Really

Recently we were all treated to the spectacle of George W. Bush not answering a question put to him by Helen Thomas: “Why did you really want to go to war [in Iraq]?” Today the Independent reports that the US and UK are establishing “enduring bases” there. I can hear GWB divvying them up:  “Two for you and four for me …” We are supposed to believe the new bases are not a reason GWB went to war. We are suppposed to forget that, immediately after the invasion in the spring of 2003, the US military began its exodus from Saudia Arabia, where its presence was a major irritant. This past week Condoleezza Rice admitted the US has made thousands of mistakes in Iraq, but insisted the invasion was “the right strategic decision.”

Here’s what it sounds like to me:

Cop: “Where did you get that stuff?”
Not-a-burglar: “What stuff?”
Cop: “That stuff—in your hands.”
Not-a-burglar: “What, this stuff?”
Cop: “Yeah, that stuff! Jewelry, cash, classic PEZ dispensers …”
Not-a-burglar: “Oh, that stuff. I found it.”
Cop: “Found it. In that big fancy house there, right?”
Not-a-burglar: “Maybe.”
Cop: “Whaddya mean, maybe? You were in that house.”
Not-a-burglar: [Nods imperceptibly]
Cop: “What were you doing in there?”
Not-a-burglar: “I thought I heard someone calling for help.”
Cop: “You thought you heard someone calling for help!”
Not-a-burglar: “Yeah.”
Cop: “So you broke a window and crawled in.”
Not-a-burglar: “Yeah. What would you have done?”
Cop: “And you didn’t find anyone calling for help.”
Not-a-burglar: “Unfortunately, no.”
Cop: “Unfortunately no?!”
Not-a-burglar: “I mean, fortunately, no.”
Cop: “You were happy no one was there, calling for help.”
Not-a-burglar: “What, you wanted there to be a human tragedy?”
Cop: “So, you think this stuff is yours?”
Not-a-burglar: “Like I said, I found it.
Cop: “C’mon, pal, cut the crap. Why did you really want to go into that house?”

Etc.—the farce continues (for much too long).

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Natural

The neighborhood squirrels like to hide black walnuts in our yard. I’m not sure where the nearest black walnut tree even is. Today one of them left something behind on the deck railing after its breakfast—sort of a nature morte.

Walnut Shell Nature Morte

The critter’s got a good eye.

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Ones

Laura sent an e-mail to a mutual friend, letting him know about a Terry Jones show on TV this week, The Story of One.

Here’s what she got back:

Ah yes, one.
It’s given us all a lot of trouble.
First the Jews turned it into a religion.
Then the Christians showed up and kept calling it three.
The Manicheans—remember the Manicheans?—kept insisting that it was really two halves that never belonged together.
Then the Muslims came along and all we ever heard was One One One.
Dreary.
With the Middle Ages things calmed down.
We kept our one faith over here, they kept their one faith over there.
Lots of ones but it seemed okay as long as we built high walls.
But after Mr. Fibbonaci came back from India with the zero, one never recovered.

Have you?

—from “From Zero to Ten in Five Theologies,” by
Msgr. Ambrose Poppensweet, S.S.R., L.L.T., P.G., and R.

 The dude’s got blogging potential, doncha think?

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Remorse

My buddy over at Newsrack Blog has an interesting post on regrets from folks who initially supported the Iraq invasion (including himself). I give them all a lot of credit. It’s not easy to admit a mistake.

But what mistake is it? Doing it, or not doing it right? Some of us continue to occupy a minuscule spit of land in the American political landscape: we opposed the impending Iraq invasion even if it might turn out to be successful (or should I say, especially if it were successful). Even if the US army had found evidence of a nuclear weapons program (which we doubted existed—why didn’t more “experts” call Saddam’s bluff?); even if the population had embraced the invaders as liberators and immediately formed a House of Representatives and a Senate (with two [virtually indistinguishable] parties and two parties only) and a Department of Health and Human Services and a Baghdad Chamber of Commerce and a Fox News Network etc.; even if the US ended up with military bases in a new, friendlier Iraq in order to project its democracy-building power in the rest of the region; even if a lot of supposedly good things came out of it—we would have been against the invasion. Especially if all those things came to pass. This sort of success in Iraq, a reward for invasion, would have harmed the United States—would have corroded its soul and besmirched its former ideals—more than its current failure.

This is not to say the failure in Iraq makes us happy. This is not to say we’re certain we were right to think what we thought then (and still think now). Maybe the imperial theorists have it right. Maybe we’re naive. But we certainly are sad about what we (the larger American e pluribus unum we) have done and what we have become, and disappointed that we (back to the little we) couldn’t prevent it. Maybe, amid the destruction and self-destruction, we’ve “done some good” in Iraq, as unrepentant war supporters insist; but what a way to do it. What a way to do good.

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Basking

It’s so nice to stumble on some good news. I think I’ll sit back and enjoy it …

While I’m at it, I’ll let a bloggy smile turn into a good laugh (“stuart”’s comment)—as long as I don’t tip my chair back too far and end up on the floor.

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Searching

Now that warrantless wiretaps have apparently become part of the American way of life, can physical searches without a warrant be far behind?

Bilzho cartoon

“Oh, wow—I’ve been looking for this for a week!”

[Cartoon by Andrey Bilzho] (who? here!)

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Rachel

Why would a play that ran successfully in London and was headed for New York City suddenly have the rug pulled out from under it?

Rachel Corrie, a young American peace activist, died three years ago beneath an Israeli bulldozer in front of a Palestinian pharmacist’s house in Gaza. She was 23 years old, and she left some words behind. Her words don’t clarify the murky circumstances surrounding her death, but they paint a moving picture of her life and her beliefs, according to those who have seen My Name is Rachel Corrie in London.

The Nation has attempted to answer the question posed above, in an editorial (“An American Inquisition?”) and an article by Philip Weiss (“Too Hot for New York”). Weiss’s article shows many people dancing around the elephant in the room, everyone reluctant to pinpoint the cause. And, truly, it seems the cause is too diffuse to capture in a word or phrase. But the general outlines emerge, and Weiss produces them at the article’s end, after quoting theater blogger George Hunka’s description of the controversy as “an extraordinarily rare picture of the ways that New York cultural institutions make their decisions about what to produce.”

Hunka doesn’t use the J-word. Jen Marlowe does. A Jewish activist with Rachelswords.org (which is staging a reading of Corrie’s words on March 22 with the Corrie parents present), she says, “I don’t want to say the Jewish community is monolithic. It isn’t. But among many American Jews who are very progressive and fight deeply for many social justice issues, there’s a knee-jerk reflexive reaction that happens around issues related to Israel.”

Questions about pressure from Jewish leaders morph quickly into questions about funding. Ellen Stewart, the legendary director of the theatrical group La MaMa E.T.C., which is across East 4th Street from the [New York Theatre] Workshop, speculates that the trouble began with its “very affluent” board. Rachel’s father, Craig Corrie, echoes her. “Do an investigation, follow the money.” I called six board members and got no response. (About a third appear to be Jewish, as am I.) This is of course a charged issue. The writer Alisa Solomon, who was appalled by the postponement, nonetheless warns, “There’s something a little too familiar about the image of Jews pulling the puppet strings behind the scenes.”

Perhaps. But [NYTW artistic director James] Nicola’s statement about a back channel to Jewish leaders suggests the presence of a cultural lobby that parallels the vaunted pro-Israel lobby in think tanks and Congress. I doubt we will find out whether the Workshop’s decision was “internally generated,” as [Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tony] Kushner contends, or more orchestrated, as I suspect. What the episode has demonstrated is a climate of fear. Not of physical harm, but of loss of opportunities. “The silence results from fear and intimidation,” says Cindy Corrie [Rachel Corrie’s mother]. “I don’t see what else. And it harms not only Palestinians. I believe, from the bottom of my heart, it harms Israelis and it harms us.”

Kushner agrees. Having spent five months defending Munich, he says the fear has two sources: “There is a very, very highly organized attack machinery that will come after you if you express any kind of dissent about Israel’s policies, and it’s a very unpleasant experience to be in the cross hairs. These aren’t hayseeds from Kansas screaming about gays burning in hell; they’re newspaper columnists who are taken seriously.” These attackers impose a kind of literacy test: Before you can cast a moral vote on Palestinian rights, you must be able to recite a million wonky facts, such as what percentage of the territories were outside the Green Line in 1949. Then there is the self-generated fear of lending support to anti-Semites or those who would destroy Israel. All in all, says Kushner, it can leave someone “overwhelmed and in despair—you feel like you should just say nothing.”

Who will tell Americans the Middle East story? For generations that story has been one of Israelis as victims, and it has been crucial to Israeli policy inasmuch as Israel has been able to defy its neighbors’ opinions by relying on a highly sympathetic superpower. Israel’s supporters have always feared that if Americans started to conduct the same frank discussion of issues that takes place in Tel Aviv, we might become more evenhanded in our approach to the Middle East. That pressure is what has stifled a play that portrays the Palestinians as victims (and thrown a blanket over a movie, Munich, that portrays both sides as victims). I’ve never written this sort of thing before. How moving that we have been granted that freedom by a 23-year-old woman with literary gifts who was not given time to unpack them.

I’ve noted many times that one is more likely to find an open, multisided discussion of the Palestinian issue in the Israeli press than in the American media. Kudos to The Nation.

On the broader issue of the power and influence of the “Israel lobby,” see this recent article by two American scholars—in the London Review of Books.

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Censure

Senator Russ Feingold of Wisconsin has introduced a resolution to censure the President of the United States over his illegal wiretapping activities. Feingold deserves all the support we can give him. If you ever wanted to cosponsor a Senate bill, here’s your chance. (Don’t let your desire for impeachment stop you.)

Bonus link: coverage of Sandra Day O’Connor’s speech at Georgetown University in which she warned of the danger of the US edging towards dictatorship if the Republican Party’s rightwingers continue to attack the judiciary.

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Dud

Boy, that last entry (“Shifting”) was a stinker, wasn’t it?

In the meantime I stumbled upon the Big Guy’s blog, and I can’t figure out whether it validates the effort of all us myriad scribblers* or invalidates it.**
__________
*I mean, if He does it …
**What’s left to say, really?

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Shifting

A friend at work gave me an old bicycle (a Giant—that’s the name, don’t blame me). After I added a few essentials for commuting safely (rear-view mirror, front and back lights, etc.), the bike was ready to serve as a backup to my old Trek hybrid (which badly needs a new middle chain ring—on order from a shop in New York City).

All bikes are a little different and take some getting used to. The Giant has slightly smaller wheels but with wider rims and thus bigger tires, so the center of gravity has changed a bit. But the main difference is the shifters. The Trek has the newer click-shifters, while the Giant has the old “continuous” shifters. Alternating bikes is like switching between a mandolin and a violin (i.e., between a fretted and fretless instrument).

Since I play the violin and haven’t touched a mandolin for years, this is perfectly fine. The Giant also brings back fond memories of my Fuji road bike, which had lever shifters on the down tube. (Bicyclists sure are a fruity bunch, aren’t they?)

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