Well, I am even more out of the loop than usual. I have just come back to Memphis having had the privilege of accompanying 15 Stax Music Academy high school students on their Summer Soul Tour Presented by FedEx to Australia and I have not seen one American television show or news broadcast and I have not picked up one American newspaper in two weeks. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am — or was …
This week, Tim takes on Aussies, Stax, LAX, George Bush, and Obama.
Not that I am really all that worked up about this, because I am just too old and tired now to get all that worked up about very much (I no longer even shudder when I see George Bush dancing and chest-slamming people in other parts of the world who already think — and justifiably, I might add — that we are a clan of global misfits), but I think if I hear the words “delegate” or “super delegate” one more time I am going to turn into a porcupine, take some acid, lift myself into the sky, and propel myself downward like a weapon of mass destruction — that really exists — and land in the most crowded mall parking lot I can find. And I hope I experience unnaturally spasmodic spinning spells while it is happening. Well, maybe I am a little worked up. And I do still shudder every time I see George Bush’s face in print, on television, on the Internet, or in my own personal nightmares. I try not to let him rile me up as much, now that he’s going bye-bye, but it’s hard.
Still, I have to ask: Is it just me, or does anyone else find it odd that the voting system here is still based on the premise of the right for people to “own” African men, women, and children who were brought here to this magnificent New World to be shackled, whipped, beaten, humiliated, raped, bought, and sold as slaves? That would be the Electoral College, which is going to decide which candidate becomes the next president of the United States. No, your vote in the popular (depending on your definition of that word) election is worth about as much as mine: marginal. Oh, believe me, I know it’s a bit more complicated. I know the “small states” have a stake in keeping the system the way it is, so the candidates will pay attention to them, as well as the states the candidates know up-front they can’t possibly lose or win, even though you can access their every move, thought, word, and haircut via our constant information overload. But what the hell happened to this idea that every vote counts and, as the adage goes, “If you don’t vote, then you have no right to complain about who gets elected?” I don’t even know who the “delegates” are who are representing me in the upcoming presidential election. I’ve Googled it until I cannot Google anymore and can’t find one single name. Who are these people who are going to “vote for the candidate I voted for” and where did they come from? I sure hope I don’t know any of them personally if they are reading this. That would be awkward at a cocktail party, should I ever attend another one. I hope none of them is from, God forbid, East Tennessee. By the way, I really can’t stand East Tennessee, even though I have friends and relatives who live there. Sure, it has those beautiful mountains and rivers and gorgeous trees in the fall, but the last time I was there I stopped at a little restaurant (okay, Shoney’s) for coffee, and the waitress asked, “Are you-uns ready to order yet?” I kid you not. I was incredulous. But that was back when I was a lot younger and was easily worked up. I would find that kind of charming now. But I wouldn’t want someone who says “you-uns” representing me and my vote at the Democratic convention this summer. The Electoral College system, as many of you know, started out to help the slave-owning Southern states have more representation in the presidential election, because so many of their citizens were slaves and were not allowed to vote. We almost got rid of it in 1969, when Congress overwhelmingly and bipartisanly voted to do away with it. But it got stymied by Strom Thurmond and some of his segregationist pals. Despite the fact that Americans like to think of themselves as citizens of the most progressive country in the world, we still employ this system of voting, which was a direct result of our Founding Fathers’ constitutional compromise to count a slave as “three-fifths” of a human being to represent the states where they were held captive. I’m so glad we are not liberal like the French.
It renders me politically listless to know that someone who owns a “Taters ‘N Stuff” bin could actually be representing me as an Electoral College delegate. It’s difficult enough in this world to JUST GET BY (and I put that in all caps because I mean it). But having to vote in an election in which my vote is subject to the whims of some unknown person who might be a total freak of nature is something I find hard to abide. Someone please tell me that I am wrong and that my vote really does count. I’m afraid I’m going to get worked up.
I have a 4-year-old daughter who has an amazing gift for telling fanciful tales, making them up on the fly to fit any situation. I’m thinking of loaning her storytelling services to Attorney General Alberto Gonzales, since it’s clear she tells much better stories than he does.
I’m not sure I can recall anything so irritatingly painful to watch as Gonzales’ testimony before Congress last week.
A lot of attention is being paid to Gonzales’ account of his 2004 nighttime hospital visit to see then-Attorney General John Ashcroft. Oh, he wasn’t there to talk about the Terrorist Surveillance Program with an incapacitated Ashcroft; he was there to talk about another secret program he can’t talk about, because it’s classified. But of course he didn’t talk about any classified material in an insecure hospital room in front of Ashcroft’s wife. He would tell us more, but it’s classified.
Too bad his account is being disputed by nearly everyone involved, including FBI director Robert Mueller and then-acting Attorney General James Comey. But what may be the final nail in his coffin is a document from the director of National Intelligence at the time, John Negroponte, that disputes there was some other surveillance program under discussion.
In other words, if Gonzales really believes he was talking about a different secret program, then Ashcroft wasn’t the only person in the room who was heavily medicated.
And while this part of Gonzales’ testimony is the most legally troubling, I found another part even more disturbing: Questioned by Senator Diane Feinstein about the firing of U.S. attorneys, Gonzales could not answer the basic questions of how many attorneys had been fired — or what they were fired for.
This scandal over the firing of these attorneys has been raging for months. It has been the subject of several congressional hearings, has led to the resignations of six people, and even has Republicans calling for Gonzales to go.
You would think that given all that, Gonzales would have been prepared to answer such simple questions. His dodgy replies made him look like a complete imbecile in front of the entire country.
His testimony leaves only two possible conclusions: Either he is the most incompetent attorney to ever hold a government job or he is hiding something so shocking and dangerous that he’s willing to purposely destroy his reputation and even risk perjury charges to keep it secret.
My bet’s on the latter.
If Gonzales were this incompetent, I can’t see how even his good friend George W. Bush could stand by him. Not only is Bush resisting bipartisan pressure to fire Gonzales, he’s giving him a strong vote of confidence, well beyond “Heckuva job, Brownie” status.
You’ve heard of honor among thieves. It works for liars, too.
At every turn, Bush and his associates are at war with the truth. The president’s every utterance on the war in Iraq has to be sifted to remove the falsehoods. He gives Scooter Libby a get-out-of-jail-free card for his lies. Vice President Dick Cheney can’t seem to pass up an open microphone without making up claims out of thin air. And the attorney general, the person who is in charge of the department that prosecutes people for dishonesty, has become so outrageously dishonest that it’s a wonder he hasn’t been struck by lightning yet.
What Bush, Gonzales & Co. are learning now is the lesson of the boy who cried wolf, that after having been caught lying so many times, no one believes what they say, not even a sizable chunk of their own party. Whatever statements they make — even on important matters of war and national security — are open to increasing skepticism because they continue to abuse the truth, over and over.
That means at a very basic level, they have lost the ability to govern, to carry out policies, and to do the work of the people. We no longer have a viable president, vice president, or attorney general. They are dead weight, an anchor on the ship of state that prevents moving forward and repairing the damage they have wrought. If they truly believed in the oath of office they took, they would lock themselves up in prison for the good of the country.
But since they are incapable of holding anyone accountable for their actions, they will continue along their merry, destructive way until Congress grows a backbone and impeaches the lot of them.
Kirk Caraway is editor of nevadapolitics.com and writes a blog on national issues at kirkcaraway.com.
Please bear with me until the large-animal tranquilizer I just took kicks in. It had better hurry up and take effect because if I look at one more newspaper, see one more television news broadcast, or visit one more Web page that chronicles the condition of George W. Bush’s colon, I think I am going to have a nervous breakdown. Yep, it seems like every time I look up I am looking down his, well, uh, I guess there’s no other way to put it, butt. This is even worse than when Dick Cheney had some sort of foot surgery a couple of years ago and the news kept reporting on it and showing his big white flabby feet. Must all of this be a matter of public record? Can the man not have a colonoscopy in private without the world having to know about it? I know that White House “probes” are often controversial, but really, can’t we be spared this one? Surely, there is more to report on than this, like the newly enhanced interrogation program on which Bush just signed off, which probably includes making suspected terrorists read about his colon. (I know if I had to put up with it much longer I would tell all.) I guess it had to make the news because he gave up his presidential power during the roughly (ha ha, I said “roughly”) half-hour surgery. And I’m not sure which is scarier: being barraged with stories about W’s colon or the fact that Dick Cheney had complete control of the country for that length of time. At least, much like the president usually is, Cheney was relaxing at his vacation home during the operation. And, apparently, Bush had a pretty good time during all this as well. Every account reports that he was “in good humor” right after having the tube inserted into his colon, and that shortly afterward he put on a pair of jeans, had breakfast with another man, and then went for a walk with his dog and the man. Sounds like an average day on Fire Island to me. And funny, isn’t it, that his wife Laura wasn’t around for this? She was conveniently away visiting her mother for her birthday. Wife gone, anus probed, breakfast and walk with another man? Wearing jeans and probably his cowboy boots? Dick in charge and relaxing at the beach? Is this the early 1980s all over again? Does this give “Camp” David a whole new meaning? And that genius of geniuses Ann Coulter has the nerve to make remarks about John Edwards? At least he got his wife pregnant more than once. But enough of this. I am just displaying tunnel vision (ha ha, I said “tunnel”). But it does give me hope. If someone was able to get George W. Bush loosened up enough for this, maybe someone can convince him that he needs to resign from his job, take his shingle down from the Oval Office, and head back to his ranch for good and just play cowboy — or play with the cowboys. And for heaven’s sake, start drinking again.
Maybe if someone would give him a DVD of Blazing Saddles and make him watch the scene where all the characters are sitting around the campfire drinking and eating beans and passing gas he would take the idea and run with it. He would be so good at that, and I think people would actually like him. And he needs to be good at something, because he has proven that he’s not so great at what he is doing now. Maybe there would be a different kind of light at the end of the tunnel. But keep the colon healthy, George. Even if it is just for 31 minutes, we do not want the Dick in charge. No ifs, ands, or butts.
It’s been said often that while everyone is entitled
to his own opinion, no one is entitled to his own facts. Today, we
hear misstatements all the time. Some of them are deliberate lies. Some of them are
just mistakes.
A House committee has just exposed the terrible fact that Army officials fabricated a story about the death of Pat Tillman and lied through their teeth. The Army knew from day one that Tillman died from so-called friendly fire, but it was five weeks before Army officials got around to telling the family.
In the meantime, the Army falsified a citation to give him a Silver Star at his memorial service, which was turned into a media event — conveniently timed, his family now believes, to distract attention from the scandal of Abu Ghraib prison.
Tillman did not die fighting the enemy. He died from American bullets. The girl from West Virginia, Jessica Lynch, hailed as a female Rambo, in fact was knocked unconscious in a vehicle wreck before she ever had a chance to fire a shot. She woke up in an Iraqi hospital. To her credit, as soon as she recovered from her serious injuries, she always told the truth. The story had been spread by a “government source” that she had fought heroically until the last bullet.
Lies and faulty memories (Attorney General Alberto Gonzales testified under oath 71 times that he could not recall or recollect) should not be tolerated even by this pathologically tolerant society. Mistakes can be forgiven, but deliberate lies are hostile acts. The liar is trying to subvert your mind and manipulate you into a position favorable to him. Calling a man a liar was once an act that would prompt a duel, but today people seem to shrug it off.
Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina recently misstated some information about Saddam Hussein in his attempt to defend the president’s position. He said, for example, that Saddam fired “at our planes every day in defiance of U.N. resolutions.” Not true. The no-fly zones were never authorized or approved by the Security Council. They were imposed by George H.W. Bush.
After the end of Gulf War I, the CIA grossly miscalculated the damage done to Saddam’s army. Consequently, the CIA urged the Shiites and the Kurds to rise up in rebellion and finish off Saddam’s government. When Saddam’s army began to slaughter both the Shiites and the Kurds, an embarrassed U.S. hurriedly imposed the no-fly zones.
Graham said Hussein sent checks to the families of suicide bombers in Palestine. This is a partial truth. Saddam had been sending checks to the families of all Palestinians killed in the struggle for independence before the suicide-bombing tactic was taken up. He was not subsidizing terror. He was subsidizing the Palestinian struggle against Israeli occupation.
The members of the House and Senate have great resources available to them. Not only do they have large staffs, but there are also the Congressional Research Service, the Government Accountability Office, the great Library of Congress, and the Congressional Budget Office. It seems they should have no excuse for not getting their facts straight.
The problem is that most of them, most of the time, concentrate on getting reelected. In the 18th and 19th centuries, a contemptuous description of such people was “officeholders.” Seems mild, but it was meant to separate the statesmen from the politicians with no agenda but their own political welfare.
It’s impossible to have a legitimate debate about anything if the participants lie, don’t know the basic facts of the issue, or deliberately distort their opponents’ position. Self-government is the most difficult of all the forms of government, and it requires honesty on everyone’s part to function.
I was traveling last week, and everywhere I went, American flags were flying at half-mast in response to President Bush’s order to lower the flag in honor of the deaths of 32 students at Virginia Tech University.
In the airports, television screens endlessly replayed video footage of the mass murderer’s “explanation” for his senseless rampage. People watched, shook their heads, and went back to their magazines or paperbacks.
President Bush’s order got a somewhat different response from an Army sergeant named Jim Wilt, who is stationed in Afghanistan. “I find it ironic,” Wilt wrote, “that the flags were flown at half-staff for the young men and women who were killed at VT, yet it is never lowered for the death of a U.S. service member.”
He noted that his post in Bagram obeyed the president’s order even though the flag is not lowered for members of his unit who are killed in combat. He reasoned that it was because “it is a daily occurrence these days to see X number of U.S. troops killed in Iraq or Afghanistan scrolling across the ticker at the bottom of the TV screen.”
Which is true. On the day of the VT massacre, the names of six U.S. servicemen killed in Iraq scrolled across our televisions. You know nothing about these men and women, and neither do I. The only thing we do know is that they died in service to the flag that was flying at half-mast for 32 dead students — whose names and photos were published in most newspapers around the country.
I think lowering the flag for the students was the right action for the president to take. But I find it ironic that he can go to a memorial service for fallen students yet not find the time to attend the funeral of a single soldier who has died in the horrific fiasco he and his minions have created in Iraq.
I understand the impracticality of lowering the flag for each of the 3,700 men and women killed in Iraq and Afghanistan. If we did so, it would be permanently at half-mast.
Which, come to think of it, is probably appropriate these days.
Well, I thought I had made it go away. I stopped reading Google news. I almost stopped reading all newspapers. I stopped watching the television broadcast news. I almost stopped listening to other people’s conversations. But then, like a bad sinus infection that never really goes away, it came back. I didn’t mean
for it to happen. I walked into my den Sunday morning and the television was on and it happened to be on one of the political talk shows, and, while I was certain that it would be focusing on the trials and tribulations of Don Imus, it was a show featuring an interview with none other than Vice President Dick Cheney. It was totally surreal. And it was not surreal because he had been on Air Force One burning a lot of fuel a few days before to go to some kind of weird fund-raiser to make his case for MORE WAR, MORE WAR, MORE WAR. It was surreal because a bird slammed into the plane’s engine while it was landing in Chicago, which can make said engine catch on fire. Anyone else might have been hurt. But not the Dick! The man can have a heart attack once a year and still be fine, albeit with no heart. Well, now, I take that back. He did stop on the way back to Washington with his daughter Liz to shop for one of his granddaughters and, in the process, took time out to let someone take photographs of the spree. I can’t fathom, however, why he was purchasing, according to the Associated Press, a “doll with a Western cowboy hat and get-up.” Now, that is sweet. His plane’s engine gets smacked by a bird (poor bird), he gives a mean speech about the Democrats (who aren’t much better than he is these days), and he still has time to buy one of his granddaughters a cowboy doll. May I remind you that this is the vice president of the United States, the country in which most of you live and whose government rules control much of your life? The only country in the world where someone from Europe is a desirable tourist but someone from one foot south of the Texas border is an “alien.” But now back to cowboy dolls for little girls. Does this seem odd to anyone else? Is Cheney’s nose so far up the ass of someone we all know and not love that he must shove upon his innocent granddaughter a doll in the psychological likeness of “brang ‘im to me did ur aliiiiiive” George Bush? Or maybe it was supposed to represent a border-patrol cowboy trying to save us from them terrible aliens! Or a contract worker hired by a company that Cheney owns! Maybe it was a cowboy doll that keeps people from shooting each other and it was just a damn bit too little too late! At any rate, seeing him on the television show was startling in a way, because normally he stays hunkered down in the basement trying to dodge all of the terrorist rockets that are flying our (or his, I should say) way through the sky every waking moment of the day. And he actually said that he had not spoken to his boyfriend Scooter since Scooter got popped for outing the CIA agent and was sentenced to prison. May I remind you that Scooter was the chief of staff for the vice president of the United States and that, yes, his name is Scooter? Maybe he was buying that cowboy doll for Scooter to ease his guilt and so Scooter could have a little companion while in lockup. A little cowboy to keep him company in his time of trouble. Better than being married to the white-collar man with the most cigarettes, I guess. But can you imagine being in prison and having someone shout your name and it is Scooter? Scooter the Pooter! Make me another shooter! How sad. How sad for us all. But at least the Dick bought the cowboy doll and had it photographed. Ow! (I just slapped my own forehead.) Now I know why he bought the little girl a cowboy doll. It wasn’t for THAT granddaughter!
Okay, it is the first Monday morning of this thing called Daylight Savings Time, which means I just lost an hour
of precious sleeping time, and I can’t help but think this has corporate greed writ-ten all over it. I’m not sure exactly how, but I know it must. Why on earth else would it be happening? Somehow,
I get the feeling that people in Texas are responsible for this, and that makes it even worse. To think that my life is being controlled by Texas sends shivers up my spine. Or worse yet, it could be Florida. Well, I am revolting (save it, save it). Or at least I would like to revolt. Whatever happened to the spirit of people revolting? Isn’t that how this country was formed, despite the way it has turned out? Wasn’t that what the American Revolution and the Boston Tea Party were all about? What has happened to everyone? I’m not talking about rioting or burning buildings or any other kind of violence, but why should we sit back and take marching orders from people just because they issue them? I was going to stay out of the Memphis Light, Gas and Water fray, just because it seems like such a mundane thing to complain about at this point and just writing or saying something would do no good, but now it is to the point of either paying my house note or having hot water and lights. Yep, I live on the “edge” of a very nice neighborhood, so, of course, I am being totally screwed like so many other people. So my question is, what would happen if everyone who owes MLGW money just simply didn’t pay it for a couple of months? Would they cut off the power of everyone in the city, save for the chosen few on their list of people not to cut off? Do they have the manpower to cancel the utilities of 800,000 people or thereabouts at one time? At least if they did, we would all be in the dark together and they might rethink their billing process. Oh, and speaking of which, have you noticed how they change the monthly billing date at their leisure? For years, mine was during the third week of the month, after the 15th of the month paycheck. Now it comes before that so they can collect a late fee if it’s not paid until after the 15th. I assume this is the case for some of the rest of you. I, for one, would be willing to join in a citywide revolt and not pay and just let them see what happens. Short of that, I want MLGW to call me and let me know when the meter reader will be on site so I can be there to witness it. I want to know how a 1,500-square-foot house with no dishwasher, one resident who is home only at night, and a thermostat that has never once been set over 62 degrees all winter could possibly generate $500 in power in one month. Are my cats turning on the lights during the daytime while I’m at work? (Well, that wouldn’t really surprise me, since they managed to open a window and tear the screen off of it just to sit three feet away from it wondering how to get back in.) I want an explanation, and I want it now. And while we are at it, the ol’ income tax filing time is right around the corner again. I have never been one of those people who thinks taxes are evil in every way, but if the government is going to take money out of my hard-earned income, why shouldn’t I have some say in how it is spent, like when a donor specifies to which charity his or her money goes and how it is allocated. Is one penny of my income tax going to pay the salary of Dick Cheney? Is it helping pay for all of the FEMA trailers to sit unused while people are still living on the Gulf Coast in tents? Does my income tax help make it possible for Condoleezza Rice to have her helmet hair styled? Does it help fund the debate about whether or not our soldiers must be trained and provided with necessary equipment before being sent into battle in a dangerous war that no one evens knows why we’re in? (I almost fell off of the sofa when I heard that there was actual argument about the proper training and equipment.) Because if the portion of my income Uncle Sam is taking from me is actually helping pay for any of that, then I am going to sue someone. I might just be the first person in the United States to hire a lawyer and sue George Bush and Dick Cheney on the grounds of causing me undue emotional stress for being forced against my will to fund the murder of people. Not to mention Condi’s hair. Talk about a crime against humanity.
Memphians might remember Bud Cummins as the federal prosecutor who came over from Little Rock two years ago to try the strange case of former Shelby County medical examiner Dr. O.C. Smith.
Last week, Cummins was in the national news on another strange case — the case of the fired federal prosecutors who were purged by the U.S. Justice Department under President Bush. Under subpoena and the bright lights of C-SPAN, Cummins and five other former prosecutors testified before House and Senate committees in Washington.
In an exclusive interview with the Flyer, Cummins talked about the “painful process.” A lifelong Republican, he served as U.S. attorney in Little Rock for five years, until he was notified last June that he was being replaced in December.
“This is the kind of thing you convince yourself only happens in the other party,” he said. “But the truth is, from time to time it is no longer a question of party, it is a question of right or wrong.”
Cummins said he was not questioning the right of the president and attorney general to replace federal prosecutors, but he resents the way it was done.
“The way they chose to implement the decisions was incompetent,” he said. “The way they have attempted to defend themselves to Congress has been unfair to some of the individuals involved.”
Cummins told the congressional committees that “a senior Justice Department official warned him on February 20th that the fired prosecutors should remain quiet about their dismissals.” Cummins said he was warned that administration officials would “pull their gloves off and offer public criticisms to defend their actions more fully.”
Cummins was fired in order to provide a job for Tim Griffin, a former aide to Bush adviser Karl Rove and an opposition researcher for the Republican Party. Cummins told the Flyer that the heavy-handedness creates an impression of political interference that will be hard to combat.
“Once you lose your credibility, people start second-guessing every decision you make,” he said.
He added that he is grateful to President Bush for the opportunity to be a U.S. attorney and “not critical at all for him giving someone else that opportunity. That is the nature of the job. You can be up there throwing strikes, but if the manager takes the ball from you, that is the way it goes. Ultimately, it’s the manager’s call.”
As a prosecutor, Cummins and colleague Patrick Harris showed guts in trying the O.C. Smith case after local prosecutors either passed on it or recused themselves because of their working relationship with the medical examiner. Smith was accused of staging a bizarre incident in which he was found bound with barbed wire and a homemade bomb outside his office. The government elected not to retry the case, although Cummins said he was prepared to do so.
At trial, Cummins had to deal with several witnesses from the police department and district attorney general’s office who were protecting Smith, whose lawyers claimed he was attacked and bound by a lone assailant. Smith did not take the stand. His alleged attacker is still at large but has not struck again.
In an interview with the Flyer in 2005, Cummins defended Bush and the attorney general as “absolutely intolerant of prosecutors engaging in political activity of any kind. If you can’t leave politics at the door, you shouldn’t come here or you won’t last.”
In hindsight, he gave his bosses too much credit.
The purge of federal prosecutors is especially troubling for Memphis and unfair to U.S. attorney David Kustoff and assistant U.S. attorney Tim Discenza. Even though all the Memphis and Shelby County politicians indicted so far in Tennessee Waltz and Main Street Sweeper have been black Democrats, Kustoff, Discenza, and FBI agent in charge My Harrison have promised to be nonpolitical. Since the investigations are ongoing, they deserve to be taken at their word. But the treatment of Cummins and his seven colleagues makes that hard to do.
Okay. I have had it with the climbers. They are eating away a piece of my soul. I saw the other day that yet another group of people made the brilliant decision to make the difficult trek up Mount Hood in Oregon in a blinding snowstorm. Maybe it wasn’t snowing when they started their climb. And maybe the
snow wasn’t even predicted. I don’t know. But, damn it, it is WINTER, and it snows in winter, and when you get on that mountain, as we’ve seen in recent months, it can snow, and if you are climbing, you are screwed. But no. This other group made the climb, one of them fell off a cliff, the others got banged up, they almost froze to death, and rescue teams had to spend who knows how much money and manpower to rescue them. Well, they are idiots. And instead of being told that by the media, they were heralded as heroes for surviving, and they spent a great amount of time on television being interviewed about what it was like to be stranded on the mountain in the snow. I wish I had been the one interviewing them so I could have asked them why they were stupid enough to climb the mountain in the snow and why they couldn’t just spend their time sitting in a bar and smoking like normal people. I almost said that to someone from Los Angeles visiting Memphis recently. She asked the age-old obnoxious out-of-towner question in that really whiny, horrible tone of voice: “Where are all the people in Memphis? Why aren’t people out walking everywhere?” I was having to be nice, so I bit my tongue. I really wanted to say, “Shut up! They’re all in bars smoking and eating cheeseburgers like real people. Put your freaking BlackBerry down, get off of your cellphone, and shut up about people not being on the street walking! And they’re not out climbing a mountain in a freaking zero-visibility blizzard! They’re probably at home watching American Idol and wondering why Paula Abdul looks like she spent the show’s season break somewhere in a jungle subsisting on nothing more than plants whose makeup includes some incredibly hallucinogenic properties that haven’t worn off yet. Her inexplicably bad facial work does not really help, either, not to mention that appearance on a television news broadcast out of Seattle during which she appeared to have robbed a pharmacy. Oh, how I wish I had been with her, because she was obviously feeling no pain whatsoever. If so, those bangs of hers would be killing her face. People here are not out walking because they are at home drinking and smoking and watching the latest news on Anna Nicole Smith, so just shut up!” Speaking of which, I have not been following that saga, but I do wonder if they have buried her body yet. And I swear I did look up at the television the other morning and saw a judge-turned-news-analyst and I KNEW HER. Ah, the six degrees of separation or Kevin Bacon — or whatever it is. I hope she doesn’t know George Bush or Dick Cheney, because that would mean I know someone who knows them and that would make me queasy. Is George Bush still even the president? I think, other than mentioning him here, and I don’t know why I am doing that, I have pretty much successfully forgotten all about him. I did catch part of a press conference a few weeks ago, and I do believe that his eyes have gotten even more close together and monkey-like than they were the last time I saw him. And he still crosses them when someone asks him a question he doesn’t want to answer, either because he doesn’t understand it or have an answer or because it’s a question with only one answer and it’s one that’s going to make him appear to be even more stupid than he usually appears. If that is even possible at this point. But who cares anymore? He’s probably on vacation anyway. Maybe he will get off that mountain bike and go climb Mount Hood in a blizzard. One can only dream. In the meantime, I have to go catch the latest on Anna Nicole because I am actually the father of her baby.