Back, Kind of

Yes, I have been on a bit of a hiatus. I couldn't blog until the Red Sox finally won a game. (Thank you, Detroit.)

So, perhaps you've heard that David Ortiz has been directly implicated in the steroid scandal. Sigh... Even though you know most of my opinions on this steroid business, this is sad news. Papi has been such a goodwill ambassador for baseball, no one wants to see him tarnished (well, short of a bunch of cold-hearted ogres, I suppose.)

Still, in the wake of it all, some cooler voices are prevailing. One of my faves comes from the Times (Thank you, Bob Costas):

"Texas didn’t win anything during that period of time, and it’s pretty clear that Texas might have led the league in massive steroid use."

We still love you, Papi. And thanks for the RBI last night. We'll even overlook that crazy baserunning error. Especially if you start hitting again...



I'll post some images from the trip to Massachusetts soon, as well as a couple from my friends' visit to NYC this week. Just need to have the stars line up a bit...

Holiday Music News

Yes, I'm back from New England. And I'll have more to share once I'm a little more caught up, but for now - this post is for everyone, but especially for those near and dear to the 'boken.

Firstly, it has been reported in American and British music press that Bob Dylan may be releasing a Christmas Album. Consider the subject open for discussion.

Secondly, and this is the part for Hobokenites, and those who love them, Yo La Tengo will not be doing Hanukkah shows this year, because they'll be in Japan. Very sad news for us who aren't, you know, actually in the band, but a pretty cool reason for it, I must say. Their ONE show this fall/winter in the greater Big Apple Metropolitan Area will be at Roseland on Sept. 25, and all but general admission is already sold out.

Don't say nobody warned you.

Re. the one-night-only aspect of it all, Ira writes: "We'll do our best to cram eight nights of nonsense into one evening. After all, Anson Williams only turns 60 once, so you know we're going to pull out all the stops."

Sigh...

There has been a certain amount of attention focused on some attacks being made on Barack Obama by the Right Wing punditry of late. I'm referring of course to this "birther" notion, espoused by Lou Dobbs, among others, that Obama wasn't really born in Hawaii, or in the U.S. at all. That he was actually born in, umm, maybe Kenya or something.

And naturally, I'm also referring to the proposition put forth by Glenn Beck, that Obama is a racist. Yes, a racist with a "deep seated hatred for white people." This because the President suggested that it was "stupid" for Cambridge police to arrest Henry Louis Gates for breaking and entering his own home. Ok, the arrest was actually for disorderly conduct, "after exhibiting loud and tumultuous behavior" after the cops came in to his house and asked for ID, and Obama called it stupid (then backtracked on that language the next day.) And for that Glenn Beck says he's racist. Or it might be because he (the President) invited the participants in that arrest debacle to the White House for a beer to talk things out. I'm not sure.

And I'm not sure it matters. Here's the thing: I don't think these guys necessarily mean what they say. Is there any chance that Obama was not born in the U.S.? Not really, no. I mean, strictly speaking, sure - anything is possible. (including that some invisible being created the universe 6,000 years ago and that all evidence to the contrary is the work of some other, EVIL, invisible being) But - really? No more than there is a chance that Obama is a racist. Again, sure there's a chance that this man, whose mother (did you hear that? his MOTHER) is white, has some deep seated hatred for "the white culture."

But, I put it to you once again: really?? No, of course not.

So what's the deal? I'll tell you what - and it's surprisingly simple, and you probably already know it, though I think people lose sight of it all the time.

Here it is:

Television News is Show Business.

See? That's it. It's that simple. TV News is not all that brilliant in the way of sharing knowledge, or even information, and most of it isn't even pretending very hard to be. I mean, yes, of course, there are some very important exceptions once in a while, but even those exceptions fall into the category of "we need to make people watch us or our ratings slip and then we lose our jobs."

And - just as important, and even easier to lose sight of - it's true for the people we agree with too! Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow, for instance: they too are there to sell soap.

You may be tempted to sputter "but Maddow and Olbermann are brilliant! They're not evil and devious and subjective the way Glenn Beck is!" I agree, part way: they are brilliant; they are not evil; they aren't that devious; but they are pretty much just as subjective and snarky in their presentation as Beck and Dobbs.

In the case of Olbermann and Maddow, I agree with much of the stuff they say. Beck and Dobbs don't say things that I agree with very often at all. See how that works? There are all kinds of levels of ideology working out there, no matter how 'objective' one tries to be. Even in (gasp!) newspapers.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't resist the Becks and Dobbses of the world. On the contrary, I think you should. Just be careful how much credit you give them.

And I am DEFINITELY NOT saying that those clowns are just as viable as Olbermann and Maddow, or that there is ANY credibility whatsoever to this notion, seemingly in common currency, that making whacked out statements that fit with your ideology 'balances' out contrary statements (no matter how accurate those contrary statements are), or that repeating those assertions over and over and over again makes them true.

What I am saying is: do your homework when it comes to gathering information. Use some critical thinking when you turn that information into knowledge in pursuit of the Truth. (Oh my, I'm trafficking in lofty themes today.) And make a very clear distinction for yourself between publicity and policy. Dobbs can say any wacky thing about Obama's birth. Beck can say what he wants about Obama's 'racist' attitudes. Representative Broun can go on about how health care reform will kill old people. Vice President Cheney can say any reprehensible thing about how useful, heroic and necessary 'enhanced interrogation techniques' were and are.

WHOA. Wait a minute... those last couple are a little different, aren't they? Broun and Cheney have (or should have) a different kind of responsibility, because they fall into the category of policy-maker, and elected ones at that.

These guys can say what they want (it's one of their most fundamental rights) and you can react how you want, but the question you need to be asking is - what is going to happen as a result? As a result of their statements? As a result of your reaction? There is a difference between media reaction, popular reaction and legal (re)action. And there is a big, huge, gigantic difference between calling someone names, and derailing a plan that might help to save the health care system of a nation; or getting off the hook for ordering your citizen soldiers to torture their prisoners, discrediting those who oppose this practice for being unserious about defending the nation, and in the process doing intense damage to that nation's standing, and making it impossible to prosecute those prisoners who were actually guilty of something. Just as an example.

Ave Atque Vale Merce Cunningham

You've probably heard by now that Merce Cunningham has died.

As it seems we've been doing a lot lately, let's celebrate a life as well as mourn a loss.



This Annie Liebowitz portrait is an iconic one, and seems to fit the bill.

I was fortunate enough to attend what must have been one of his last public appearances, and maybe his very final performance event at Dia Beacon. It was incredible, beautiful, stunning, moving. The program shared the oft-stated (Alastair Macaulay writes "almost routinely hailed") contention that Merce was The Greatest Living Choreographer, and I asked someone who is more than passingly familiar with the dance world if they could really do that. Make that claim? THE Greatest? And the response was: "Well, who else would it be?"

Good point.




Love these images from his 1958 piece "Antic Meet," which was designed by Robert Rauchenberg and photographed by Richard Rutlege



Now, while I 've said before and will say again that I'm not a fan of favoritism, so that whole 'The Greatest' thing falls a little flat, I think it's surely fair to say that Merce Cunningham was one of the greatest artists in any medium, not limited to dance/choreography, of the last century or so. I have the sense that if you gave him a paperclip, a ball of twine and a tuba he could turn them into something you couldn't take your eyes away from.

Various media outlets/newspapers have their own obituaries, of course. Among many many others are Macaulay at The Times, Tobi Tobias for Bloomberg, and one from the London Telegraph that has no byline, but that yields some choice commentary:

He was impatient with the quest to discover meaning in art; asked what one dance was about, he answered: "It's about 40 minutes."

...for many years he was derided. Fairly early in the life of his company, a New York reviewer wrote: "Last night Merce Cunningham presented a programme of his choreography, and if someone doesn't stop him, he's going to do it again tonight."

The reception was not always rapturous: in Paris in 1964, when the company was beginning to tour Europe, audiences threw tomatoes and eggs, and Cunningham later recalled that people would leave in the middle of the performance to go out to buy more.

Love those, for their display of his persistence, and for their revelation of his originality and passionate creativity as he worked with Rauschenberg, Martha Graham and (especially) John Cage as well as countless other dancers, artists and musicians.

And the obits (along with commentary as he was still working) make the supremely important point that his work continued to be vital, relevant, important, well past the time he was able to dance with full vigor, or even get around unaided. That event we experienced in Beacon was beyond remarkable: he was creating up until the end, and he'll be missed.

More Kindling

I'm not a luddite, or anything like one. But to add to my earlier mini-rant about the less-than-ideal properties of some of the new technologies, this aspect of the Kindle is the kind of thing that raises the hair on the back of my neck (on those days that I don't get around to shaving it).

Love Orwell. Always have. And this kind of ironic incident just affirms why. And it, you know, kinda scares me a little.



Don't neglect the little Editor's Note: "Amazon said it would not automatically remove purchased copies of Kindle books if a similar situation arose in the future."

How comforting.

On the Waterfront

It's not really news that politics are still dirty in New Jersey. But this would seem to be an extreme case, at least at first glance. Innocent until proven guilty applies, of course, but the allegations are a large-scale, international corruption and money laundering scheme.

Among those arrested is Peter Cammarano, who has been the Mayor of Hoboken for about 20 minutes. (ok, ok - a couple of months) He won a tight runoff election this spring, and celebrated his 32nd birthday yesterday (along with kicking off St. Ann's Festival - the 'boken's annual Saints and Italian Sausage & Zeppoles party) before being arrested this morning.

His electoral rivals accused him of being part of the old school machine (and no, I didn't vote for him), but - holy moly! Brando and Malden are spinning in their graves.

File Under "Are You F*cking Kidding Me?"

This is a joke, right?

I keep looking for the ironic wink of a punch line, or the April 1 dateline. Or something, anything, that will stop me from thinking that I have simply lived too long.

The Gangs of New Paltz

I think I've mentioned here that Cory and I went up to New Paltz a couple weekends ago for a visit with our friends Frank and Amanda and their kids before we headed over to Bard College for the incredible Lucinda Childs Company's performance/film Dance.

People may say (and some do say it) "Oh sure, Mick. Very performance-minded and artistic/edgy - you talk a good game with your Lucinda Childs/Phillip Glass/Sol LeWitt groundbreaking multi-media masterpiece, but you're really heading upstate to hang with your aging college friends and their kids." Well I gotta tell you - these upstate families are not messing around. Check out Callie and Daphne:



"Wait a minute," some of those same naysayers are now exclaiming, "that bartender can't be more than five years old!"

True that. And did you catch that tiger tattoo she's sporting?



And maybe you noticed that not only is a pre-schooler mixing the drinks, she's training her little sister in the fine art of mixology.



Still thinking of them as the Cleavers? Think they can't roll? These guys are hardcore - slapping tattoos on their toddlers and having them run the bar for the big boys.



And don't be fooled by that sweet smile. I'm not saying that she's been specifically trained to deceive by the street gang she calls a family, but this girl is a pre-K killer. I asked her how her summer was going, and she told me how she just passed the test for her green belt in Aikido. I said "Wow! You could probably really kick my butt!" and she gave the cutest little giggle and the next thing I knew I was looking up from the lawn at that smile with a sore shoulder and a headache. I muttered something about the suburbs being tougher than I thought and she put me in a chokehold and said "What suburb? We are an hour and a half from the City and are a self-actualized community with a thriving arts scene and a life of our own."

I stood corrected. Rather, I knelt corrected.

And then there's this one:



Sure, sure - she looks all innocent and pure as the driven snow. And she's too little to do any real damage yet, I guess. But I'd venture to say that her harmlessness (if she really is harmless) will last another 15 minutes or so. And then she'll get ink on her own arm (dragon? cobra? barbed wire?) and take her place at her sister's side protecting their turf.

When I first knew their dad he was working for Greenpeace. Guess those guys learn a thing or two about survival when they chain themselves to oil derricks and giant redwoods. Sheesh!

Carter on Christianity

Crazy what can happen while you're away on business.

Walter Cronkite passed to the Great Newsroom in the Sky on Friday. He was not a ground-breaker the way that Murrow was, and he perpetuated the myth of media objectivity, but he was about as good as his school of journalism gets, and I don't think we'll see his like again any time soon (if for no other reason than that TV news has suffered a severe butterslide of credibility from which it will be tough to recover.)

Not sure why, but I especially like this item from the Times obit:

When he was 16, Mr. Cronkite went with friends to Chicago for the 1933 World’s Fair. He volunteered to help demonstrate an experimental version of television.

“I could honestly say to all of my colleagues, ‘I was in television long before you were,’ ” he said in an interview with CBS News in 1996.

It was poignant to me how close Cronkite's death was to yesterday's 40th anniversary of the moon landing. It still makes me kind of giddy to think of him getting overwhelmed by the immensity of that achievement: this most articulate journalist blown away by the event to the point where he was "Oh jeez! Oh boy!" about it.



But I just found out about something that happened earlier last week that didn't get nearly as much attention. Jimmy Carter (remember him? President of the U.S. for a while?) separated himself from the Southern Baptist Convention because of its reaffirmation that women must be treated like second-class citizens.

A few excerpts from his statement:

I have been a practising Christian all my life and a deacon and Bible teacher for many years. My faith is a source of strength and comfort to me, as religious beliefs are to hundreds of millions of people around the world.

So my decision to sever my ties with the Southern Baptist Convention, after six decades, was painful and difficult. It was, however, an unavoidable decision when the convention's leaders, quoting a few carefully selected Bible verses and claiming that Eve was created second to Adam and was responsible for original sin, ordained that women must be "subservient" to their husbands and prohibited from serving as deacons, pastors or chaplains in the military service. This was in conflict with my belief - confirmed in the holy scriptures - that we are all equal in the eyes of God.

This view that women are somehow inferior to men is not restricted to one religion or belief. It is widespread. Women are prevented from playing a full and equal role in many faiths...

We are calling on all leaders to challenge and change the harmful teachings and practices, no matter how ingrained, which justify discrimination against women. We ask, in particular, that leaders of all religions have the courage to acknowledge and emphasise the positive messages of dignity and equality that all the world's major faiths share...

The truth is that male religious leaders have had - and still have - an option to interpret holy teachings either to exalt or subjugate women. They have, for their own selfish ends, overwhelmingly chosen the latter...

I don't often praise politicians (although I suppose that Carter could more fairly be described as a former politician) but I gotta give credit where it's due: thanks, President Carter. Hope people listen.

Back from Boca

I had to go dark for a while because of that trip I made for the dayjob.  Did I mention this?  It went just fine - quite well actually, as these things go - but it was exhausting, and frustrating at times, and I'm glad to be back.  Really glad.  No photos from that trip, natch, but soon I should be able to post an image or two from our day trip to New Paltz last weekend.

Meanwhile, it is AMAZING this weekend in New York.  I've been relaxing and handling some errands, going out with Cory; went to see the Neos last night, and we even met with a couple friends afterwards.  But mostly relaxing.  Baaaad and boring blog material, but good for me, and kind of necessary.

Independence Addendum

As I was recently reminded, the 4th of July weekend also saw me be initiated to the Guitar Hero video game, and was Cory's first experience playing Wii.

Fortunately, there is no photographic evidence of those events...

4th of July, Just South of Asbury Park

In New Hope, Pennsylvania, as it happened.

It was pretty much a good old fashioned Fourth of July: barbecue in the back yard, tubing on the river (the Delaware river, very near where Washington made his fabled crossing during the Revolution), concert in a big field, followed by fireworks.  Small town fireworks, at that: not nearly as spectacular as the big city variety, but just as much fun in their own way, in among the balloons and the smell of bug spray and the folding picnic tables with stars and stripes paper tablecloths, and the annoying family nearby who kept moving the garbage can closer to us.

We entered the scene as Carl was making some jam.  He had a question about the process, so before I'd even been properly introduced, I was on the phone to mom for some guidance.  She steered us in the direction of a paraffin seal (which saved us a bunch of time and trouble) and not too much later we had us a batch of blueberry jam.

We had brought a case of beer and a bottle of spiced rum (drink of choice of our hosts) and continued to give good help in the kitchen, and it's good that we did, because Carl and Kevin outdid themselves with the hospitality.  SO much fun, and at the perfect time, right between Hamlet and the crazy dayjob Voyage to Boca.

They also have a couple of fun cats to liven up the joint.  Yes, yes, I'm allergic to cats, but it was a big place, and I took drugs to help me through it.  And they were some photogenic felines too, so we had that going for us.  Which is nice.

Here's Oliver, who's a little camera-shy:


And here's Rudy, who came right up to say hi:

And the backyard even had some nice hydrangeas. 

Throw in a late brunch at a Mexican place in Lambertville, NJ with Jen and Charles (love those guys!) and a good drive in both directions with my best gal in the passenger seat and it made for a damn fine holiday.

So, alright, this is an awfully conventional blog entry, but what can I say?  It was Independence Day.  How 'bout if I throw in an appeal to exercise your patriotic duty and contact the President to let him know that indefinite detention is unacceptable (and Unconstitutional.)  

And yes, we listened to The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle on the morning of the 4th.

Last Day of June

Which means it's Sherin's birthday. And not just that, it's her GOLDEN birthday, which is extra-super-special, and everyone should celebrate at least through the 4th of July about it!

I don't have any photos of her on this computer, which is odd, but there you have it.

Instead, in honor of Sherin's Path Toward a Life in Policy, here's a Todd Purdum article from Vanity Fair on the most (in)famous woman in American Politics currently. If it were made-up, it would be unbelievable. Welcome to the Alfalfa Club, on crazy island!

One Night in Rome

On this Saturday, I'm enjoying something I haven't had much of for quite a while - a little old-fashioned chill time. After listening to a live LP recorded in 1981 by a certain five brothers (one of whom may have been off the wall, but had not yet gone over the edge) and reflecting for a few moments on the angel who launched a million posters, I'm now watching the Red Sox take on the Braves (did Tim Wakefield really just slap an outside fastball up the middle for a single??) and figure I can pop out another quick post.

Think of this installment as a trailer for a film.

In a World where beauty and history meet, four friends meet on May Day. Two have lived in the Eternal City their whole lives, two are there for the first time.




Claudia

Valter

and Cory


... in "One Night in Rome". They meet at the Piazza Colonna for an odyssey that will take them to the Pantheon, the Piazza Navona, the Castel Sant Angelo, the Vatican, then off the beaten path to the Aventine (including a secret keyhole on a door to nowhere) and Testacchio before winding up in Trastevere for revels in the center of Roman hipster culture. Four people, four walks of life, "One Night in Rome" they'll never forget.

Ok, so it might not be ready for a theater near you (and apologies to 10cc), but it was a pretty awesome afternoon/evening. We met Claudia and Valter at a reception after a screening of a documentary about Lucinda Childs at the BAC (that event probably deserves an entry of its own, but I can't write about everything.) Valter is an Afro-Cuban percussionist (not a musical style typically identified with Rome, true, but he's been doing it since he inherited a congo from the drummer in his first rock band in high school, and he now performs with a couple of bands and teaches students of all levels. Claudia is a dancer/choreographer, trained at the Academia Nacionale, who has worked in all manner of dance; currently, she's working in television, being the assistant choreographer for Amici, which is a big hit Italian TV show in its 7th season: think mashup of American Idol, So You Think You can Dance, and Real World. It shoots at the legendary Cinecitta Studio, everybody sings and dances, and all the contestants live together in a big dorm, and rather than having the judges be 2 "good cops" and 1 "bad cop" there is a panel of more than 10 judges, who make Simon Cowell look like a source of gentle support. Or so they say. She gets more airtime than most of the choreographic team, because she works with the contestants in the dorm as well as in the studio. We didn't have a chance to watch the show, although I'm sure there must be a way to track it down online.

They took us all over the place and we had a fantastic time with them. For part of the evening, we traveled in their car, which meant we got to parts of the city we probably wouldn't have been able to manage on our own, including a beautiful park/orange grove that overlooked the city, and the aforementioned keyhole, part of an old monastery that is now adjacent to the German (?) Embassy. But most amazing of all was the swing through Testacchio, where we saw not only the Mountain Made of Pottery Shards for which it's most famous, but ate a meal unlike any I've ever had at Il Scopatarro. Valter used to live in Testacchio (they now live in Ostia with their two kids) and they've been going to that place for years. I may have to write a whole other entry about this dinner, but for now suffice it to say: 1) it's better to go there with Romans (or at least Italians - the waiter argued with them/us at every turn; evidently they are not used to serving Americans the authentic Roman feast) 2) the food went on for miles; 3) the artichokes were incredible - huge, delicious, and so tender you could eat every crumb from stem to leaves; and 4) we ate parts of animals that are not always considered food.

To wrap up, here is a photo of all of us that we took at a monument I can't remember the name of. It was kind of a make-out spot for Romans of all ages, but for us it was a photo op, using the camera's self-timer. It's a crazy exposure, and both Claudia's and my head is cut off, but I kind of like it.

Back to Rome

So, ok, I've been obsessed with Hamlet lately (don't forget - the show's this weekend! Come see it if you are around.) But I am too busy in my other life to write another letter to the King of Norway right now.

So here's another viddy of Cory and me at the Trevi Fountain, ensuring our return to Roma:

Whether the Weather is cold...

A bizarrely saddening set of statistics, courtesy Sherin:

Average June rainfall for New York City: 3.84"

2009 June rainfall for New York : 5.41" and counting

May had 14 days of "light rain" and 6 days of "heavy rain."

Sherin's conclusion: NYC needs some sun lamps and prozac. Whatever the prescription, this weather is unnecessary, wouldn't you say? It hath made me mad. Share the wealth, Mother Nature!

I Claudius, part 2

Your Royal Majesty Norway,

Thank you for calling off Fortinbras and his dogs. I was just certain that you had scarcely even heard of his army's aggression.

As for your request of safe passage through our territory to ease your move against Poland, have at it! We'll fortify the path; as you know, I have no love for that stupid Polack. Hey, you know what might be a great idea? The naval route goes right by Elsinore - maybe you could have Fortinbras direct his forces to go by sea the whole way there. I would arrange for a parade, a cannon salute to your fleet, the works. And it might be a little easier on my citizens, who, if you'll permit me to be completely frank about it, are a little tired of warlike sights and sounds.

Meanwhile, how is the rest of your family? Gertrude is lovely and sends her best, naturally. Hamlet... well... let's just say that there are days I envy the fact that your nephew is running around with the army. I mean, I'm glad he stayed here (his mother really appreciated it too) but he just seems to be on the verge of being unhinged. Or not to be. It's a mystery to me: one day he'll be fine, but on the whole he's acting WEIRD. Really, I think he would benefit greatly from getting out of the palace and just doing something once in a while. We've brought over a couple of his friends to try to get him involved a little more. I don't know much about them personally: they seem fairly uninspired to me, but Gertrude insists that they were thick as thieves with Hamlet when they were younger. They'll also provide additional sets of eyes and ears, in case they can figure out what's at the root of his distemper. (It can't be just his father's death, right? It's been three months!)

Polonius thinks it's puppy love. (Oh, Polonius sends his most heartfelt regards as well.) His daughter Ophelia and Hamlet have carried on some kind of flirtation, it seems, and Polonius is convinced that the fact that he advised her to withhold her affections is pushing Hamlet over the edge. I don't know... Ophelia is an impressive young lady, rather stunning actually (do you remember her? I think you met her when her brother Laertes won that fencing tournament in Oslo) but still, that is a farfetched explanation, in my opinion. Polonius has concocted one of his patented schemes to observe their interaction, and I'm going along with it. Can't hurt, right?

Once again, we guarantee safe passage through Denmark to your troops, and to that we add Royal wishes for your health and long life.

Claudius/Denmark

I, Claudius (for Hamlet fans)

High and Mighty, King of Norway,

Hail and Long Life. Thank you for the kind expression of sympathy for my brother Hamlet's untimely demise. It was a tough blow for us all, but we're adjusting as best as we can.

Thank you also for your generous wedding gift! It was unexpected and unnecessary, but very very welcome to our household. You can never have too many rosemalled beer mugs!

The ceremony was great, thanks for asking. There was a certain amount of introspection, of course, as Hamlet's death was actually rather recent when you think about it. His son, young Hamlet, is still being a total downer about it. I mean, I guess you can't blame him in a way, but he really seems to be a completely different person - somber and sober and grumpy all the time. It's making his mother pretty upset too; honestly, I think that's what bothers me most. Still, she and I had a fantastic wedding, and I wish your health had allowed you to be there. We put those beer mugs to good use! In fact, to celebrate Hamlet's decision to stay in Denmark, we finished the party off by blasting cannons whenever we drank a toast. Everybody had a great time. Well, maybe not Junior, but everyone else did.

Speaking of exploding cannons, I'm not sure whether you're aware that your nephew Fortinbras has been marching an army across my kingdom and rattling on that we need to surrender the lands that you and your brother assigned to us in the Copenhagen Accords. I know that Fortinbras is kind of a hothead, but that treaty was signed, sealed and delivered with the full force of law. Cool him off, would you please? We don't want to go to another war over something that was settled to everyone's benefit ages ago, and we really can't have him threatening our territory.

And with that, I'll sign off for now. All best wishes for your improved health. I know you Norwegians have the best health care going on - they'll tend to you brilliantly.

With Gracious Goodwill,
Claudius the Dane

The Rise of the Wackos

Nicely done, guys.

You wanted to oppose late-term abortions. "Killing babies" and all, you said. SO - you killed a guy. At his church, no less. Brilliant! "No place indeed should murder sanctuarize" and all.

And now, what do you know? His family is so terrified that they are closing the clinic permanently. A clinic that provided all types of health care to women, including expextant mothers. And so you have succeeded. A stunning achievement.

This, of course, is a victory not just for the heroes actually willing to shoot doctors and bomb clinics and churches. It is a victory for all who have the courage to put themselves out on a limb, shouting and screaming and hurling abuse - verbal, physical and psychological - at women in what might be their time of greatest need.

Congratulations. You now have concrete results for your actions! People will respect you now. Not like those abortion opponents who express a thoughtful point of view in civil discourse. Those wimps are fading into the past. One could respectfully disagree with them, but no one actually feared them. You can find them in a room brimming with pent-up frustration along with the New York State Senate.

But you! You have successfully struck fear into millions, including some of the most vulnerable members of society. There is no useful definition of 'terrorist' that does not include you. How proud you must be.

Update: your follow-up is another stroke of genius. Declare that victory loud and proud, heroes.

Sad Follow-up

Bizarre news about Ara Pacis: seems some vandals took issue with the design. Or something. Even the almost-Fascist Mayor of Rome condemned that act (though he's still negotiating to have Meier 'revise' his design.)

I don't know. Positive spin: it's cool to see somebody get so worked up over architecture? Yeah, that's a pretty weak argument. Bottom line: this temple was more than half buried for 1,600 years - nobody's afraid of a little paint.