[2006.01.25 - 06:40 P.M.] YOUR MEDIA: OBJECTIVELY PRO-GOP
The mainstream media is clueless. Journalists are lazy and inept. Everything in the press is reported as a "He Said/She Said" story. The media have a double standard for Republicans. The press takes it easy on Bush. Cable news is just ceaseless partisan bickering presented as entertainment. Reporters allow themselves to be distracted and manipulated by the administration.
For years, progressives like myself have been repeating these complaints, and you know what? We've totally missed the point. To say that our side has been the victim of clueless, lazy, and inept reporting, rife with false equivalencies and double standards, delivered by useful idiots who are unaware that the right is using them actually lets the media off too easy, hiding a darker truth:
The mainstream media is objectively pro-GOP.
Let's review: Chris Matthews goes on the air and says that Osama bin Laden sounds just like Michael Moore. Around the same time, Washington Post ombudsman Deborah Howell claims that Jack Abramoff gave money to Democrats as well as Republicans. In the former case, a loudmouth pundit who passes himself off as a political "moderate" pushes the GOP meme that liberals and progressives are on the side of the terrorists. A vicious, disgusting smear. In the latter case, the woman who is supposed to be acting as the journalistic watchdog for one of the nation's most influential papers passes along a blatant falsehood that helps the GOP defuse their brewing ethics scandal by playing into the widely-held belief that such corruption is simply endemic to politics, no matter what side of the aisle you're on.
It's possible to look at these events as just the latest data points on a steadily-climbing curve of media atrocities. For some reason, however, I perceive them as a discontinuity, as a telling moment when masks come off and agendas are revealed. I feel like the dude in They Live who puts on the specially-treated sunglasses and suddenly sees that aliens are walking among us. Creepy, malign, right-wing aliens, bereft of humanity and intent on world-wide domination. Any day now, I expect the Post to reveal their new masthead complete with the GOP elephant, the Times to disclose that it was acquired in 2001 by the American Enterprise Institute, and Chris Matthews to show up on the air doing shots of Dubya juice through which he will gargle the notes of "Hail To The Chief".
Suddenly, it has come home to me with unprecedented concreteness that we lefties are, as Peter Daou recently put it, "all alone in the wilderness". The media isn't merely deaf to our calls, they're actively helping the GOP exclude us from the dialog, doing their damnedest to keep us out in the cold. The Democrats can't hear us because they're either cowering in fear or succumbing to political Stockholm Syndrome, believing the right's lies about them and seeking to please their tormentors.
Daou has actually been doing a smashing job lately of putting together a coherent theory of how the new American political landscape works. His idea of the "triangle" that exists between bloggers/activists, the mainstream media, and each side's (purported) party has proved a powerful analytical tool. In his latest post on this topic, he hammers home the same essential point I make above: That our national media is actively playing for the right-wing "team".
What's the common thread running through the past half-decade of Bush's presidency? What's the nexus between the Swift-boating of Kerry, the Swift-boating of Murtha, and the guilt-by-association between Democrats and terrorists? Why has a seemingly endless string of administration scandals faded into oblivion? Why do Democrats keep losing elections? It's this: the traditional media, the trusted media, the "neutral" media, have become the chief delivery mechanism of potent anti-Democratic and pro-Bush storylines. And the Democratic establishment appears to be either ignorant of this political quandary or unwilling to fight it.
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You've heard the narratives: Bush is likable, Bush is a regular guy, Bush is firm, Bush is a religious man, Bush relishes a fight, Democrats are muddled, Democrats have no message, national security is Bush's strength, terror attacks and terror threats help Bush (even though he presided over the worst attack ever on American soil), Democrats are weak on security, Democrats need to learn how to talk about values, Republicans favor a “strict interpretation” of the Constitution, and on and on.
A single storyline is more effective than a thousand stories. And a single storyline delivered by a “neutral” reporter is a hundred times more dangerous than a storyline delivered by an avowed partisan. Rightwingers can attack the media for criticizing Bush, can slam the New York Times for being liberal, but when the Times and the Post and CNN and MSNBC echo the ‘Bush stands firm’ mantra, it adds one more brick to a powerful pro-Bush edifice.
These narratives are woven so deeply into the fabric of news coverage that they have become second nature and have permeated the public psyche and are regurgitated in polls. (The polls are then used to strengthen the narratives.) They are delivered as affirmative statements, interrogatives, hypotheticals; they are discussed as fact and accepted as conventional wisdom; they are twisted, turned, shaped, reshaped, and fed to the American public in millions of little soundbites, captions, articles, editorials, news stories, and opinion pieces. They are inserted into the national dialogue as contagious memes that imprint the idea of Bush=strong/Dems=weak. And they are false.
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It's simple: if your core values and beliefs and positions, no matter how reasonable, how mainstream, how correct, how ethical, are filtered to the public through the lens of a media that has inoculated the public against your message, and if the media is the public's primary source of information, then NOTHING you say is going to break through and change that dynamic.
It's that last bit -- the notion that the media has "inoculated" the public against the acceptance of liberal ideas -- that really makes me want to scream. Bush is right: The media is a filter. It's his filter, and it makes sure only Bush-vetted, GOP-approved ideas get a fair hearing.
We can't even start a serious discussion with our fellow citizens about how the Iraq war might be instigating more terrorism because our media (relentlessly prodded by the right) has inoculated the public against this idea by labelling it "sympathetic to terrorists". We can't even start a serious conversation about our obscene income gap, the destruction of the middle class by outsourcing, or the wisdom of nationalized healthcare because our media (relentlessly prodded by the right) has inoculated the public against these ideas by labelling them "socialist". It's fucking insane. We lose these debates before they start not because our ideas are inferior -- the opposite is true -- but because the media, which provides the only arena for a sustained national discourse, is playing for the other team.
Daou closes by saying:
Progressive bloggers and the millions of online activists whose conversations they shepherd are fighting to close the triangle. Sadly, Democrats will resist, out of fear. And the press will fight back, hard. Not to mention the anticipated wrath of the rightwing machine, built on the "liberal media" myth. Still, the latent power of the netroots is ignored at the political and media establishment's peril.
I'd like to think that he's right, and that the blogosphere can provide a way around the pro-Bush media filter, but I don't really see that as being the case. Left Blogistan is a fragmented and chaotic place. We rarely find a unified voice, rarely manage to get all our horses pulling a story line in the same direction, and even when we do -- think Downing Street -- we're at the mercy of the mainstream media in general and television news in particular to reach the great mass of people who aren't sitting at their computers soaking up every iota of political information the way we do. Bloggers can dig up stories, refine them, and help shape them, but we need the Big Megaphone of the mainstream media to get them into the national consciousness.
So what do we do? I remember reading somewhere recently about the possibility of funding a "Liberal FOX News". It's intriguing, but I don't think such a parallel infrastructure is the answer. We'd be fighting our way into an already over-saturated cable news market. We'd also be playing right into the right's underlying agenda of making all the news -- all the "facts" -- political by further balkanizing the media into "right" and "left". Even if such a network succeeded, we'd end up talking to ourselves.
No, contra Kevin Drum, I think the best approach is to turn the Media Criticism knob to eleven. To "work the refs" the way the right has for the past two decades, only harder, faster, more relentlessly, and making constant use of our biggest built-in advantage: The facts on the ground. Behind every media atrocity of the last decade has been a set of facts that are being systematically distorted or ignored by the media in order to make the story more simpatico for the cry-babies on the right. We need to throw those facts in the face of today's right-wing media whores every chance we get. Remember how Wolf Blitzer reacted recently when Howard Dean pointed out that, no, Jack Abramoff had not given a single dime to any Democrat? The blank stare? The sputter? That's what happens when you put them on the spot. It's an uncomfortable position. No one likes being publicly proven wrong. That's a disincentive we can use to our advantage.
I think the battle to take back the media will, in the long term, prove more important than the battle to take back the House, or the Senate, or the Presidency. As the Democratic Party has repeatedly demonstrated on those infrequent occasions when they actually bother to get elected, winning office doesn't guarantee you anything. Clinton threw gays in the military under the bus within weeks of taking office, then turned around and sold out the working class with NAFTA. Connecticut's own Joe Lieberman has had his head up Bush's ass on foreign policy ever since the towers fell. Real power, real victories, won't flow from simply putting Democrats back in office, but from wresting the never-ending dialog of democracy back from the right.
[2006.01.21 - 06:00 P.M.] KID ROCK
In what I believe qualifies as an "ironic turn of events", Tracy and I went to see Kid Rock in concert at the Mohegan Sun Casino last night. Why the irony? Well, you see, back in November, my buddy Fridge e-mailed me to give me a heads-up that the American Bad Ass himself was coming to our fair state and inquiring as to whether I wanted to go see him. I pondered this for a bit and decided to decline, for reasons which I will get to in a moment. Unbeknownst to me, however, Tracy had found out about the show independently and decided to get us tickets as a X-Mas present to me. Fridge, meanwhile, punted on the idea. Weeks later, when he and his wife came by for drinks and some Setback (world's greatest card game), he was... displeased... to learn that I was going to the show and he was not. Can't say I blame him. Can't say I'll blame him for being even more pissed when I report that it was, in fact, a great show.
If you peruse my Top Ten Albums list -- which, contrary to the assertions of some, is the definitive Great Album List of the last fifty years -- you will see Kid Rock's Devil Without A Cause listed at Number Two, behind only the incomparable and never-to-be-bested Back In Black. Indeed, Devil was a watershed musical event in my life. Having listened to both hip-hop and heavy metal since my early teens, I had long endured perplexed stares and open ridicule from friends who were fans of one genre but not the other. I alone in the universe, I came to believe, perceived the cosmic resonance between the two. Turns out I believed wrong. For, in the late nineties, working in his secret laboratory in an abandoned warehouse district outside Detroit*, Kid Rock (aka Bob Ritchie) had discovered something amazing: With the settings on his musical super-collider tuned just so, he was able to force a fusion of hip-hop and metal, resulting in the world's first stable occurrence of the now ubiquitous element rapmetalium.
Devil Without A Cause was one of those discs that stayed with me at all times -- either in my car CD player or on my PC at work -- for months on end. I'd listen to it twice a day sometimes. The album isn't just rap and metal slapped together. It's got lots of other stuff going on. Shades of funk and blues woven in and popping up in odd places. Damn near every song is a masterpiece. I was in heaven. Alas, my joy was not to last, for behind the scenes, Kid had already begun drifting in an unforeseen and ominous direction: South.
When Cocky came out, a few years after Devil, I bought it immediately. The album opens with the same balls-to-the-wall sound as its predecessor, albeit with a slightly more rough-around-the-edges production style. But then things start getting odd. Lay It On Me, track 3 -- admittedly a great song -- has a kind of twangy sound to the guitar. (?) Track 6 is an earnest, melodramatic yawner called Lonely Road of Faith. (??!!) Track 7 excerpts a riff from Lynyrd Skynyrd's Freebird and contains the first mention of "Dixie". (Aaaaaiiiiieeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!)
"What the fuck was going on here?" I asked myself. But I knew the answer already. My man Rock -- the Bullgod, the Early Motherfuckin' Stoned Pimp of the Goddamned Nation -- had pulled a fast one on me, substituting southern rock for heavy metal as ingredient number two in his signature admixture. I felt betrayed. And it got worse. The reviews of Kid Rock, his self-titled third major release, seemed to indicate that he had turned into, uh, Waylon Jennings. OK, maybe that's harsh, but still. What I heard was not so good. I was semi-sorta crushed by this development. Kid and I lost touch. His name became, for me, a bittersweet reminder of greatness that passed too quickly and musings on what might have been.
Until, that is, Tracy informed me that we were going to see his show.
Mohegan Sun is one of two native-American-run casinos here in Connecticut (the other being Foxwoods) and it is by far the superior one. Great food, great shopping, tons of gaming, beautifully designed and decorated. And they are extremely indulgent of drunken patrons who pass out there on their bachelor parties, going so far as to provide wheelchair service back to their rooms. Or so I hear. Anyhow, last night was the first time I've gone to see a show there.
Tracy and I arrived around 4:00 PM and wandered around a bit. It was her first time there and I wanted to give her the lay of the land. Then we had a quick dinner, sandwiches and beer, at Bubba's BBQ. After that, it was on to the video poker and slot machines to kill the remaining time before the 8:00 PM show.
Finally, around 7:30 PM, we're liquored up, flush with Tracy's gaming winnings, and ready to rock, so we head into the arena. And, hey, lookee here: It's actually an arena. I was expecting something on the small side -- maybe a few thousand seats or so -- but this is a full-sized basketball/hockey arena, and a nicely appointed one at that. We're in the far left corner opposite the stage, one row from the top, but the view is still pretty damned good. The pitch on the seating is crazy steep. Steep enough that if you're sitting, you can see over the heads of people standing in front of you. (Tracy momentarily gets vertigo.) Oh, and - bonus! - the concert concession stands include a Sam Adams booth as well as a wine booth (probably a first for a Kid Rock tour). Very nice venue indeed.
The crowd for this show was, um, interesting. You had a lot on Gen X types like myself, as you'd expect, but then there was an older, graying-and-tatooed biker element, apparently attracted by Rock's aforementioned southward drift. Notably absent were the young'uns -- the alienated, pant-sagging, wool-cap-wearing crowd. They were not missed.
Right at 8:00 PM the opening band came on. (Tracy and I had held out hope that there wouldn't be an opening band, but no such luck.) They were called "[Blah bluh Blah Blah] and the Truth". Which is funny, because when they said "the Truth" I fully expected Paul Pierce to walk on stage. Anyhow, I'm guessing that "Blah bluh Blah Blah" was the name of the lead singer, a very, very large -- and by large I mean rotund and jelly-like -- man wearing a suit. For a moment, our attention was gripped by this spectacle. But then they began to play, and the moment passed. Verily, I say, the vaguely-bluesy, technically-decent-but-utterly-uninspired set that "BbBB and the Truth" delivered nearly put the arena into a deep slumber. Luckily, it was a short set. Otherwise Tracy and I might still be up in the stands in a boredom-induced coma.
Intermission. Break for throughput: Empty bladder, then procure replacement liquids. (Bad idea.)
Around 9:00 PM, the lights go down and the video screen behind the stage comes to life, showing the intro to 60 Minutes. This leads to an occasionally amusing ten-minute-long documentary/interview piece on the subject of Mr. Rock, his various musical influences, his thoughts on his critics, etc. etc., most of which I believe was fake and intended for humorous effect. By minute nine of this I'm like "OK, ha ha, funny, now let's go!" (To which the guy on my right responded "Yeah, no shit, huh?") The one thing I learned from this video? Kid Rock's normal speaking voice is insanely geeky sounding. Really, the guy should sing at all times.
Finally, the screen goes blank, and the band takes the stage. Just the band, though. The DJ goes through a quick round of introductions, acquainting the audience with the current incarnation of the Twisted Brown Trucker Band, Rock's supporting cast. A remixed version of Bawitdaba plays in the background. Then, the formalities dispensed with, the Pimp himself emerges from a platform behind the drum riser. As flames burst from strategic locations along the ramps on either side of the riser, Rock jumps down, throwing off the floor-length fuzzy robe he's wearing to reveal a bright red track suit, and the band kicks it into gear, opening with a rendition of the testosterone-drenched Where You At, Rock? that would make your 80-year-old grandfather grab his ball sack and throw a fist in the air.
Just a couple of songs in, however, we come to You Never Met A Motherfucker Quite Like Me. This would be the song I mentioned earlier that pays homage to Skynyrd, so let me now briefly come back the whole sourthern rock issue. See, this song kicks a lot of ass, right? It's one giant, brash, ego-stroking masterpiece. Fun as hell to listen to. So I can take the Skynyrd thing, and I can grit my teeth and ignore the "Dixie" references because, well, like I said, the song kicks a lot of ass. But dammitall if the video backdrop for this didn't include a giant confederate flag majestically fluttering in the breeze. Therein lies the problem with southern rock: Not only does the music generally suck, but the politics definitely do.
When the subject of politics comes up in interviews, Rock tries to get away by saying something like "Fuck politics. I'm all about the party!" I believe him. I don't think he's trying to be at all political. If anything, I think maybe his current fixation on melding southern influences into the hip-hop mix is an honest, if somewhat naive, attempt to bridge one of the biggest cultural gaps in America. How else to explain the video montage for American Bad Ass, which cycled between pics of Run-D.M.C. and Grandmaster Flash on the one hand and Dale Earnhardt and Hank Williams on the other (and which also featured lots of flag waving and images of American soldiers)? If you take what he's doing at face value, Kid Rock's attempt to wed white, southern, country influences with the black inner city is pretty audacious. It's also more than a little clumsy, and it bugs me, because I just have a nagging hunch that Run-D.M.C. wouldn't want to be on the same video screen as the Stars n' Bars, you know?
Anyhow, enough. As Tracy just reminded me, it was a concert, not a rally.
For a grand total of two hours and fifteen minutes, Kid Rock and the band kept things above the red line. (Note the time on that: Two hours plus. Great deal for your concert-going dollar. A little tough on the bladder though, particularly when you're someone who refuses to duck out for fear of missing a favorite song.) The set was, thankfully, heavily skewed towards Devil and Cocky. In fact, I think the only two songs Rock did from his more recent album were Jackson, Mississippi and his cover of Feel Like Makin' Love.
One of the early highlights was Devil Without A Cause (Goin' Platinum). This song has a killer groove to it and is a blast to sing along with. The rhymes practically trip over each other they come so fast. And the best part was that, when it came to the verse that was done by the late Joe C. (he of the short stature and long member), they killed all the stage lights, put his photo up on the screen, and ran his rendition from tape. Friggin' cool. And, like, touching. Yo.
All the hits that fit were on order for the evening. American Bad Ass, Forever, and Bullgod on the hard side. Only God Knows Why and Picture on the soft side. The latter featured Rock's drummer, a black woman with a killer voice, doing the Sheryl Crow half of the duet. Predictably, towards the end of the show, Cowboy -- (one of the ten greatest songs of all time - full list pending completion) -- brought the house down.
Hey, wanna know something about Kid Rock that I bet you didn't know? Motherfucker is a talented and versatile musician. Just prior to wrapping up the main set, the band did an extended jam which featured Rock manning the turntables, piano, guitar, banjo, bass, and drums all in a fairly quick succession of two-minute segments. In case you doubted if he was really doing what he appeared to be doing, the close-ups on the video screen left no doubt. His DJ routine in particular blew me away. I had no idea he could scratch like that. In fact, I didn't know there was anyone left who could scratch like that. I thought it was all mostly electronic effects now. As for the rest of his solos, he's not going to win an award on any one instrument, but I'll say this: The dude has range. And contrary to the punks who put him down, he really does know his shit.
The main set concluded, much to my delight, with What's My Name from the History Of Rock CD. It was Rock's one audience-participation indulgence, and it got the audience wound up nicely for the pre-encore interlude. Said encore lasted very briefly. After a staged "argument" with arena management, which was purportedly telling the band to shut it down (cheesy but mildly amusing), the band came back with a cover of Gimme Some Lovin' and then, finally, a full-throttle take on Bawitdaba, replete with flames and fireworks, to end the evening.
Damn fine show. Not as crazy as his earlier tours, I'm sure. Some discomfort with the southern thang. But, bottom line, a rockin' performance that I'm glad I got to see. Thanks for my X-Mas present, Hon.
[2006.01.19 - 05:30 P.M.] ON "TRAITORS" AND "TREASON"
Regular readers of this blog know that I am occasionally given to insulting, disparaging, or otherwise negatively labelling right wingers. I have been known to call them scumbags, dirtbags, douchebags, and even (if I recall correctly) colostomy bags. I have called them fuckers, motherfuckers, fuckheads and fuckwads. I have called them stupid, retarded, mentally-challenged, imbeciles and morons. I have accused them of destroying this country. I have claimed that their fucked-up ideology is a disease that afflicts our body politic. I am not, to summarize, shy or restrained in the invective department.
There is one word I stay away from, however: Traitors.
Actually, "stay away from" isn't entirely accurate. It implies an effort on my part where none exists. Quite simply, the term "traitor" does not occur to me when I am criticizing wingers, because while it is true that they are completely fucked in the head, that their beliefs are total horseshit, and that their policy preferences, when acted upon, uniformly lead to ruin and despair, they are still, at the end of the day, my fellow citizens, and last I checked we live in a democracy.
Unfortunately, as we all know, wingers see things differently. Their first instinct when confronted with disagreement -- about the Iraq war, about the president's (illegal) wire-tapping program, about the conduct of the War on Terror™, indeed about pretty much anything Bush and the GOP do -- is to call those of us doing the disagreeing traitors. It's almost a reflex action with them, this effort to politically excommunicate anyone who disagrees with them by labeling them "traitors". It's a psychic defense mechanism. It's their way of trying to do rhetorically what they cannot do legally, much as they would love to: Revoke our citizenship.
I can understand why self-promoting media sluts like Ann Coulter and Sean Hannity do this. It sells books and gets them airtime. But what about guys like Ryan Chapman, a student writing in the The Rocky Mountain Collegian (via Steve Gilliard)? Here's what this guy had to say about David Letterman's grilling of Bill The Ass-Faced Clown O'Reilly:
Over Christmas break I watched an episode of the Late Show with David Letterman where one of Letterman's guests was Bill O'Reilly. Letterman, being one of the most unabashedly leftist talk show hosts in the country, quickly turned the discussion to the war in Iraq and began to harangue O'Reilly on everything that has gone wrong. He called O'Reilly a liar, said "people like him" are what is wrong with this country, and mocked him for disagreeing with Cindy Sheehan's protest tactics. All after admitting to never watching O'Reilly's program.
It was at this moment I had an epiphany. I realized for the first time that Letterman and the army of liberal nut jobs he speaks for (many of whom were in the audience cheering) are actually rooting for us to lose in Iraq.
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Many of you may be reading this and making the exact same realization I did. You also may be wondering how in the hell people can get away with rooting against their own country in a time of war, like I am. I have all the respect in the world for the First Amendment but this goes way beyond that. As far as I am concerned this behavior is treason and should be tried as such.
Now, I watched that interview, and let's just say that I "made a different realization" from our buddy Ryan. As I saw it, Letterman was taking O'Reilly to task not for simply disagreeing with Cindy Sheehan, but for demonizing her, trying to turn this mother of a dead soldier into an enemy sympathizer. In any case, whatever Letterman was getting at, he sure as hell wasn't "rooting for us to lose in Iraq". But somehow, filtered through the defective neuronal matrix that makes up the consciousness of "Ryan Chapman", Letterman's comments were "way beyond" the sort of speech that's protected by the First Amendment. Indeed, his upbraiding of Bill O'Reilly was the stuff treason trials are made of.
Really. That's what this joker took away from the Letterman/O'Reilly tiff. And I have no reason to doubt his sincerity, no reason to think he's just saying this because he's angling for a gig with FOX News when he grows up.
See, this is one of my biggest problems with wingers: They don't grasp the First Amendment and what it means. They don't have the slightest respect for this nation's long tradition of political dissent. They are, at the core of their beings, profoundly undemocratic people, temperamentally unsuited to living in a nation of heterogeneous political views.
The difference between me and the Ryan Chapmans of this country (besides a well-developed sense of humor and anywhere from 50 to 100 IQ points) is that, if I ever get to the point where I simply cannot tolerate sharing a nation with people like him, I'll pack my bags and go elsewhere. I have that right. What I do not have is the right to throw him out -- either literally or through the rhetorical device of calling him a "traitor" -- simply because I disagree with him. Ryan Chapman might be a retarded fucking douchebag intent on helping the GOP run this country into the ground, but he is still an American.
[2006.01.19 - 05:00 P.M.] BLIND BRODER
In an otherwise uncharacteristically bullshit-free column on Al Gore's recent speech, David Broder, that dependable conveyor of inside-the-beltway conventional media wisdom, says the following:
[Gore's] overall charge is that Bush has systematically broken the laws and bent the Constitution by his actions in the areas of national security and domestic anti-terrorism.
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The first -- and to my mind weakest -- instance [of Bush's malfeasance] is the claim that Bush took the nation to war on the basis of false intelligence about Iraq's weapons of mass destruction. But there is no clear evidence as yet that Bush willfully concocted or knowingly distorted the intelligence he received about Saddam Hussein's military programs. Interpretations of that intelligence varied within the government, but the Clinton administration, of which Gore was an important part, came to the same conclusions that Bush did -- and so did other governments in the Western alliance.
Broder and his ilk are arguably correct in asserting that there is "no clear evidence that Bush willfully concocted or knowingly distorted" the Iraq intelligence. That lack of a "smoking gun", however, should not blind one to the larger picture of what happened. Yet such blindness is precisely the self-induced state which our mainstream political press chooses to wallow in. It's a state of affairs that never ceases to perplex me. What ever happened to the journalistic tradition of piecing together a story, exploring the broad outlines of an event as well as the minutiae, and figuring out what went on?
We may, for the moment, lack a document on White House letterhead with Bush's signature instructing the CIA to shred any evidence suggesting Hussein was not a threat. What we do have, however, is truckloads of evidence proving -- not suggesting, proving -- that this administration had every intention to invade Iraq regardless of what the intelligence said. Downing Street Memos, anyone? Richard Clarke's detailed recollections of the administration's post-9/11 fixation on identifying Iraq as the culprit? Why do the David Broders of the world persist in pretending that we don't know these things?
Indeed, rather than seeing the neon-bright signals lining the tracks that led inevitably towards this war of choice and inquiring as to how the administration might have further "greased the rails", Broder and the like play dumb with the "everyone thought Saddam had weapons" canard. Well, fine. Maybe "everyone" did, but "everyone" didn't think the proper response was to invade Iraq and overthrow their government. That particular policy choice came right out of the neoconservative playbook, and the paper trail for their advocacy of this course of action is fifteen years long and ten lanes wide.
Frankly, given the ubiquitous presence of veteran neocon think-tankers throughout the Bush foreign policy apparatus -- people who were deeply ideologically committed to the policy of spreading "democracy" at gunpoint -- it is impossible for me to believe that they did not have their fingers on the scales during the process of gathering and evaluating the Iraq intelligence. Of course, I'm just a lefty blogger, so it's easy for me to come to such definitive conclusions. But you tell me, if you're a journalist, a reporter -- hell, even if you've retired from the front lines to a cushy opinion-maker gig like Broder -- how can you not be curious about this? How can you not be absolutely driven to distraction in wanting to get all the way to the bottom of one of the biggest stories of your lifetime? How can you sit there and let the administration's script slide by unchallenged? I just don't get it.
[2006.01.15 - 01:45 P.M.] NFL PLAYOFFS, CONT...
Uh... Steelers just went up 14-0 over the Colts. Is it too early to ask What The Fuck???
(I'll be doing a little live playoff blogging here again. Feel free to consider this an NFL Playoffs Open Thread.)
(3:05 PM) Man, was I wrong about this game. Wrong wrong wrong. The Peyton Manning Face is all over the T.V. right now. Holy shit what a debacle.
(3:14 PM) Maybe we just saw a turning point there? Fourth and two, Dungy sent the punting unit onto the field and Peyton sent them back. He took the decision out of Dungy's hands, went for it on fourth, and made it. That was a ballsy move. Please let this be the start of a comeback.
(3:26 PM) Wow! Beautiful throw, nice catch, and then a great run by Dallas Clark there. Can't believe he got away from all those Steeler defenders. Down 21-10. Time for the Colts D to show up at the stadium.
(3:50 PM) This is agonizing. Two straight fourth-and-shorts converted by the Steelers and they are just eating clock, grinding the game away. Absolutely infuriating. Can't imagine what it's like to be on that Colts sideline right now. Oh, and BTW, what the hell was with the no call on that false start/offsides situation? Something happened. There was clearly a penalty on one of the two teams (looked like offsides on the Colts to me) and yet the refs refused to call it. Bizarre.
(3:55 PM) Trying to decide whether I hate Troy Polamalu or really like him. He's destroying the Colts today, so my gut reaction is to hate the motherfucker. On the other hand, what a player. Wow. Bold Prediction: If this interception stands (it's under review) the Colts are, with apologies to myself, toast.
(3:58 PM) Colts caught a huge break there. Can't say I understand that ruling. He caught the ball but didn't get back up with it? So what? Don't understand. Anyhow, Colts are blazing down the field right now. All the way down to the 3. Edge goes in for a TD. Wow. What a quarter.
(4:15 PM) Bettis fumbles as the Colts fans are heading for the exits. This might be the most exciting end game I've ever seen in my life. If I were a Colts fan or a Steelers fan right now, I'd be on the way to the hospital. Fuckin' coronary.
(4:22 PM) Game over. Mike Vanderjackoff -- the most accurate kicker in NFL history -- absolutely shanked that. Ugh. I feel awful. Just awful. Here comes another year of "Peyton Manning can't win the Big One" comments. Fuckity fucking fuck diddy fuck. On the other side of the ledger, Steelers fans, I salute you. I was completely wrong about your team. Didn't see this coming at all. Good luck in Denver.
Huh. I'm in a weird position now. With the Patriots, my most hated enemy, and the Colts, my favorite team in the playoffs, both eliminated, I'm like... eh. I don't really care who wins at this point. I kinda like Carolina, but not enough to get worked up about it. If they lose, it'll be the Bears, Seahawks, Steelers, and Broncos fighting it out. Wake me up for the NFL draft, OK?
[2006.01.14 - 01:10 P.M.] COME INTO THE LIGHT, MR. MANGINI
As if I needed further confirmation of the fact that Bill Belichick is a loathsome creature who was put on this Earth for the sole purpose of tormenting Jets fans, we have this latest item:
If the Jets want Eric Mangini as their next head coach, the feeling is very mutual, The Post learned exclusively last night.
Although Bill Belichick has been trying to talk Mangini out of taking the Jets job, Mangini will make his own decision, and that decision would be to accept a fair Jets' offer if one is, indeed, made.
..
The level of Mangini's interest in the Jets has been a question of significance that's been raised in recent days.
One question has been whether Belichick, who has no love for the Jets, the team he jilted in 2000, would try to talk Mangini out of taking the Jets job if offered.
Another has been whether Mangini's loyalty to Belichick, who has raised him in his NFL career to date, would keep him in New England awaiting an offer from another team down the road.
The answers to those questions are "Yes" and "No."
Yes, Belichick already has started whispering in Mangini's ear that the Jets job is not a good one and he should wait for a better opportunity.
And, no, Mangini will not listen to Belichick on this issue and is prepared to accept the Jets' job if it's offered to him, provided they don't completely low-ball him financially. Mangini, who makes between $600,000 and $700,000 a year with New England, probably would need to be offered $2 million per year. Herman Edwards was making a shade less than $2 million.
Good for you, Mr. Mangini. I hope the Jets offer you the job. Frankly, I don't even know how good you'll be with only one year as the Patriots' DC under your belt, but just knowing that the Dark Lord Belichick is trying to keep you from us is good enough for me.
I hate you, Belichick. Just want you to know that. You fucked my franchise over once, made the laughingstock Patriots, our closest division rival, into a juggernaut, and now, for good measure, you're trying to fuck us again. I hope Denver hands you your ass on a plate tonight.
[2006.01.09 - 07:00 P.M.] ALITO: WRONG MAN, WRONG TIME
TAP's Robert Kuttner has an op-ed in the Boston Globe today arguing that not only is Alito an awful Supreme Court choice in general, but that his propensity for indulging the executive branch while shackling the legislative branch could be the worst possible complement to Bush's increasingly naked dictatorial ambitions:
Presidents do have extraordinary wartime powers, but this president asserts a state of permanent warfare, implying permanent erosion of liberty and democracy. Last week, signing a bill banning torture in interrogations that was forced on him by senior Republican senators, Bush asserted a concept never imagined by the Constitution's framers or permitted by any court -- a ''signing statement" claiming his right to interpret a law in his own fashion and to disregard aspects of it that he doesn't like.
It takes an independent judiciary to balance needs of liberty against claims of executive power in national emergencies. But Alito's views of the imperial presidency are almost perfectly in sync with Bush's.
Alito's apologists insist that his views from the mid-1980s, when he worked at the Reagan White House, do not reflect his current conception of the law. But in a speech to the Federalist Society in November 2000, while a sitting appellate judge, Alito claimed almost limitless powers for the presidency and criticized other courts for limiting executive power. ''The president has not just some executive power," he declared, ''but the executive power -- the whole thing."
Oddly, while Alito favors an almost monarchic executive, he believes the federal government has limited powers to protect the health and safety of Americans or safeguard the environment. Alito and his compatriots in the Federalist Society are critical of the Supreme Court's holding since 1937 that Congress, under the Constitution's commerce clause, may regulate to assure everything from a safe and healthy workplace to honest financial markets.
Does it strike anyone else as surpassingly odd that so many so-called "conservatives" favor granting absolute power to one man while drastically limiting the prerogatives of the people's branch? Maybe we should just call them monarchists instead, no?
I hope the Democrats -- and any principled Republicans they can scare up -- realize just how profound the choice before them is. A "Yes" vote on this man, whose faulty conception of the proper balance of powers presents such a grave threat to our future, would be a dereliction of duty. It's true that, if the GOP wants to force Alito upon an unsuspecting nation, the opposition party may ultimately have no way to stop them. That doesn't mean they have to sign on to the atrocity that an Alito term on our highest court would amount to.
Alito is the worst of all possible worlds, and Bush, having refused to seek the Democrats advice on his nomination, should be emphatically denied their consent.
[2006.01.08 - 02:00 P.M.] WILD CARD WEEKEND!
(Note: This is my 666th post. Kind of a special moment for me. Thought I'd reflect on that for a second. There. Good.)
Wild Card Weekend! Woo hoo!!! Let the games begin. Yeah, yeah, they began yesterday. Wev.
What is it about the NFL that compels me to watch the playoffs -- every single game -- even when my Jets were not invited to the tournament? I don't watch the NBA playoffs when the Blazers aren't involved. I don't watch the MLB playoffs after the Yankees have been eliminated. I even lose my focus on the NCAA tourney if UConn bows out early. But the NFL playoffs? They're special. I'll watch any NFL playoff game that's on the tube, regardless of who's involved. Of course, that's the NFL. Always compelling. Always.
Sitting here watching the Giants/Panthers game, and Steve Smith just made an amazing TD catch to give Carolina the lead. Then he did a "grass angel" in the end zone to celebrate. Loved it. (Giants fans at the stadium? Not so much.)
The outcome of yesterday's games was unsurprising. Disappointing, in the case of the Patriots' victory, but unsurprising. Basically, two pretenders, the Bucs and Jags, were eliminated by two teams with superior talent and superior coaching, the 'Skins and Pats.
Happy for the 'Skins. I like Clinton Portis and Santana Moss. Also, I think they've got a really good chance of making things interesting versus the Seahawks next week. Hot team, on a roll, heading into a game versus a Seattle team that never conclusively silenced their doubters and just may have peaked too early. And that 'Skins run defense might be just the solution to rushing champ Shaun Alexander.
As for the Pats, I find myself sitting here today trying to convince myself that the performance I saw last night was just a mirage brought on by an inferior opponent who was ill-prepared to play at Foxboro in January. You know, as opposed to the far more horrible alternative -- that Tom Brady and the defending champions are back on top of their game. Don't want to think about that, really. La la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la la... Not listening.
Back to the Giants game. The Panthers have a 10-0 halftime lead which should be greater, considering how they've dominated (183 yards total offense to the Giants paltry 64). No turnovers so far, just stifling defense by Carolina.
I'm ambivalent about this Giants team. On the one hand, I have several good friends who are Giants fans, so when they lose, I feel badly. On the other hand, I have several good friends who are Giants fans, so when they win, I feel badly. (If you live and die with your football team and have friends who live and die with their football team, you know exactly what I mean.) On the third hand, however, this is the first Giants team to come along since I've been watching the NFL (1997) that is actually fun to watch, so I'd like to see that rewarded. And on the fourth and final hand, I feel personally responsible for Eli's second-half-of-the-season swoon, which promptly began after I bought into the late-October Eli Hype, so, yeah, I guess I'm pulling for the Giants in this one. Go Giants!!!
(I know at least two people who are, as they're reading this, considering putting a contract out on my head.)
UPDATE: Oh well, the Giants are officially on vacation, suffering a 23-0 loss. I'd say that the Panthers pretty much did to the Giants what Howard Dean did to Wolf Blizter. But, hey, not my fault. The Giants were sucking well before I decided to back them.
UPDATE: Carson Palmer leaves the field on a cart after taking his second snap of the game. People, moment of silence for Palmer and for all the Bengals fans who -- after a dream season -- now have to watch Jon Kitna take on the burden of their sure to be extremely brief post-season run. That is just fucked. Awful thing to happen to any team. (I just held back from typing "except the Patriots". I'm such a nice guy.)
[2006.01.08 - 11:25 A.M.] STANDARDIZED WING SCALE
I'd like to submit a proposal for consideration by the FDA: Could we please get a nationally standardized scale for hot wings? Because I'm tired of playing guessing games with restaurants that wouldn't know a truly kick-ass hot sauce if you injected it into their eyeballs.
Tracy and I have a place we order from pretty routinely that does both pizza and wings, and they do both quite well. The pizza's first-rate. The wings are good -- meaty, crisp, with just the right amount of sauce -- but we've had trouble getting them at the right level of spiciness. See, I like my wings hotter than Tracy does (of course). So, typically, when we find ourselves starting out at a new place, we'll start at mild or medium and see how things go. Usually this works out OK. A "medium" wing should have enough heat that I'm not bored, but not so much that it harms my delicate flower's taste buds.
Well, the "medium" wings from People's Choice came in at about a zero on the capsaicin scale. I believe at one point I actually fell asleep while eating them. Just sad.
So, next time we go "hot". (sigh) They were what any reasonable human being would call, um, "mild". Personally, I think that's even a little generous.
Finally, looking at the menu, we decide to step it up to "nuclear". Now, usually, "nuclear" denotes a level of hotness that Tracy would be entirely uncomfortable with. But these? Let's just say that, for the first time since we'd been ordering from these guys, I felt like I was actually eating honest-to-Spaghetti-Monster Hot wings. Not my kind of hot. Not scalp-sweat-inducing, mouth-numbing, let's-strap-on-the-Big-Balls-cause-we're-gonna-need-em Hot, but kinda-sorta hot. I was happy.
The menu lists "insanity" as the next and last level up the scale. I think we might need to do a split order next time so I can go there and see what's what.
Back to my bitch session though. Here's the thing: We need a little truth in advertising in the Hot Wing Community. At the very least, we need standards. "Hot" should mean hot. "Nuclear" should mean that, after 3 or 4 wings, you're sweating and your sinuses are liquefying. "Insanity" (or "Suicide" or other variations thereon) should mean instant vaporization of one's face. And here's the infuriating thing about this. For every nine restaurants like People's Choice that pussify their scale so that you have to go a level or two higher than advertised to get your taste buds busy, there's that tenth shop that goes Old School on you.
For example, there was a place in Newtown, Connecticut I went to once for wings. Checked out the menu, and since I was eating solo, I went straight to the "Instant Death" wings (or whatever the hell they called them), figuring no way McWhatever's Family Pub was going to produce anything that scared me. Well, I opened these up, grabbed one, took one bite and... a rash spread up the right side of my face... my ear began to ring... within 30 seconds I could feel nothing but pain in my mouth -- a pain no amount of beverage helped, a pain that threatened to consume my soul -- and I put the wing carefully back down. Eventually, I got through two and a half of these monsters, and that was it. The rest went in the garbage (after a small ceremony to honor them where I actually considered running up a white flag). See, that's "Insanity".
Anyhow, I think a national push for wing standardization is a worthy cause. It's something we can all get behind, something where we can reach across the aisle and find some common ground. Maybe it'll be the issue that finally starts to heal this country.
[2006.01.02 - 08:00 P.M.] HAPPY NEW BEERS!!!
Sorry I'm a day late with this, but yesterday I just had too much important shit to do. Like, you know, destabilizing the reactor core on the Pillar of Autumn in order to blow up Halo and thereby save every sentient life form in the galaxy. Tough job, but I was up to it. Anyhow, on to beer blogging!
Serendipity, baby. This first beer wasn't even on the plate for this weekend. Tracy and I had to stop and pick up a white wine for a recipe she was making, and, um, since I can't go into a packey and not get beer, well, you know. Right?
So here's this beer on the end cap of one of the aisles. Caught my eye. Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout from North Coast Brewing. I mean, look at that label. You're going to say no to that man? Frankly, I was too afraid to not buy this. Dude looks rather serious. Anyhow, I am so glad I did. This is a classic stout, a masterpiece of stoutiness. Thick, rich, foamy body. Nice hoppy edge to it. Hints of smoke and chocolate, but the flavor is balanced, it doesn't clobber you over the head. Long aftertaste. Everything that arises from this brew feels right, feels natural. You know from the first sip that you're in the hands of professionals here. Nine percent ABV which, if a quick scan of my memory banks is correct, is rather high for a stout, but hey, that's not something I'm prone to complaining about. A bit pricey at $8 for a four pack, but you have my word that it's worth it. A fine, fine beer.
Rating: 8.5
Man, did I have high hopes for this beer. River Horse Brewing's Tripel Horse has it going on there on the shelf. Belgian style, cool label, etc. But, ultimately, it disappointed. The main thing? It feels flat. Now, as I've noted before, Belgians and barley wines generally have very fine, very low levels of carbonation. This beer, on the other hand, tastes flat. I literally thought something was wrong with it when I opened it and poured it into my glass. No head whatsoever. Not a trace of foam. And none of the fine bubbles in the body you'd expect.
And what sucks is this: The flavor puts some serious boots to the bum. Mrs. Toast was digging on it big time. It's a malty hit, but there's a tiny trace of hops to keep it honest. I get almost a honey feeling from it. Yep, honey and ... wait ... grass? Wheat? Odd for the style, but it works. Heavy mouth feel, syrupy even. A strong hint of alcohol (it's 10% ABV). I'm tellin' ya, it's like there's a great beer in here struggling to get out. A little more bubbly, a little polish on it, and they'd have something. As it is, good but not great. As I said, a disappointment.
Rating: 6.0
Our final contestant this week is a local boy. Paper City Brewing is located in Holyoke, Massachusetts, which is a semi-urban satellite of the great, gleaming metropolis of Springfield, Mass. Tracy and I actually went to a Paper City-sponsored show a couple years back where her ex's band was the headliner. They're really cool. (The brewery and the band.)
So, anyhow, when we were loading up last week, I picked up a six of their Winter Palace Wee Heavy Ale. Nice snag, if I do say so myself. They bill this as a Scotch Ale, and while it's not quite that, it gets closer than your typical American microbrew does when they aim in that direction.
Oops. I digressed.
So, back to Wee Heavy. Nice fuckin' beer. Big old slap of flavor. A lot going on. It's got the caramel you want in a Scotch Ale, sure enough. Body is nice and big and foamy -- more foamy than you'd expect, really. Fills your mouth right up. Flavor-wise, the malt almost buries the hops completely. Typical of the species, but I wish they'd let the green goblin step out a bit more in this one. Boy, does that malt stay on your tongue, though. Altogether pleasant sensation. Yummy. This is a highly drinkable beer. Chances are you're not going to find it in your area, though, as PC is primarily a local affair. If you do see it, grab some.
Rating: 7.5
[2006.01.02 - 04:45 P.M.] POST OF THE YEAR?
I know it's only January 2nd, but is it too early to nominate Shakes for a Post Of The Year Koufax?
See, this is called putting on a clinic. This is called dropping the fucking hammer:
The America that most people want, and the America that most people live in, was brought to them by progressives, who still want to make sure every American, irrespective of skin color, sexual orientation, gender, religion, or class, can live in the America they want to live in, too. And on their behalf, I ask those who seek to marginalize the Left: How dare you?
The truth is, any American who disdains progressives probably has progressives to thank for that luxury.
I’m not suggesting that progressive policies are flawless, or that progressives have solved all of America’s problems (or are even capable of doing so). But I would like a modicum of perspective from those—including many of those in the wanking Democratic Party—who have benefited from scores of legislation derived from an inclusive but vast progressive movement, and now see fit to stand in judgment of progressives, condemning them to disenfranchisement from the political process and conflating them with the radical Right. Wanting drinkable water, breathable air, a functioning safety net, universal healthcare, alternative energies, true equality, fair elections, fair taxation, improved public education, and increased workers’ rights isn’t radical. It’s a worthy and achievable agenda, and, perhaps more importantly, it’s what America wants. Polled on issues alone, that is domestic agenda most Americans support.
And the conservative movement, including the current administration and the congressional GOP leadership, does not simply dispute progressives’ tactics for achieving these goals. They have systematically sought to undermine each and every last one of them.
Dems moan that the GOP is great at framing language and debates, and that’s true. It’s difficult to compete with the kind of mendacity that allows one to label a massive, orchestrated plundering of the environment The Clean Skies Act. But the Dems need to stop being ashamed of progressives. We are the history of much of what is right with America, and I’m sick and bloody tired of the compulsion to categorize us as anything less. You, and everyone else who looks down their noses at progressives, can shove your contempt for us straight up your arses, you ungrateful pricks.
Folks, that ball is outta here.
Being a pair of hopeless pun addicts, every time Tracy and I see a six pack of 
(Programming Note: On behalf of the staff here at TwoGlasses Productions, I would like to apologize for the absence of Beer Blogging last weekend. We were experiencing technical difficulties.)
Appropriate, I suppose, that on the same weekend we take down the X-Mas tree and put away the decorations, I close out the holiday season with 
Now that's a little more like it. That's a little more what I expect from a Winter seasonal. What's the salient feature of 
