Democrats: Party of Wimps

The reason I am a registered independent is because as much as I loathe the Republican Party for its arrogance, corruption, and incompetence, I equally loathe the Democrats for gutlessness. Just now I watched David Obey and Nancy Pelosi roll over and beg Chimpie not to beat them anymore. Disgusting.

The Democrats ought to be crucifying Bush and company for the catastrophe that they have created internationally and domestically, but instead they just grease their cheeks and grab their ankles--not because they have to, mind you, but only because its how they think an opposition fights.

Fuck you, Chimpie. And fuck you, Democratic Party. I hope you all burn in hell for all eternity.

The Last Thing Jerry Falwell Sees

Well, Mr. "Moral Majority"--I guess for you the debate is settled as to whether there is an afterlife.

Anne Coulter: Naked!

This explains a lot. I can't say that I'm surprised in the least, however.

Critical Moment in History Revisited and Revealed!

Was Olaf involved in the cover-up? How did Oliver Stone miss this one? To tell you the truth, I think I was only twelve years old at the time, so I'm as surprised as you at this newly discovered news photo from the Fort Worth Courier's archives. It's true that I had the goatee then--I was a bass clarinet student and idolized Eric Dolphy--but I don't remember being in Texas until some time later.

Of course, given the rash of alien abductions around here lately in the Southwest, particularly in the mountains (information about which is brutally suppressed), and the coincidental time and space displacements, anything is possible.

I've been given some mild scoldings about my failure to post in weeks, but I have to beg forgiveness for a couple of reasons. For one, I simply stand in awe at my own prowess at predicting the disasters that this administration would visit upon us, while simultaneously awed by the ability of these criminals to exceed even my worst imaginings. Looking back two years, I was then writing things that Mrs. Olaf and her family back East said were "too extreme" or at least "overstatements." I am now gratefully receiving the "You were right, we were wrong" admissions from that side of the clan, but it leaves only a taste of ash in my mouth. Watching the Republican "debate" tonight I am appalled to see that a whole new clutch of purveyors of stupidity and pandering is hoping to break the unprecedented Bush record of failure.

The second reason for not writing is that the urge to always include a photo or drawing has raised the bar for someone so visually uncreative as I, and frankly I just don't feel like lugging my camera around town. You see, it's an old Kodak digital unit, still quite capable but far too large and I just can't bring myself to spend $$$ on a new pocket-sized unit while this one still does the job. That's the trouble with being frugal and faithful to inanimate objects--a crippling neuroses to be sure.

Finally, my third excuse is that I have only a hazy memory of the last few weeks, and according to my sources, this in itself could be indication of alien abduction, particularly since I have vehemently denounced such claims as ridiculous fantasies of lonely souls or professional con artists. You see, my resistance to such ideas verifies them. Talk about your rhetorical fallacies!

But what if they're right? Is my DNA being spirited off to that other earthlike planet circling red dwarf sun Gliese 581? Do you realize that that would make me kind of a god there? Tres cool!

Anyway, I'll get my act together here in the next few days as I marshall my muses and furies to get back on that horse of vitriol and bombast.

So until the next posting--soon, soon, I promise--good night and sweet dreams.

A Small Fantasy

Oh, how I've come to love the music of Laura Veirs, even though Mrs. Olaf and I had to walk out of her performance at Tacheles in Berlin last August. You see, the club was about the size of your average living room, in what looked like a bombed-out cavern. There were so many people in the club that the temperature had risen 30 degrees above ambient, and yet even more people were coming in. We managed to grab a beer thanks to heroic mob plunging by yours truly, and then we stood for 45 minutes waiting for the opening act. More people surged in. The temperature got even higher. The only restroom lay on the far side of the space, and people were wedged up against the door. It was time for Laura Veirs.

Ms. Veirs and the Tortured Souls were late.

At last, after an hour and a half pressure cooking in that meat chamber, the band came on. Mrs. Olaf noted, "No fire suppression system in here." Did I mention that everyone, including us (out of self defense) was smoking? Although Mrs. Olaf is tall, she was squeezed in so tight that she could only catch glimpses of the stage. We were both drenched in sweat. More people squeezed in.

We lasted for two songs. I thought I would pass out. The air was blue and we were physically resisting attempts to reach the bar through us, until people were literally vaulting over the crowd to get a drink. I have never been in such a crush in my entire life. Somehow, through sheer determination, we pushed out through the mob and into the hallway, and thence into the cool summer evening.

"The 'Tortured Souls'?" Mrs. Olaf said. "How about the 'Tortured Audience'?"

And we both cracked up. We're just too old for that scene, and that's a shame because Ms. Veirs is a wonderful songwriter and a solid performer. It's just that this venue--compared to the previous evening when we'd sat in the Club b-flat, sipping single malt, beer chasers, and sitting within chatting distance of a fucking incredible quartet--was like a college exercise not unlike stuffing a Volkswagen that had been driven into a steam room.

But I still dig Laura Veirs, and someday, in my miserable fantasy existence, we're gigging together.

I still feel bad about leaving early. Sorry, Laura.

Happy Friday the 13th

Not a particularly auspicious day, I'd say. Good thing I've got a thick skull.

My Contribution to Global Warming

This is The Beast, which gets 14 mpg going uphill, downhill, loaded, empty, windward, leeward like some great constant of the Universe. Of course, it only gets driven two or three thousand miles per year, but I guess I've got some dues to pay. However, I have a question for the Bush administration whenever I fill the tank and it costs me $75.

How come gas isn't free, you assholes? I thought we were supposed to own the goddamned Middle East by now. And yet today a suicide bomber got into the Iraqi parliament in the Green Zone.

Meanwhile, Karl Rove seems to have misplaced his emails, and fellow boy genius architect of the Iraq War, Paul Wolfowitz, not satisfied with fucking up the military and relations with the rest of the world, aims to destroy even more of it through the World Bank.

In 231 years of U.S. history, I cannot find six consecutive years so filled with utter arrogance mixed thoroughly with absolute ignorance and expressed through total incompetence finely ground with dishonesty and corruption.

Mission accomplished.

When Is a Dick a Dick and not a Johnson?

One of my spies sent this in. I don't know the meaning of it, but it's worth a post.

Citroen Porn

Sorry about the hiatus, but I really haven't had much to say, partly because the insanity of the Bushits is so self-evident and partly because I've really not felt very witty or in the mood for biting, self-referential, bile-spewing rhetoric. Daisy (see previous post) was my editor-in-chief and primary muse--she was taciturn and quite economical with her comments, but when she voiced an opinion, it carried great weight. It's too, too quiet around here now.

So if you'll indulge me a little transitional period, I thought I'd share some of my favorite automobile pornography, which involves, naturally, Citroens. This little orange number struck me as a nearly perfect urban vehicle in terms of design. So far as I know, this model--the C3 Puriel--is not the greatest, mechanically speaking, and really, who needs a car in any city and country with good public transportation? Still, we're not likely to shift out of our American auto-addicted lifestyle soon, but using cute little bugs like this one could go a long way to cutting fuel use and restoring some fun to driving. And Dude, it's French.

No Friend More Loyal, None So Sweet Nor Kind

Daisy (1994-2007)

Rest in Peace

Hanging Chez Rotkohl

No peace, even at home. Sheesh.

A Tip for Ann Coulter

Inspired by Ann Coulter's remarks to applauding Republicans regarding John Edwards, I was going to write something about Ann Coulter, but I understand you have to go into rehab if you use the words "malignant cunt."

This sort of rhetorical trick is called praeteritio, in which you say something by saying you're not going to say it. For example, "Other people might call Ann Coulter a cancerous cadaverous cunt, but I wouldn't." Or, "I am not going to dignify those comments that Ann Coulter is a pus-filled running sore of a cunt."

See how it works? And Ann, you know you'd do a lot more good for the world if you'd work on your fellatio instead of your putrid praeteritio. God knows how your fellow fascistas could use some oral.

Walter Reed, Dick Cheney, and Scooter

The scandal at Walter Reed and in the care of veterans beyond inpatient status in the VA should not surprise anyone--it is yet another product of the utter incompetence of this administration. Given that Bush and Cheney both managed to avoid having to ever actually face these systems by evading their military obligations, it should come as no surprise that they are surprised to discover that the result of war is a long, long trail that far outlasts the memory of that war. My next-door neighbor had his spine severed in 1950 in the Korean War and has been wheelchair bound ever since. How many Americans even know there was a war on the Korean peninsula, or if they heard of it, how many could even give the dates for it? And yet John and veterans of that war and others who sacrificed life and limb and face the rest of their lives with injuries beyond most of our imaginations are our moral obligation for what we have asked of them.

Cheney had a blod clot today? He should have been put at the back of the VA queue for administration of his treatment, and that queue is currently a year deep. Bush had a growth on his face that needed removal and biopsy? Back of the queue, Jack. Congressman Shithead needs a rectal? End of the line until every fucking vet's case has been seen to first.

Unrealistic? Well, ask those vets with grave injuries who've waited as long as a year to receive their disability status, never mind payment.

Oh yeah--Scooter is guilty of felonies four time over. Time to flip on Cheney, Dude. He ain't worth one second of jail time. Think of your family, not to mention how happy we'd be to see Dickfuck sent up the river.

ITMFA

Both of 'em. Now.

Olaf's Workshop...and I'm Going Mad, I Fear

Let me get this straight--the Bush administration is funding Sunni and al Qaeda elements to reduce Shiite influence? Al Qaeda? If Seymour Hersh is right, this is the equivalent of the Iran-Contra affair combined with Watergate, only worse. Funneling money to the group responsible for 9/11? Jesus H. Christ--even I haven't been accused of anything that sick.

What the fuck is going on? And now Condi "Maximum Incompetence" Rice thinks Saddam was the equal of Hitler and that this fiasco in Iraq bears any resemblance to World War II?

Why isn't there a march on Washington?

Oh, the picture is of my bunker cum workshop where I hunker in the fetal position most days, glancing only briefly at my monitor to prevent head explosions. Just thought you'd like to picture me in my underground lair. I relocated here trying to cheer myself up after Chimpie's reelection, but it didn't do any good. He and his limitlessly incompetent and evil minions are still there. Maybe I'll go back to lining my cap with aluminum foil.

The vise and grinder are more useful than you can imagine. I've also got electrodes with nipple clamps, a bandsaw, a pre-1962 deep-fat fryer, and over two hundred pounds of reconstitutable chicken fat. Next project--periscope. If you've got any info on a WWII-vintage U-boat type, drop me a line. I'm also trying to get a good deal on bulk latex.

Not Worth the Mud Clogged in Harry's Boots

Unlike one "head of state" and his deranged veep who weasled their way through their military obligations when other young men and women were dying in the jungles of Vietnam in their stead, young Prince Harry understands the meaning of duty, comradeship, and leadership. Even as the British are winding down their involvement in this fiasco, this royal son will not shirk the service that no one would blame him for avoiding at this point. And one thing is for sure--Harry won't be stuffing socks into his crotch while playing dress-up warrior.

My hat's off to you son. Stay safe. Our "commander in chief" isn't fit to carry your dirty socks.

Why Politicians and Talking Heads in D.C. Are Very Nervous

I'll confess to an admittedly neurotic fear of clowns, which is not an uncommon malady. But south of the border, someone with an acute and more aggressive form of the same affliction has decided to do something about it. Since this story broke, many TV talking heads and a large number of politicos are strapping on body armor and cutting back on the makeup lest they be mistaken for Chucko, Bozo, or Slappy. Of course, every time one of them opens his or her mouth, the difference will still be hard to make clear to the gun-toting clown haters out there.

Definition of Idiocy

I have nothing to add to this Q & A at today's White House daily briefing with Tony Snowjob.

Q But this estimate was monumentally wrong. So would the President, knowing what he knows today, still have decided to go into Iraq?

MR. SNOW: Yes. The President believes that we did the right thing in going into Iraq.
...

Q Is the President being equally unrealistic about his current assessments of Iraq and Afghanistan?

MR. SNOW: No.

You can read the rest here. Delusions, madness, disaster. And still the Dems fear to act to stop this idiot and his criminal gang. I want to puke on the whole sorry lot of bastards in Washington.

White House Shocker!

It's true. Jenna digs Olaf. And her pappy is not happy. No, not because of what Olaf writes (do you honestly think Bush can navigate the web?). It's because he has one of "them furrin' names."

Who could blame her though? Olaf in a dinner jacket? Even Daniel Craig has to take a back seat to such a fine model dressed to the nines.

Of course, it could be the hat.

Olaf the Trendsetter

My god, I hope this isn't true, but it does point up that your pal Olaf knows where the next big cool is going to be. Brangelina may be moving to Berlin. As you know, Berlin is my favorite city on earth, and in my renewed lover affair with the place, I was especially pleased that it never seemed to show up on people's vacation or must-move-to list. My escape plans include several for the formerly divided city, particularly because it's relatively cheap to live there but mainly because I feel more at home there than almost any other urban setting, despite coming off as a rather stupid person when speaking my limited German. And stupidity, as Paul Westerberg sang, I call it freedom. There is something transcendentally liberating about being a foreigner.

But if this is indeed true, and Brad and Angelina are setting up house in Mitte, then once again I've loved and lost by failing to act on the attraction, much like all those lovely women whom I have loved but denied such knowledge to. Yes, I'm just a giant breaking heart, and now my beloved Berlin may be compromised by the attentions of these pretenders with the dough to buy giant flats in the heart of my city..

But I know something they don't--one Berlin winter and they'll be quits. Only the most depressed survive those, and I made it through four of them standing on my head. These days, I could survive a nuclear winter.

Recentering...

"The Only Band that Matters"

I've been listening a lot to these guys. I'd like to be in a tribute band to them, y'know? Even at my advanced age, I still like to crank it up and blow it out, and there is nothing like this when PLAYED LOUD!

So, dear friends, can you name the band? (It's right before your eyes, really.)

It's Not the Money That Bothers Me Most...

It's all those small brown paper bags it was handed out in. No wonder I had to start carrying my sandwich in my briefcase.

But seriously, what's a mere $12 billion bucks mislaid here or there when we're spending over $2.25 billion a week just to destroy our own country's reputation, economy, and moral authority? All you green eyeshade-types need to pry your fingers loose from your adding machines at look at the positive side of this: Chimpie's taking the money from those lousy poor and elderly. What better way to use it than to spend it blowing shit up and repealing the Bill of Rights?

There. Don't you feel better now?

Not Seventy-two Virgins, and not Eternal Cloud Lounging...

But it wouldn't be bad if heaven turned out like this.

He's Lucky Nobody Punched Him in the Face

This didn't make me laugh because it took over 3000 American lives to reach the middle of America, but Bush ought to be getting a good feel for what "his people" think of him and his incompetent, corrupt regime. Never mind the rest of us. Of a Bush "surprise" visit to a diner in Illinois this week, we have the following:

In Peoria this week, many patrons found their pancakes more interesting. Except for the click of news cameras and the clang of a dish from the kitchen, the quiet was deafening.

“Sorry to interrupt you,” Bush said to a group of women, who were sitting in a booth with their young kids. “How’s the service?” As Bush signed a few autographs and shook hands, a man sitting at the counter lit a cigarette and asked for more coffee. Another woman, eyeing Bush and his entourage, sighed heavily and went back to her paper. She was reading the obituaries. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast,” a White House aide told her. “No problem,” she huffed, in a not-so-friendly way. “Life goes on, I guess.”

What if the cameras and secret service hadn't been around? Do you think anything has penetrated that thick skull yet? Maybe impeachment isn't so far away after all, if even in Peoria--Peoria!--it's all anyone can do to simply feign politeness.

Toast, toastie, toasted.

Please, Somebody, Save Me from Myself!

I've always had a touch of madness, but none so worrisome as my fetish for certain things French, and the main one among them (gasp!) is the Citroen DS automobile model made in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. Last summer in Berlin I came face-to-face with a few, and to say that my heart nearly burst for the beauty and absolute unattainability of these gorgeous beasts is an understatement. I did indeed grow faint at one point and had to sit on a kerb simply drinking in the incredible lines of the sheet metal arcing like a haughty Gaelic sneer from bumper to bumper.

Then I saw one on my home streets last week. And now I find that there are some real Citroen nuts not so far away in California, and a whole subculture of Citroen freaks.

What am I to do? Please, please, please help me!

Measuring Madness by the Calendar

This picture was taken by Olaf on Saturday, January 23, 2003, in San Francisco, at the protest against war in Iraq before the invasion. That was now over four years ago.

And how long has it taken the naysayers, Dems and Repubs alike, to even begin to come around to see that we were right? How many dollars wasted? How many lives destroyed? Yet still they hesitate lest their political ambitions be thwarted.

The people must lead, or they will be cast into the cauldron by those who have the arrogance to take their lead from them through ignorance, fear, and suppression of reason.

Immortal Olaf? Well, Probably Not.

Oh, if only this were a fact of the landscape. Think how quickly the regime would shape up if confronted with thousands of these images in every city in the nation. One cannot help but wonder, what is the power of Olaf?

I hope someone sees the self-referential irony in this graffito-neato. Ain't I postmodern?

This Is How the Finger Actually Works

This individual happens to be protesting the ongoing ban on imports from Cuba, chiefly those lovely Cohiba cigars. Note that he holds icons representing the embargo in the frame with his squinty-eyed visage: the cigar burns slowly and deliciously and the ring is held pinched between his fingers asserting the origin and authenticity of the smoke. His right hand forms a proper "finger" in which the knuckles should frame the finger much like the carriage frames the barrel of a cannon. I'm really quite taken with the compositional balance of this photograph. It forms two triangles, yet puts the essential elements all along a single horizontal. The wristwatch pulls the eye across the action of the picture and the perfect head-on angle to a less-than-perfect face gives it a certain almost Gaellic disdain, despite that the model has not a drop of French blood running through him.

Oh, and if the customs people are thinking about pursuing this guy, the cigar was purchased and consumed legally in another country. And every puff was like a big "fuck you" to the Bush-Cheney cabal...or at least it felt that way. Please compare the weak method used by El Presidente (below) compared to the muscular mode of giving the finger employed by our cigar lover.

Ah, the small pleasures are what makes life worth living.

The Man with his Finger on the Button

Hey, American people! Fuck you! Ah'm goin' into Iran.

Veep Cheney may be still controlling the language and the policy of this deranged regime, but Junior still controls the magic finger, and that finger (No. That finger.) is only one secret service agent away from nuking his enemies, among whom a lot of us are now counted by virtue of our failure to worship his divinity. But Cheney's madness is articulate enough to continue to fool the 30 percent out there who still think Georgie is a terrific president. Here's an example:

Obviously, there was flawed intelligence prior to the war ... but we should not let the fact of past problems in that area lead us to ignore the threat we face today and in the future.

This sounds like a good argument, right? Of course, it's completely false reasoning, because NO ONE is suggesting we ignore the threats we face. I believe the rhetoricians call this the "straw man" fallacy. Note also that he's still blaming the intelligence--"there was flawed intelligence"--without acknowledging the filtering role he and his minions played in assuring that no contrary evidence to their predetermined plans to invade Iraq got traction in the White House. And let's not forget the unrelenting incompetence of their performance of the invasion, whether supported or not by intelligenge: no plan for occupation, no plan for establishment of civil authority, and no desire to think about anything except Chimpie in a crotch-enhanced flight suit in his ultimate dress-up fetish moment.

We've now reached the point where polls reveal that 58 percent of Americans just wish that the Bush regime was over. Well, wishing doesn't make it so. The criminality this cabal has committed is sufficient material to impeach, remove from office, indict, try, convict, and imprison them for the rest of their natural lives, after which time they will be handed over to Satan to be roasted and boiled alive throughout all eternity, but that is beyond the court's jurisdiction. I'll settle for impeachment and removal from power. Let the historians take care of the rest, or the court at the Hague.

This Is Your Brain. This Is Your Brain on Freud.

I love the smell of anxiety in the morning! Smells like...victory!

Media Crash

Ha! Big surprise--this administration considers Tim Russert as their boy, which was pretty obvious every time he had one of their number of his NBC-based "Press the Meat" television ass-kissing venue. Under the guise of "hard-hitting" journalist, I can concede Russert asks tough questions. But he falls down in the follow-up nearly every time, as if incapable of anticipating a lie and then challenging effectively. So he has Dick Cheney on, for example, poses what seems a pointed, grilling question, and then, when Cheney out-and-out lies, Russert simply goes on to the next topic rather than saying, "Say what, motherfucker? Don't bullshit me, bald man."

Liberal media, my ass. One of the reasons we're in such a state with regard to Iraq, not to mention just about every other arena, is that the press did not do their job. They should always be challenging the statements of people in power, forcing them to produce the evidence and the reasoning they are using upon it. Instead of being a counterweight to power, they acted as a megaphone for it, and had we not had the alternative media power of the Internet, I shudder to think of how much worse it might have been.

To give the mainstream media their due, it is true that their resources and skills uncover most of the news. They have the means, the money, the expertise, and there are some damned good journalists out there, but the media as a whole has become so beholden to economic interests on the one hand, and the "inside the beltway" press has become so interwoven with the power brokers on the other, that they are now of the same class, with the same interests, and with the same disregard for the general citizenry.

And I wish they would lay off Lindsay Lohan, for chrissakes. Jeez--let the young woman get her shit together. I think she's wonderfully talented. Yes, I do have a weakness for redheads. Is that a crime?

Um, ahem. Sorry. What I mean is that all this obsession for celebrity misdoings just sucks the energy away from stuff that really matters to people's actual lives. Who gives a fuck if two obnoxious media whores like Donald Trump and Rosie O'Donnell are having a bitch-slapping contest? Actually, that piece by Andy Borowitz is pretty damned funny.

The ongoing feud between Rosie O'Donnell and Donald Trump could have deadly consequences for the world if either obtained nuclear weapons, a group of leading nuclear scientists announced today.

The Chicago-based Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, founded in 1945 as a publication by nuclear physicists worried about the possibility of nuclear war, expressed their concern about the Rosie-Trump brouhaha by moving the Doomsday Clock forward to three minutes to midnight.

It's Friday. What can I tell you?

YOU Will Live Blog SoTU!

I'm going to the movies with our neighbor (Children of Men, with movie popcorn for dinner). I sat through Chimpie's "surge" speech on Iraq, and if you expect me to remain even marginally civil, I can't do it again so soon. Have a little mercy, for heaven's sake.

So here's my proposal--you all live blog through the comments function on this post and get me up to date when I get back from the movie.

Otherwise, the next post after this photo will be of MY head exploding.

Not that that would have a deleterious effect on my thinking, of course.

Oh, and if you need a warm-up or a replacement SoTU, watch this. It will make your head explode, it's so goddamned funny. And the Dems response is even funnier.

Two of These Are Not Olaf

Can you figure out who's who? Vote now! You could be the big winner and get to watch the SoTU with one of these dudes!

Feel the Excitement? It's Almost Magic Time!

Oh, I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to pop knowing that Fearless Leader is about to address the nation on the State of the Union. I can't wait to hear the major leaps we've made toward detoxing from last year's declaration of our addiction to oil and our continuing escalation of success in Iraq. I'll be leaping to my feet as we learn about the great plans for universal health care and the rebirth of New Orleans as the major vacation spot in America. We'll learn of our other victories in the War on Drugs, the War on Poverty, War on Terror, and the War on Christmas. It's going to be such a glorious speech--I can just feel it. We'll once again know the true meaning of "compassionate conservatism" from the man who not only is "a uniter, not a divider," but also a "decider" who knows the meaning of "working hard for the American people" and who really knows when to surge, when to declare mission accomplished and when to admit his mistakes and correct his course, always with only our interests first and foremost in his thoughts and prayers.

And I think they're going to catch that Osama guy tonight, or so my sources tell me, because with Saddam dead we don't want to forget why we went into Iraq. Oh, wait...Osama's in Afghanistan or Pakistan, isn't he? Well, close enough.

The truly priceless thing will be to see Nancy Pelosi and Dick Cheney seated side by side in the spirit of true bipartisan love. And while Fearless (for other people's children) Leader runs through his litany of success, we'll get to watch the firm-handed opposition party jump to applaud his every declaration. It's exhilirating to be living in a democracy with such responsiveness to the will of the people.

I'll be popping popcorn and icing down the Pilsner Urquell. Come join me in our national celebration of truth, justice, and the American way!

As If He Wasn't Feeling Low Enough...

Poor, poor Chimpie. Not only does he have to suffer further party defections, the loss of the legislature, and an even more ignominious legacy than even the worst of us could have wished on him, now he has to suffer the greenness of extreme wannabe tyrant envy.

Venezuela's National Assembly has given initial approval to a bill granting President Hugo Chavez the power to rule by decree for 18 months.

And Chavez is a guy who we happily waved goodbye to within twenty-four hours of an unsuccessful coup to topple him, but he's certainly gotten the last laugh. Bush can only dream about ruling like a monarch, but Chavez is going to get to live that dream.

Mr Chavez said he wants to approve "revolutionary laws" to enact sweeping political, economic and social changes.

So did Bush, like shredding the Bill of Rights, waging eternal war, and looting the national treasury for the benefit of Uncle Dick's friends. There was just one little advantage that Chavez has over him.

Mr Chavez began his third term in office last week after a landslide election victory in December.

Even if Chimpie could run for a third term, a 29 percent favorable rating in the polls does not bode well for a Chavez-style victory. And as much as I've badmouthed the Democrats for spinelessness, at least they show up now and then.

Venezuela's political opposition has no representation in the National Assembly since it boycotted elections in 2005.

Yeah, instead of vilifying Chavez and supporting his ouster, it might have been better to buddy up to him and learn his secrets of success. Ah well, Bush has always managed to cultivate failure and defeat, even when the odds were totally in his favor. And there's the difference. Chavez is a winner. Bush is a loser.

And that's no endorsement for Chavez, but I must say he knows how to be a populist and he knows how to play his game. Let's hope he meets our best expectations for the people of Venezuela and the developing nations.

Tony Snow, Master of Rhetoric

Can you guess who's been hitting his notes from Introduction to English Composition?

"What message does Congress intend to give?" asked White House spokesman Tony Snow. "And who does it think the audience is? Is the audience merely the president? Is it the voting American public or, in an age of instant communication, is it also al-Qaida?"

Next, Mr. Snow asked, "And who's the author? What's the purpose?"

Answers: Iraq is a debacle, Chimpie, the American people via the last election, and to inform El Presidente that he is the biggest fuck-up in presidential history.

Oh, and Tony, a bit of advice: as a rhetorical strategy, associating defecting Republican legislators with al-Qaida sympathizers is a loser. It didn't work on the Democrats last year, so I'd like to know who your audience is: Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck? That's about all who you've got besides Laura and Barney. Saying you're either with us or with the enemy is, um, a false dichotomy. You could look it up.

More Mission Accomplished

You have to hand it to this administration--even I could not have predicted that rivers of shit would one day run through Baghdad.

Dr Abdul-Rahman Adil Ali of the Baghdad Health Directorate warned of the dire consequences of a non-operational sewage system.

"As the sewage system has collapsed, all residents are threatened with gastroenteritis, typhoid fever, cholera, diarrhoea and hepatitis. In some of Baghdad's poor neighbourhoods, people drink water which is mixed with sewage," Ali said.

But wait, as they say on the commercial, there's more! Four more Americans were slaughtered for Chimpie's vanity, along with at least another sixty-five Iraqis in Baghdad near a university. But have no fear. Dr. Condoleezza "Pinnacle of Competence" Rice is on the case! Here's part of her remarkable strategy:

In Saudi Arabia, Rice thanked her hosts for their past help in urging national reconciliation in Iraq, but did not press specific new requests for the predominantly Sunni kingdom's help.

After all, Saudi Arabia is Sunni, has lots of oil, and is allegedly our ally in the region (nevermind not a democracy), so why would Rice pressure them to help calm a Sunni vs Shiite bloodbath right next door? I tell you, her strategy is so fucking brilliant, I can't even figure it out. I mean, it's completely counterintuitive, and that's the genius of it. Just like the genius of everything to do with Iraq war.

I sure am glad we have these supersmart people who can interpret for us. Escalation is "augmentation." Failure is "success that hasn't happened yet." Rising violence in Afghanistan is a sign of sure victory. "Stay the course" means change the course, but of course, we never said "stay the course." And naturally, "we do not torture" means...well, if you're declared an enemy combatant, I'd say you'd better learn to hold your breath for a really, really long time.

Foucault, I can understand. The Chimperor administration? They're too damned smart for me.

Do I Get to Say, "I Told You So"?

You might accuse me of picking on Condi Rice for being an incompetent in every government job she's ever held, so let's just stick to recent history--her tenure as Secretary of State. Well, folks, even Robert "I finked out a CIA agent" Novak is reporting that Republicans line up on this issue with Olaf.

Republicans in Congress, who do not want to be quoted, tell me the State Department under Secretary Condoleezza Rice is a mess.

Rice leading the State Department into disaster was easily predictable given her previous tenure as national security advisor ("No one could have predicted...", etc.), but the persistence with which she has been promoted and applauded by the administration, the Republicans, and still by elements in the mainstream media who are terrified of challenging her for reasons that totally escape me, have enabled her to become a one-woman diplomatic wrecking machine. This, according to Novak, is why John "Honduran Death Squad" Negroponte was pressured to give up his intelligence czar job to become Rice's number two at State--he's supposed to bail her out so she can be reassigned to bring failure to some new arena.

I've got a suggestion--make her chair of the Republican National Campaign Committee for 2008.

Final thought--I wonder if Rice's failure at diplomatic duties is one reason that the administration decided on an escalation of military force. There may have been no alternative because she could not get a foot in the door with essential players in the region.

Not to Belabor the Point, But More Clear Evidence of Sociopathy

Now maybe Chimpie is not a sociopath, but actually a psychopath. I dunno--Wikipedia explained it to me thus:

The difference between sociopathy and psychopathy, according to Hare, may "reflect the users views on the origins and determinates of the disorder."Most sociologists, criminologists, and even some psychologists believe the disorder is caused by social conflicts, and thus prefer the term 'sociopath.' Those who believe as Hare does, that a combination of psychological, biological and genetic factors all contribute to the disorder are more likely to use the term 'psychopath'.

In either case, here is Bush's expression of responsibility.

"Where mistakes have been made, the responsibility rests with me," Bush said.

Note the passive construction in "mistakes have been made," and the corresponding avoidance of active responsibility in that it "rests with me." He simply is incapable, essentially physically and mentally incapable, of saying "I have failed." If he did, it would result in something I would love to see just once in my life: exploding head syndrome. I watch people yakking into their cell phones hoping that sooner or later one will detonate, but chances were better when the first Iridium satellite phones came out. That antenna looks like a stick of dynamite. Considering the power requirements for sending a signal skyward, direct to a satellite, eventually I'd expect a few splatter events.

But I digress. Mark Crispin Miller opined in his 2002 book that Bush's malapropisms and seeming paralysis with the English language was actually a manifestation of his sociopathic inability to admit error or blame. But because his name is Bush and not Rotkohl, rather than intervention and counseling, or at least detainment, he gets to express his sociopathy through the instrument of the presidency, and the blood and treasure he wastes on his illness is always someone else's, just like the blame.

War is not a therapeutic remedy. The only question seems to be, is Bush's behavior criminal or insane?

Live Blogging El Presidente's Hail Mary Pass

• What's the realistic sick joke here?
• Note the blue tie--a sop to Democrats?
• Who designed this backdrop? Some dickey-doo on the left edge of the screen looks like part of a hookah. Note the primary red theme in the bookshelves--sets off the dark suit.
• "The consequences of failure are clear." You're right, Chimpie. We see them every day, because failure has been occuring for quite a while now.
• Define "success." He talks as if only Baghdad matters. Is his plan to secure the city and cede the country?
• Oh, Christ--he wants to 'splain things to us.
• 18 Iraqi brigades plus local police patrolling Baghdad. Yes, there is definitely a positive precedent in the past 18 months.
• More than 20,000 Americans to be deployed, of which five brigades will embed with Iraqi units. There's something to look forward to.
  
• Why will this operation succeed? Because the "killers" realized that all they had to do was flow back into cleared areas. Does no one remember Vietnam?
• Ooooooh--a threat. Our commitment is not open-ended. "Now is the time to act." What we've just been fucking off for the last nearly four years?
• "...our television screens filled with death and murder." Hmmmm, why is that, I wonder?
• "...visible improvements to Iraqi neighborhoods." What the fuck was Halliburton, Brown and Root, Bechtel, et al doing all this time? Where's the money, dude?
• Speed the transition? Starting from what time?
• There, he admitted it--Iraq is on its way to becoming a base from which attacks on the U.S can be launched.
• 4000 military personnel for Anbar province. That should be pretty easy. It's only as big as North Carolina--roughly 53,000 square miles--and holds 1.4 million people. So that's, um, one additional GI per 13 sq. miles. That should settle the place down.
  
• Oh goody! Condi Rice is heading for Iraq on Friday. She's so competent...well, except for ignoring the "Bin Laden Determined to Attack U.S." PDB, and admitting to never imagining someone using planes to attack buildings, and failing to show any progress anywhere on the diplomatic front in the Middle East. Yeah, she's perfect.
• The insurgents are without conscience? What about a sociopathic president who cannot say, "I screwed up"?
• Victory won't look like what our fathers experienced? I get it--we redefine victory to resemble Iraq as it is today. Hooray! We won!
• A withdrawal would cause mass deaths on an unimaginable scale? Yeah, the scale so far was expected, right?
• Oh, so now it's the Democrats who are failing to provide a solution. And he praises Lieberman, big surprise. God, how Joe must feel like he mistook an anchor for a life preserver when he tied his wagon to Bush's star. It's fun watching Joe-mentum slow into reverse.
• "...worthy of their sacrifice." How dare this AWOL jerkoff tell us about "sacrifice."
  
• What a fucking worthless 20 minutes. Now for screaming head analysis which will yield exactly zero light--more of my life down the drain. Only Olbermann has anything thoughtful to offer. Matthews makes me puke--I think of how lavishly and shamelessly he used to praise Bush. Some analyst.
• I gotta go throw up.

My Dream for Tomorrow Night

Tomorrow, of course, is when El Bushito will unveil his "surge and accelerate" plan, this being a Rovism for "blame someone else," or a clumsy translation for "decent interval," which was war criminal Kissinger's immortal contribution to egocentric ass-covering.

My dream is that near and far, from the rural open spaces and the urban crush, from the north and south, from the red states and from the blue states, a swelling mass of Americans take to the streets. I think of Yugoslavia in 2000, when the population of Serbs "surged and accelerated" into the streets of Belgrade to demand that another war criminal of the 20th century, Slobodan Milosevic, get out of the presidential palace, and yield to the demonstrated will of the people, who had elected Vojislav Kostunica to replace him. Milosevic was at the point of ordering the army to shoot his countrymen in order to retain power.

"Gotov je!" the thousands shouted in the streets in Serb0-Croatian. "He's finished!"

The army sided with the people. Milosevic was out.

Now we confront an American president with a very recent Gallup poll putting his handling of Iraq at 26 percent. He faces objection to his plan by 30 percent of his own party, and 85 percent of the opposition. He has demonstrated that he will lie, that he cares little for the Constitution, and that he believes himself to possess an imperial right to strip citizens of their rights to privacy, to illegal search and seizure, to even deny their citizenship, and that he believes he has the power to subject them to torture on his orders.

Imagine if, during his speech, there was heard in the background a low and distant hum. Slowly it would begin to increase and gain a rhythm. It would start to thrum against the walls of the White House, and crystal in the dining room would begin to tinkle as though an earthquake was commencing from deep beneath the earth's crust. Soon, even the directional microphones pointed at Bush could not filter out the now-deafening shouts of tens of thousands of people jamming the streets outside.

"He's finished! Get out! You're finished! Get out!"

That is my dream.

Trivia Quick Quiz

Question: What do Joey Buttafuoco and Lynne Cheney have in common?

Answer: They both had sex with people who shot someone in the face.

Take cover, folks. Dickie's on the hunt again, this time in Pennsylvania.

New! Olaf Goes Visual!

I stumbled upon some pictures from a trip to Prague two summers ago, and that made me think of my digital camera, which I ought to carry more often to document items and people of interest that might support, detract, or render irrelevant the text that I erratically bonk out here at Olaf World HQ. Actually, I do occasionally stumble on some worthwhile images and why not share them with Olaf's massive readership (I'm hopeful, I'm hopeful)? Given the unimaginably high standard of literary intelligence that you all have exhibited, why not cleanse the intellectual palette with a few snaps now and then?

So here is a Czech take on our illustrious El Presidente for your delectation and dissection. Funny how much I've come to love good graffiti, in spite of all the lame shit that litters the urban, suburban, and (worst) rural landscape.

More to come.

You All Know Some Guy Like Him

Bush's pathology is nothing complicated.

He's simply the dumb guy who truly believes he is smarter than everybody else.

Why else would he insist on forcing through his "New Way Forward" in Iraq against the will of Congress, many of his own military commanders, and even members of his own party? Of course, behind Bush, we have to remind ourselves, is Karl Rove. He hasn't gone anywhere, except underground, but you can be sure he's cheerleading Chimpie into thinking that he's just so much more of a visionary than anyone can give him credit for (excepting a few diehard bootlickers), that he can interpret all opposition as coming from people too unenlightened to realize his uncanny genius.

Except that his genius lies in his ability to fuck up not just anything, but everything. Because, in the back of that withered seed of his brain, Chimpie is enough of a sociopath to want to take the whole country down with him if it won't recognize his genius. He's now in the extreme end of the Bunker Mentality, and thus he is now at his most dangerous. This final stage will be marked by a Bush accusation that the nation is too weak-willed to join him on the route to paradise, and so he will have to make them pay for their betrayal.

As a sociopath, he cannot admit error, cannot admit failure, cannot assume any point of view other than his own. He's the guy in the company who's out of step and, like Lou Costello in Abbott and Costello in the Foreign Legion, claims it's the other 199 guys who are out of step with him. The trouble is that this time it's not funny.

I could be wrong, of course. Bush could just be a guy so dumb that no one can explain to him how dumb he is.

Especially those 59 million suckers who voted for him again in 2004. Yeah, now who is dumb?

Give the Army Points for Thinking Outside the Box

As Chimpie hints at a "surge and accelerate" strategy of sending perhaps 20,000 more US military personnel into Iraq, people like General Barry MacCaffery have been asking where the hell they're going to find more combat-trained GIs when the ones we have are already pulling multiple tours. Hell, he even has mentioned that non-combat-trained sailors and airmen (and that means non-combat-trained weenies like yours truly--see A Christmas Story for my terrifying war experience) are being sent on search-and-destroy patrols, which shows that the military is already stretched to its limits.

“You’ve got a foreign policy, a national security policy in Washington and they’re not resourced to carry it out,” said McCaffrey, who called for an increase of 80,000 soldiers and 25,000 Marines in each service. “The country is not at war. The United States armed forces and the CIA are at war. So we are asking our military to sustain a level of effort that we have not resourced,” he told Army Times.

“That’s how to break the Army is to keep it deployed above the rate at which it can be sustained,” he said. “There’s no free lunch here. The Army and the Marine Corps and Special Operations Command are too small and badly resourced to carry out this national security strategy.”

But the Army has hit upon an idea that I believe is a first in military history: encourage dead soldiers to return to service.

Just wait until Chimpie gets wind of this. "Yeah, that's it. A zombie army! Don't you have to shoot 'em in the head to stop 'em? Yeah, that's it! I saw that in Night of the Living Dead at the frat house. Yeah. A zombie army! Get Bob Gates in here pronto. I gotta tell him about this!"

Going Down Like Pacino in Scarface

Rent, borrow, or buy Brian De Palma's Scarface (1983). Fast forward (or select the scene, if you have DVD) to the point where Pacino says, "Say hello to my little friend." Past Chimpie's face over Pacino's.

Is that how they'll have to get this idiot out of the White House?

Actually, you need only fast forward as far Pacino's face coming up out of the mountain of cocaine on his desk, powder encrusted on this nostrils. Is that what's going on in there in the WH? Is this just coke-addled craziness and obstinancy?

I just had to post this--I keep seeing that scene in my head every time I hear anything about the war or civil liberties. We've got a madman trying desperately to hold power. He has no respect for the law or the country or its people. Clinically speaking, it's a case of malignant narcissism.

And it's going to be ugly.

Proof of Delusion, part Deux

Chimpie is further out of touch with reality than even I, Olaf, could imagine. He now claims the right to open your mail without a court order, doing so even after the new House and Senate were elected, as if just daring them to impeach his dumb ass.

And by gum, they'd better do it now, or we are going to see a constitutional crisis beyond any in our history. This is a man who is either totally living in a fantasy world in which he gets to play dictator, or he is so bent on retaining power that he will stop at nothing--not even the destruction of his daddy's reputation (not much, I'll agree)--including a suspension of the Bill of Rights.

I don't give a fuck for bipartisanship or the Dems or any of them in the Congress at all if they don't realize now that they have a duty to pry this maniac out of office, indict him for war crimes, and let justice prevail.

Proof of Delusion

Does Olaf have good timing or what (referring to last night's post)? On the news this morning,

Evangelical broadcaster Pat Robertson said Tuesday that God has told him that a terrorist attack on the United States would cause a "mass killing" late in 2007.

It's bad enough that allegedly "serious" news outlets like the AP and CNN give this idiot coverage, but they try to justify it in the following chickenshit way:

Robertson said God told him about the impending tragedy during a recent prayer retreat.

God also said, he claims, that major cities and possibly millions of people will be affected by the attack, which should take place sometime after September.

Note that they slip in "he claims" as though that rationalizes reporting the ravings of a lunatic. So let's apply a little trick that Sam Harris, author of The End of Faith and Letter to a Christian Nation suggests--insert the words "through his electric toothbrush" after "God said" or other similar utterances. Does that make it sound nutty? Then why does someone claiming that God speaks to him not sound nutty just because he doesn't specify the medium, particularly when God is allegedly speaking in particular dates, places, and numbers, as Robertson babbles.

I mean, if the AP and CNN want to quote Robertson, would it violate journalistic objectivity to refer to him as a religious fantasist (which is charitable at best) or ranting crazy fucker you'd best avoid?

I guess that's why I never made it as a journalist.

Do You Wonder How Bush Has Any Support? Here's One Reason.

First, please go and read Cenk Uygur's article on Smirking Chimp. I did, and so was inspired to visit our pals over at Rapture Ready to see where the old rapture index was pegged to, and damned if it isn't at a five-year high! At 163 it is now eighteen points above the "Fasten Your Seatbelts" trigger of 145, which while still nowhere near the all-time high of 182 might inspire that 25% who are predicting Jesus' return to earth this calender year.

Is anyone taking bets on this? Any gamblers out there? What are the odds in Vegas?

I'm sure most people have forgotten the Heaven's Gate cult, which committed collective suicide in preparation for an alien ship arriving in the shadow of the comet Hale-Bopp in 1997. Of course, they were nuts, right? The Rapture is different than their beliefs, right? It's based in undeniable truth recorded in a book with, yes, doubtful authorships and, okay, as interpreted by certain interpretations of said book by a smattering of Christian sects, but it would be heretical for me to equate such belief with that of a "UFO religion," right?

So what are the odds on Jesus' return this year? And does anyone know what the odds were on the Hale Bopp shadow ship coming down to scoop up Marshall Applewhite and friends? And if you think that Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, and James Dobson are real men of faith, keep in mind that Applewhite had his own nuts cut off as proof of his sincerity. Any rapture-predicters out there planning on similar dedications of earthly flesh?

Sorry about all the rhetorical questions. I'm just trying to help keep the debate open, that's all.

So who are those remaining deadenders who think Chimpie is doing a terrific job?

I think I have some idea.

The Little Creep

So Chimpie can now say to Bush Sr., "Nyah! Nyah! Nyah! I got Saddam and you didn't."

His Oedipal dream is finally realized. Now he gets to fuck Mommy.

The price? 3000 American lives, a few hundred thousand Iraqis, some Brits, Latvians, Poles, Italians...

I'm going to go vomit for a while.

New Year's Eve--No Resolutions

This next year has got to be an improvement over 2006, unless the melting ice shelf phenomenon accelerates and we see an increase in sea level of twenty or thirty feet, which is going to really suck for New Orleans and Bangladesh, among other locations. Glad I'm at 7000 feet.

We enter 2007 with one less malignant narcissist now that Saddam has had his neck snapped, but I would really like to see 2007 designated as The Year of the Eradication of War Criminals. You can name your own favorite candidates. Mine is Henry Kissinger, closely followed by the members of a certain cabal who have been consulting with Kriminal Kissinger during this last year. You must be aware of those names by now if you are even an irregular reader.

In general, I would predict more violence in Iraq (a slam-dunk prediction, as George Tenet might have said, but this one truly is a slam dunk), more idiocy in public policy from the executive branch, more lily-livered cowardice from the Democratically controlled Congress, more concentration of wealth. The good news is that secular sensible Americans are going to be making their voices louder--we will see the demise of the influence of the religious right, who will be collared together with Islamic fanatics who also seek fantasy-dwellers as leaders and fairy tailes as truth. God won't be declared dead, but he will return to private, closeted worship, as harmless as any other superstitious practices like tossing salt over one's shoulder after knocking over the shaker. (Yes, I still do this. But I don't cry heresy and eternal damnation against anyone who doesn't--those persons will see soon enough why it's bad luck to fail in this minor action. Don't believe me? Knock over the salt shaker at lunch and just walk away. Make me your beneficiary first.)

More specifically, I think Fidel Castro will still be around this time next year and until at least January 20, 2009, so that he can claim to have outlasted yet another American president. Segolene Royal, on whom I have a total crush, will be the next president of France, and the phenomenon of the two largest economies in continental Europe headed by women (Germany's chancellor is Angela Merkel) will at last erase prejudice in this country against women as heads of state. Unless, that is, Nancy Pelosi ends up presiding over a House that remains nearly as corrupt as it was under the Hastert/Delay regime and/or Hillary Clinton continues to compromise principle in the interest of her ambition to be president. I think she's going to find that triangulation and adoption of Republican positions is a taint on future Democratic nominees. Also, any potential candidate supporting Chimpie's "surge strategy" will find his or her prospects skidding asymptotically toward zero by the Iowa primary.

I fear for the dollar, which is losing favor among those dependent on our oil junkie habits and process of denial, and eventually the Chinese will slow their purchase of our debt as a bad investment as we continue to slide into a two-tiered society of ultra-rich and comparatively impoverished citizens. With their credit maxed out, average Americans are going to see that the illusion of affluence bought with plastic is nothing at all like true affluence which derives from receiving interest payments rather than making them. It may get to the point that many Americans will shed the jingoism that has blinded them to their own exploitation and will begin to look upon the social democracies of northern Europe as far better models. "Socialism" as a word will lose its fear power in the mouths of extremist idiots like Sean Hannity, Bill O'Reilly, and Ann Coulter. Unbridled, unregulated capitalism will not look so good, and although this may hurt libertarianism as an economic model, the libertarians will make large gains because of their morally-neutral and pragmatic stances on social issues.

More later. Gotta go walk the dog, or, rather, the dog is going to walk me.

A Christmas Story

In December, 1972, I was serving in the US Air Force in Berlin as part of the 6912th Security Squadron ("Freedom through Vigilance" was our unit motto) and my flight happened to pull the mid-shift, midnight to 8am, for the 25th of December. My buddies and I were drinking coffee, talking about God knows what, wondering about what the Soviets were doing, and waiting for relief in the morning. It sucked to be working on Christmas, but it was duty. It was a pretty quiet night, all things considered, because sometimes Xmas could be a madhouse. I remember thinking, as I took my shift on the search position, "So this is Christmas in Berlin."

Then the site alarm went off. This meant a perimeter penetration. Over the PA system a call went out: "ERF team to guard desk." That was the unintentionally comic abbreviation for the Emergency Reaction Force, a group of us designated to supplement the Security Police in an emergency. We hustled to the guard station where we were issued helmets, parkas, and M16s.

"Clear your weapons!" the sergeant in charge said to us, indicating a sand-filled barrel adjacent to the weapons locker.

The four of us--the ERF team alternates--looked at one another. We hadn't handled an M16 since basic training.

"Don't give them any ammunition," the sergeant ordered the airman by the weapons locker. To us he said, "What the hell are you doing on the ERF team?"

He must have known that alternate members received no training for this sort of thing. The fact was, in any case, that we were strategically useless at best, being in Berlin and surrounded by the Warsaw Pact, and an intelligence liability at worst. The best thing our own side could do during a Soviet invasion would be to blow the site up with us in it.

"Well, shit," the sergeant said to himself. Then to us, "Look, you just follow my lead, do what I tell you and don't let anyone know you really aren't armed. Let's go."

We filed out the door in a crouch, staying tight against the wall of the building. I was the third man in the line behind the sergeant and another SP. Three other ERF members trailed me.

"Hold it! Freeze! We are armed!" the sergeant suddenly shouted.

There, standing rather wobbly as if inventing a new shimmy for a new dance step, was our flight officer. Let's call him Captain Towner. He was stinking drunk. Apparently he had slipped out into the secure perimeter area for reasons known only to him.

"Now Walt, don't make a big deal about this, man," the captain said. Walt was the sergeant's first name. Walt was black, a good career airman, and had come to us from two tours in Vietnam. He was a no-bullshit guy on duty, but a hell of a lot of fun at the NCO club afterwards.

"Against the wall," Walt said, and shoved Captain Towner toward the cinder block building we had come out of. Towner barely got his hands out in front of him and banged his head on the wall.

Walt looked over his shoulder at us, "Cover him! If he tries to escape, shoot him."

"Goddamn, motherfucker!" Towner said.

"Spread your arms and legs. Do it now!" And Walt kicked the captain's feet apart. Towner, severely impaired and with his feet on ice, slid down the wall, his hands clawing for a grip. He lay on the cold ground reaching for the wall for a moment before realizing he was down.

Walt grinned at us. To Towner he said, "I told you to spread 'em against the wall! Do it!"

He reached down and grabbed Towner's collar, jerking his upper body. "Get up!"

"You fuckin' nigger," Towner said. "You goddamn spook."

"I've heard it all before, Captain," Walt said. "Now get up!"

Again Walt grinned at us. He kicked the captain in the ass. Towner tried to get up, but his feet couldn't get purchase on the ice and he flopped face down into the snow and mud again. Walt pulled out a pair of handcuffs and clapped one bracelet over Towner's wrist.

"You fuckin' jigaboo, I'll have your stripes," Towner screamed.

Walt pushed his head into the snow and cuffed his other wrist. "Heard it all before, Captain."

He jerked the captain to his feet, turned him around, and told him to squat against the wall. Surrounding him were the four of us plus an SP pointing rifles at him. Towner's eyes went wide. Towner fell over in the snow. By now we couldn't help it. I started laughing, and so did everyone else, Walt included. Towner, a good officer, a pretty good guy, and a Russian scholar, had just done something that could destroy his career, but good. But this was damned funny. It was freezing cold, three in the morning, it was Christmas day, Santa was somewhere over Central Europe, and I was holding an unloaded M16 on my flight commander with the order "shoot to kill" from one cool Security Policeman who was going to teach Towner a good lesson. Walt earned the respect of the rest of us who never really gave the SPs the respect they deserved. We'd just taken them for granted, the guys with the guns. So this was Christmas in Berlin.

Finally, the six of us gathered Towner by his limbs and trucked him back into the building. Walt had us put him in one of the day-weenie's offices and gave him a wool blanket.

"Sleep it off, Captain."

"You're a good man, Walt," the captain said, curling on the floor and pulling the blanket over himself. He was asleep in ten seconds.

We went back to the guard area, cleared our (unloaded) weapons--Walt showed us how this time--and turned our rifles, parkas, and helmets back in.

"None of this happened, right?" Walt told us, "I'll report the alarm as a system anomaly."

Now the reason I tell this story is because it pretty much covers the total drama of my battle experience during the Cold War, and, of course, at no time was I at risk of anything. It was a comic moment that made a particular Christmas as memorable as any I've ever had. But as I write this, we have some 140,000 of our young men and women at very great risk far, far away, for reasons that have turned out to be lies. They are being targeted by all sides of a splintering civil war, brought about by smashing the one power that held them all neutral and failing to fill the vacuum that resulted by responsible planning and support per the rules of war.

I could argue that my presence in Berlin in 1972 was legititimized by the very real belligerance that existed between the world's two superpowers at that time, and that a commitment had been made to keep West Berlin free way back in 1945. And, of course, Berlin was an absolutely vital intelligence asset for us in Central Europe back before modern surveillance satellite technology and things I can't even imagine have been developed since then.

But what I'm getting at are those guys, like Walt, who really did and do put it on the line in a way that few of us every truly appreciate. Every Christmas I think of Walt and the two tours he pulled at Ton Son Nhut and then all the other guys I knew who faced real mortal danger--unlike me--and now all those who continue to face danger, and more for the vanity of a single man than the security of a nation. When it is for the true security of our nation and ourselves, it is the most generous sacrifice you can imagine, given the terrible horror of warfare.

I hope that you will join me in raising a glass to all those soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, and Coast Guard members who spent their Christmas not only away from their loved ones in a foreign land, but in a foreign land in which the majority of the population thinks it acceptable to kill them, and which, were they permitted to vote on the issue, would wish them all back home, just as we do. Please remember that the military is but an instrument of policy, and never the maker of policy. Please send them a prayer, or a good wish, or a care package, or tell their families that you appreciate their sacrifice. Despite the pointless catastrophe that this fiasco in Iraq is, and the total criminality of the policymakers behind it, our military does have a mission and a duty to defend us, and even obey a corrupted leadership in the spirit of keeping the military under civilian control. It is our duty ensure that never again will they be sent by some criminal civilian cabal to avenge, exploit, or oppress, but only to defend us.

It's the job that deserves our attention and thanks. To all our brothers and sisters in arms.