I Never Watch CSI

In fact, I'm so unfamiliar with the show that I don't even know which version of CSI I saw last night--Miami? New York? Clonakilty? But as I was going through the channels the sight of a woman in "Werewolf Syndrome" make-up caught my eye and I stopped to see what was going on. The woman was talking about how her brother, who had been murdered, was her only link to the world, and that she didn't know what she was going to do now. She had been living in a secret room in the house for her entire life. Her room was filled with dolls and dollhouses, and as I watched I couldn't help but think of my little girl and boy, whose autism essentially puts them in the same spot. What happens when I die? Who will take care of them? Who will protect them? There are so many people who are anxious to make fun of people who are different in any way, so many people who are ready to take advantage of or hurt those who can't defend themselves. It was the dolls that did it, though. Seeing them, it was impossible not to see Q., who takes her doll into the dining room so that it can converse with the cats under the table. I was overwhelmed with the sadness of it all. Of course, my wife will be there if I die 1, so it's not quite so dire as my emotions led me to believe, but the bigger question--why do we shun, mock, and injure those who are different?--remains painfully poignant. It made we wish that I could bring someone with this syndrome into my classroom and let kids see that underneath the extra hair there's a person just like them. And where would that list end? A long line of "different folks" did a line dance through my skull. A mentally retrarded man, a woman in a wheelchair, a Palestinian. And so on. All just people. All deserving of kindness, at the very least. I feel my greatest despair when I see a lack of kindness in the world. Why do people insist on giving each other shit? Isn't life hard enough without it?

1 Update: Or not. Oh the naive faith of a man in love.

Leave it to the Commies

You know how it goes. You say you're finished with it and you may even think that you're finished with it, but it continues to work its way around in you. "Midgets in my head, chompin' on my brain." 1  So this morning I googled Al-Shifa and found some pretty disturbing stuff which suggests that not only did Clinton/America not apologize or seek to make amends for its bombing of the pharmaceutical plant in the Sudan (a major plant, by the way, which supplied something like one-half of the Sudan with basic drugs), but that there was strong evidence to suggest that he knew beforehand that it was not producing anything related to chemical weapons. And worse: when Sudan appealed to the UN for an investigation, the US blocked it. Said there was no need. Of course not. Why would anyone need to check up on us, after all? We're the good guys. Jesus Christ. At any rate, during my journey I happened upon several interesting articles, one of which was on the World Socialist Web Site. In the midst of information specific to the Al-Shifa attack, the writer had this to say:

"The barefaced lying by the American government demonstrates a cynical and contemptuous attitude to the public. And the corporate-controlled media obediently repeats the official propaganda, no matter how unconvincing. Both the media and the government count on the acquiescence of a public opinion which has been systematically deprived of the information necessary for critical judgment." (https://www.wsws.org/en/articles/1998/08/bomb-a26.html?view=article_mobile)

Which is pretty much Noam Chomsky in a nutshell. Isn't it amazing that we go around priding ourselves on our open society, our free speech, our free thought . . . when the truth is, as I said to my former friend at work, we are the most conservative of nations, we have no respect for any opinion one inch to the left of far right, and we chastise and ridicule opposing points of view rather than lend an ear? It's enough to make you puke.



1 A Dustin Hoffman line from the great (and completely forgotten) movie, Who is Harry Kellerman and Why Is He Saying Those Terrible Things About Me? (1971).

Shit Slinging Festival

Yesterday was, indeed, an official Shit Slinging Festival. Amongst other things, I was called--and not for the first time--a radical by one of my colleagues. Why? The proximate cause was my suggestion that Bill Clinton was (1) the best Republican president we've ever had and (2) that said Clinton was culpable for the destruction of the al-Shifa pharmaceutical plant. I was amazed, by the way, at how quickly, loudly, and uniformly the group of people in the immediate area rose up to chastise me for suggesting that Clinton either knew what he was doing at the time (destroying a pharmaceutical plant, that is) or knew after the fact and was unapologetic (and therefore immoral). I will also hazard a guess: none of the people who chastised me had the slightest scrap of knowledge about the incident, and were reacting solely on an "I like Clinton" or" We wouldn't do that" knee jerk response. None of which is really the point. The point is that apparently to express any opinion which deviates from the cultural norm is considered (at least by my immediate peer group) as the defining characteristic of a radical. Words. Questions. Radical? As I have pointed out on more than one occasion, I live in the suburbs, I have three kids, three cats, and drive a Honda Accord. How radical could I possibly be? If the act of questioning has now become the province of the radical, then we are in very serious trouble. Worst of all, though, after this experience I felt so drained that all I could think was, "I never want to talk about this stuff again." You get tired of being called out--particularly by people who don't know anything on the subject at hand. It is demeaning, and it definitely undermines friendships and working relationships. It would be so much easier to just give up, to smile and nod. That's what I wanted . . . for about three hours. And now? Fuck that. If people want to keep their heads buried in the sand, fine. It just makes it that much easier to kick them in their big fat asses. Shit washes off, y'know?

By the way, if your're interested, there's a rather large posting on al-Shifa at this address:
http://www.mediamonitors.net/mosaddeq16.html

Terrorstorm

Bought it at Barnes & Noble, for God's sake, so it can't be all that subversive. But Alex Jones' Terrorstorm DVD is pretty mind boggling, and I'd have to say that even though I was familiar with 80% of the content, it was worth doing. Highlights were the story of the London bus bombings, which was all new to me, and the information about thermite bombs being used on the World Trade Center buildings. I'd heard about the latter previously--even read the article by the scientist who was interviewed on the DVD--but seeing a close up of the WTC building as he talked about it was chilling. The close up very clearly shows molten metal dripping from the corner of the building before the collapse. Even the conventional explanations agree that the temperature of the burning fuel was not sufficient to melt steel (see the Popular Mechanics book, Debunking 9/11 on this), so what the hell is that shit? And, of course, there were many reports of molten metal found after the collapse. The London bus bombing material was amazing. The part that got to me the most was when they talked about the anti-terorism exercise which was running at the same time--which included exactly the same targets. Are we actually supposed to believe that bullshit? Of course, the same thing happened on 9/11. They just happened to be running exercises which included planes crashing into buildings--some sources even say planes crashing into the Pentagon--at the same time that it was happening in the real world. (If this is the real world.)

At any rate . . . this DVD was well worth the $15 or $20 I spent for it, even if Alex Jones' voice is a little grating. (I know it's petty, and I apologize for this, but I have to admit that hearing him pronounce the word "naked" as "nekid" really bugged me. I will say three Heil Bushes as penance.)

The Crest's "Skeptik" has been running through my head for the past 24 hours. Perhaps the lead line from the title track should be on a banner for this blog: "I've grown skeptical / Not too acceptable . . . neither robot nor U.S. vegetable . . . . " (Great album, by the way, and still available on Amazon HERE.)

P.S. Well, that was a long time ago, before I knew what an evil bastard Alex Jones was. Sorry I gave him my $20 now, for sure.

Hello, it's me

Popeye used to say, "I've stood all I can stand, and I can't stands no more." That's me. I wanted to call this blog Sick and Tired. Apparently someone else was sick and tired, though. I wanted to call it Read, Weep. But someone else was already weeping. So now it's a little Rimbaud riff 1, and though I haven't exactly earned it, I am going to claim it.

So here's an opening shot: I am baffled by the fact that so many people seem to look past the obvious fact that our government participated in the 9/11 attacks. I am stunned that when you point out some rather obvious fact about this that people rise in defense of the official story. How stupid are we at this point? Leave me alone and let me watch the shadows, please. Smoking cigarettes and watching Captain Kangaroo indeed.

Is there anybody out there?

Hello. It's me. 



1 When I first started it, this blog was entitled SEASONED IN HELL, a reference to Arthur Rimbaud's A Season in Hell. Just sayin'.