Wednesday, September 24, 2014

A scorecard and an extra-large beer, please, vendor

I admit I was only half paying attention the first time I heard it, and I thought Khoresan was a commercial for yet another drug.  ("Side effects may include drowsiness, nausea, dry mouth, and if you're John McCain, an erection lasting right through the Sunday talk shows.")  Then President Obama went to the UN to announce that the Axis of Evil has been re-named the Network of Death,  so apparently our foreign policy is still being branded by Marvel Comics.  This is not encouraging, or enlightening.

The New York Times, sensing my confusion, stepped up with a sort of chart describing the current permutations of the Death Network, so now I know that the Nusra Front operates in Syria, Shabab is Somalian, and Qaedat al Jihad can be found in and around Pakistan, while ISIS or ISIL (nobody seems quite sure) is all over Iraq like a rash.  Not to forget Boko Haram of Nigeria and its perverted  production of "Seven Brides For Seven Brothers," or our old friends Hamas and Hezbollah.  And really, don't they seem like old friends at this point?  Familiar faces like Joe McCarthy and Barry Goldwater, from the good old days of the GOP?  All I remember about Khoresan is a really angry-looking beardy guy who appears ready to blow up everything twice.  He may in fact be dead now.  This is why I need the scorecard.

None of this is funny -- some poor French tourist lost his head today, preceded by the usual vile rhetoric.  ("The cheaper the crook, the gaudier the patter."--  Samuel Spade)  When this happens, I admit to wishing someone would napalm these ISILs from the inside out, but this is a passing visceral response and not the basis for a national policy.  Luckily, I don't have to formulate one.  That task has fallen to the President because the Constitution fails to spell out what happens when the House of Representatives is controlled by resentful idiots whose consensus seems to be "Don't ask, don't tell, do whatever you want and we'll back you up and then impeach you.  And climate change is a myth.  Derp."  The Senate has not been much more helpful.

Tasked with fighting a war without Americans in actual combat, John Kerry has logged thousands of air miles lining up another Coalition of the Reluctantly Willing.  It's an impressive list, but thunderingly absent is our plucky little ally Israel.  The recipient of so much American money and weaponry apparently isn't answering the phone these days.  Which is odd, because they certainly seem to have a table down front and a large stake in the outcome, so you might expect them at least to match the token contribution promised by, say, Bulgaria.  If ISIL gains control of Iraq or Syria, or both, it won't be Bulgaria they target next.

As always, this is The Most Important Thing In the World, and it isn't.  Bad weather and misbehaving athletes get equal time on the nightly "news".  Terrorists are at work here -- one of them shot two state troopers in Pennsylvania, while another started a massive wildfire in northern California.  What?  No, these are white men.  Not terrorists?  My mistake.  Where's that scorecard, son?  Make it two beers.



Monday, September 01, 2014

Late summer thoughts

If I were a Jungian, I might suggest that America's racist collective unconscious is trying to kill Barack Obama by killing people who look like him:  Trayvon Martin, Victor White, Eric Garner, John Crawford, Michael Brown, Kajieme Powell, Gregory Towns, even Renisha McBride.  After six years of watermelon cartoons, rodeo clowns, Birther idiocies and barely coded complaints about "laziness," white-on-black violence has spiked and shows no signs of abating, even among police.  Fifty years of progress means tanks and tear gas instead of fire hoses and police dogs.  Frankly, I'm surprised only a few young men have been enraged enough to follow the path of Douglas McArthur McCain.


George Carlin was more explicitly political, but I don't recall that he evoked the bile-spewing commentary that followed the death of Robin Williams.  Williams must have led an exemplary life to earn  the loathing of Pat Robertson, the Westboro Baptists (no funeral to disrupt) and Jabba the Rush.  I was amazed nobody at Fox "News" said, "You know who else had Parkinson's and killed himself?  Hitler."  Which is their idea of a walk-off, game-winning argument.    

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Laughter in the dark

In the coming days, many stories will be told.  Here is one.

In the 1970s a friend was working as a taxi driver in New York City.  One evening he picked up Robin Williams at Lincoln Center and drove him to a midtown hotel.  All the way down Broadway Williams kept up a monologue, riffing on the traffic, the pedestrians, the shop signs, the music on the radio.  The driver nearly had several accidents because he was laughing so hard.  When they arrived, Williams handed him a fifty-dollar bill.

"Mr. Williams, I can't take your money," the driver said.  "You just did a show for me."

But his passenger insisted.  "I know how hard you guys work," he said.

Then he was gone. 

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Read this first

To all Time-Warner subscribers:  Welcome to Comcast, The World's Shittiest Cable Company, and may the FCC have mercy on your souls.  Your bill will probably increase, but on the other hand, you can save money as your daily newspaper ceases to publish and your local movie theatre becomes a Gap.  You should choose a time to re-boot your cable box each day in order to read the program guide, unless you enjoy the thrill of clicking on TO BE ANNOUNCED (most likely an episode of "Law and Order" with guest star Denis O'Hare).  Also, if you cannot get online, re-boot your router.  DO NOT call Sanjay, a/k/a Larry, at Customer Service,  who will only tell you the same thing I have.  When your picture freezes or pixilates or a whole channel disappears without warning, count to a hundred and tell yourself, "It's only television.  I can probably find this on YouTube some day."  Do not be disoriented if picture and sound seem to be out of sync.  The Warner Brothers solved this problem in movies in 1927, and one day Comcast will, too. 

Remember the Comcast motto...We didn't get rich enough to buy a network (and Time-Warner!) by wasting money on training, service and equipment.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Over the river to sell the goods...

I did a search at Amazon, I dipped my toe in the brackish sludge of right wing media, and I found no one, no one, protesting corporate America's War On Thanksgiving.  It's not as venerable as Christmas, but it is wholly American and, in fact, marking its sesquicentennial.  Unlike Christmas, which was pasted over the old Roman Saturnalia, Thanksgiving is specifically religious in origin:  On October 3, 1863, in a Proclamation written by William Seward and signed by Abraham Lincoln, Americans were enjoined to give thanks for "the gracious gifts of the Most High God."

But to hell with that.  Retailers apparently need one more day to unload the merchandise they import from Asian sweatshops, so Thanksgiving has been cancelled for thousands of salesclerks, cashiers, stock people, security guards, custodians and others.  Just another workday.  But maybe it's not all bad.  For instance, many Walmart employees -- sorry, associates -- have lost their food stamps because of the zombies who have eaten the brain of Lincoln's old party, so it wasn't going to be much of a Thanksgiving for them anyway.  Perhaps they would rather work than eat crackers and peanut butter in front of the television, or line up at the neighborhood soup kitchen.  Turkey and fixings on a Styrofoam plate send the unmistakable message that you, too, are disposable.

I count on the Supreme Court to turn the absurd into the completely surreal, and I am seldom disappointed.  Yesterday they agreed to decide whether corporations have a right to religious freedom, i.e., not paying for insurance policies that cover contraception and abortion.  As for individuals who want to observe a religious holiday, well, what do you think? Back to work, you minimum-wage moochers.  If you don't like it, go start a hedge fund.

Monday, November 25, 2013


I admit it.  I put on MSNBC in the afternoon if there's nothing better, like a medley of Charles Butterworth films on TCM.  Chris Matthews is a giant pain in the ass and Al Sharpton needs to develop an inside voice, but I'm often directed to something diverting or informative.  Sadly, the last, shaky bastion of liberalism only makes headlines when it screws up.  I mean, really.  Martin Bashir, of all people.  We've all thought about taking a dump on Sarah Palin's head, but you're not supposed to say so out loud, even on low-rated cable.  That being the case, I can't believe the Real Housewife of Wasilla was so distressed that she had to cancel an appearance on The Today Show to hawk her latest McBook.  This is a woman who likes to shoot animals from a helicopter so she can admire the red blood on the white snow.  She's not joining Lindsey Graham on the fainting couch any time soon, and I'll bet he's relieved.

Oh, sorry, was that Hate Speech?  It's hard to tell these days.  Alec "Oops, I did it again" Baldwin was abruptly yanked off MSNBC when he called some reporter a "queen" last week.  Like Bashir, he apologized.  Unlike Bashir, he was only responsible for one hour a week and it was hardly a must-see.  Like most actors, Baldwin is too self-involved to be a good interviewer.  I enjoyed his talk with the too-little-seen Debra Winger, but the hour he spent with Bill DeBlasio felt like three.  When it finally ended I was convinced that the new mayor of New York is Bloomberg without the charisma.

If Baldwin is gone for good, no doubt the Rightzis will crow that it's all right to insult Palin but not teh gays.  I don't believe he's a bigot, just someone with imperfect impulse control.  And who of us is without sin when it comes to life's daily irritants?  A female driver cuts you off in traffic, a black person grabs the last cart in the supermarket, and all the years of good will and conscientious striving fall away, and out from the reptilian part of your brain comes that unforgivable word, or several.  It's shameful enough when you're alone in the car.  Celebrities are never alone.  Baldwin will be doing benefits for GLAAD until he retires, because Oscar Hammerstein was right -- we're carefully taught all that garbage in early life and we never throw it all away.  (I actually hate that song, it's so damn preachy, and Richard Rodgers didn't knock himself out coming up with an attractive melody.  But damn it, he was right.)

But what of MSNBC?  Are there so few articulate lefties that they need to repeat everything twice and fill up the weekend with those unspeakable prison documentaries?  Why Joe Scarborough when the Stephanie Miller radio show is looking for a TV outlet?  Can we limit guest commentators to one appearance per day, to cut down on the queasy feeling of deja vu?  (Did I see her an hour ago?  Does she have her own show?  Is her name really Crystal Ball?  Should I get out of the house for a while?)  Does every freaking member of Congress have to be interviewed in the same spot in the Capitol?  Just for the comedy, could they pick up the cable show Rob and Doug Ford are doing?  I can't get enough of those loveable hosers. 




Friday, November 08, 2013

Oy, Canada

Rob Ford and Ted Cruz have certainly changed the way Americans think about Canada.  Never again will we be able to see it as the innocuous, friendly place that gave the world curling, Paul Anka and the Mounties' Musical Ride.  We probably should have seen this coming when Justin Bieber began to exhibit signs of Michael Jacksonianism.  There is some dark shit in America's Attic.

The best news for bruised and weary Americans is, we don't own this.  (Ford, I mean -- I'll get to Cruz later.)  It's not as if we elected Rush Limbaugh mayor of New York -- just the opposite.  It was Canadians who handed their largest city to an obese, right-wing, racist, homophobic drug abuser.  And not a clever one.  On a scale of one to ten, with one being "I got hooked in the service" and ten being "Bitch set me up," "I was in one of my drunken stupors" is the worst excuse ever for smoking crack.  He might have pointed out that no public money was spent on the rock, or that it's a fairly victimless crime compared with, say, Bob Filner's attempt to stop-and-frisk every woman in San Diego, but no.  Ford hasn't even organized a photo-op with a clergyman, or asked Torontonians to pray for him.  Canadian politicians are weird.

They have to come south to be vicious.  For a senator who has zero legislative accomplishments and a deep hatred of the United States government, Ted Cruz has succeeded in lodging himself in our  consciousness like asbestos in the lungs of a building renovator.  His irritating nasal voice and odd appearance, like something you'd get if Bill Murray screwed a panda, have been catnip for the media, eager to personalize the Tea Party's latest assault on Americans who had the gall to re-elect Barack Obama.  For what it's worth, even the Houston Chronicle reversed its endorsement of him.
He has been so toxic for the Republicans that a conspiracy theory made the rounds that he was a Democratic mole.  Comparisons with Joseph McCarthy are unfair to McCarthy.  Even Rand Paul can't stand him.  He is my favorite mole since Mole.  You know, The Wind In the Willows, a book he may want to read in his next filibuster.  Every dollar he collects from the Republican base is a dollar they won't have to spend on bullets, beer and crystal meth.  Go, Teddy, go!