GIs in two world wars -- "old slab-sides," someone has called it. Hollywood has fetishized it even more than has its most acrimonious advocate, Jeff Cooper, and in the catalogue I count eight of them -- including Sam Elliott's from "We Were Soldiers," John Travolta's (!) from "Pulp Fiction" and Steve McQueen's from "The Getaway" -- as well as a faux .45. This would be the .45 that William Holden carried in "The Wild Bunch," that encomium to John M. Browning's genius at designing a service pistol. If only all Post stories could be like this...
Fahrenheit 451
From Dr. Weevil, on lefty fun with matches: [...] I'm not totally convinced that the campus Left has forgotten about Nazi book burning. They may prefer to use Nazi methods for the shock value, like the adolescent morons they are. They may have found that burning things provides a bigger thrill than other methods: Butt-Head's even stupider friend Beavis had strong pyromaniacal tendencies. [...] I still remember when I first heard or read Yale deconstructionist Paul de Man's line "the resistance to theory is a resistance to reading". As a hopelessly retrograde atheoretical reader, my immediate reaction was "if I'm the Resistance, what are you, a f***in' Nazi?" Little did I know.
THANKS!
While I was off sick, I had several folks link to the Possumblog who came here via Inappropriate Response. Whenever Miss Moira links to me, I always get a flood of folks, and occasionally some of them even like what they see. First was Susanna Cornett at Cut on the Bias, who made me blush and get all fidgety with her praise of Possum. She relates that she is a Bluegrass girl, but for some unknown crime was sentenced to Newark. She still has her priorities right as a priestess of Adolph Rupp, though, so they haven't beat all the goodness out of her. And she says she makes a pretty mean biscuit. Then, we have Mark Byron, a free-market, dynamist neoconservative Michigander who says Possumblog's "got the high-tech redneck tounge-in-cheek going down." High-tech? Apparently Mark doesn't know I named my son Ned Ludd Oglesby, or that I keep a supply of wooden sabots in the closet. The Axis of Weevil continues to probe it proboscis into the hinterlands, and influenced Mark to post the following joke: "There were two brother boll weevils. One was notorious, eating lots of cotton. The other one didn't do much, and was thus known as the lesser of the two weevils." Thanks, too, for the get well wishes. I still hurt all over, but at least I can type.
Lileks' Bupkis
From this morning's Bleat, a response to Andrew Sullivan's worrisome words: [...] Of course no one in the region wants Saddam deposed, for the obvious reasons - if he goes, the nation might go, fractured like hard toffee rapped with a hammer. If an elected regime replaces Saddam, it will make everyone else look like the autocrats, which of course they are. And it might provide a region-wide example of an alternative to foamy-mouthed religious fanaticism: democracy. The leaders of the Arab world fear this more than fundamentalism. Islamicist irrationalism is useful; democracy is not. Ranting mullahs channel the steam of the dispossessed, and gives it a handy target: those blood-sucking Jews and the whorish cabal of infidels in America. Sure, you may have no job, and live in a stinking flat made of crumbling concrete, but at least your government tolerates a certain amount of useful hate. A Bahrain prince put it succinctly: no one is dying in the streets because of Saddam, but Palestinians are dying in the street because of Israel. The Arab leaders don’t give a rotten fig for the Palestinians. It is rich to be lectured by the Kuwaitis on the matter, when the invasion of their country was endorsed by Arafat, and the Kuwaitis themselves expelled hundreds of thousands of Palestinians upon the liberation of their country. (And where did they go, exactly?) The Arab leaders don’t really care about the Iraqi people, either. They want stability, which means money and power. They want no public indication that self-determination is even a possibility. And it is an unfortunate thing, but Thomas Jefferson was right--"From time to time, the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants and patriots." Conflict is not something that gives a free people great joy. But it keeps us free. Monday, March 18, 2002
Plague Alert
Sorry, but no updates today. I am at home, sick, with all four kids, also sick. The stomach virus that got our youngest has now spread like, well, a stomach virus. I got mine yesterday as I was waiting on our middle daughter to get her soccer picture made at the elementary school. I was sitting on the steps and all of a sudden didn't feel too good. I stood up to go to the restroom inside and recreated one of those scenes from a Sylvester and Tweety cartoon where Sylvester gets seasick and hangs over the rail. Poor putty tat, he's all gween! Wouldn't have been so bad except for all the witnesses. After we got home, Little Boy started up and I got worse and worse. My wife took the girls to church, and afterwards went to the store for clear liquids and crackers. I had finally started to get better last night about 10:00 or so, and Boy was much better too. We went to bed and along about 2:00 this morning, our oldest started. Then, about 3:00, middle girl got it. Then about 4:00, youngest one started BACK up. My wife is the only one to not be hit yet, and has fled to work for refuge. So, this is it for me today. See you, hopefully, tomorrow.
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