ranty rant rant

A very quick* - because there is only so long I can think rationally about this evil nutcase - word about Rush Limbaugh's response to Al Gore's speech.

This isn't going to be about how Rush is wrong, by the way.** It's about how he's a petty asshole.

I can't find the text of his response right now so you'll have to take my word about this (which Jeremy can verify since he was the person who showed the page to me in the first place), but in the transcript Rush (or whoever does his dirty laundry for him) corrects Al Gore while quoting him. It went something like this.

"Abu Grab (sic - Abu Ghraib)"

That's what was printed on Rush's website. Now let's remember that Al's speech was audio, not print. So it's not like Al, speaking at NYU, took the time to spell out, incorrectly, the name of the prison. But of course, his remarks were prepared in advance and they were lying on paper in front of him, and in those printed remarks he would have had to spell it out. Let's consult the transcript.

With the help of the handy-dandy Find function on the computer, you can see that Al's remarks contain the phrase "Abu Ghraib" no less than ten times. A search for "Abu Grab" (or even just plain "grab") turns up how many results? You guessed it - Frank Stallone.

So clearly Rush (or whoever does his dirty laundry for him) wasn't spellchecking the printed text of Al's speech. Well, then, he must have been criticizing his pronunciation. In his speech, Al pronounces Abu Ghraib in a way that sounds sort of like "Abu Grab" or "Abu Grehb." I guess Rush had a problem with that, and wanted to mock it. But any simple Google search for "abu ghraib pronunciation" will reveal (along with nine hits - of the first ten - noting Bush's perhaps more obvious and pathetic stumble over the term) a Slate article on the correct pronunciation of the name of the prison. What do we learn?

The word doesn't share the diphthong vowel sound of "grave" or "grape" as many newscasters seem to think; instead, the vowel is closer to that in "ebb," but is slightly more extended. So the proper pronunciation sounds something like a French person using a rolling "r" to render "grehhb."

Al Gore, then, both spells and pronounces it correctly. (In the case of pronunciation, and remembering that he doesn't actually speak Arabic, I think it's not out of line to allow him the tiniest margin of error - it wasn't perfect but he got the basic sounds right.) Why then the condescending "sic" followed by correction from Rush?

He's just a petty asshole.

* Did I say "quick"? Sorry. It was gonna be quick, but ... oops.
** I mean, his wrongness obviously comes into play, but Rush and wrongness are like peas and carrots, so ... duh.

how about john mccain?

Dana Milbank is funnier than I would have guessed.

friends don't let friends be unaware of mickey rourke circa 1986

Unless your friends reserve an evening to spend on the living room couch with chocolate, mochi ice cream, three kinds of cheese you've never tried, two bottles of wine you can't pronounce, and 9 1/2 Weeks, I'm pretty sure they're not as good as the ones I've got.

I had never seen it before (partially because it looks and is terrible, partially because I was four when it came out and my parents weren't the type to let their kids watch softcore porn movies of this particular - ahem - nature) but apparently we actually own a copy on VHS, and with the DVD player out of commission it became the natural choice. Now, Kim Basinger was 80s-hot in that movie. If she'd been transplanted wholesale into the next decade she would have been hideous - luckily, 80s-hot turned into 90s-beautiful for her. Mickey Rourke, on the other hand, was timeless hot. (Not timeless by every definition, unfortunately, but certainly in the sense that I didn't have to mentally give him an up-to-date hair and wardrobe change.

The days before our lease expires are getting fewer and fewer and there aren't going to be many more nights the girls and I and our flocks of adoring suitors will spend on that couch. That couch has seen a lot of action over the past two years. We sing in-house karaoke on that couch. I saw some of my favorite movies for the first time while sitting on that couch. That couch has seen a number of boyfriends, and many a houseguest. Some of the things that couch has been through I wouldn't even know about if I hadn't had the surprise of hearing it from my room upstairs in the middle of the night.

Of course, the couch is only a symbol (and a soft place to sit while we watch movies). What I'll really miss is the company of some of my best friends and, I swear to god, the only reason I'd be tempted to stay longer in this military-industrial complex masquerading as a city. So girls? This bad boy's for you.

Update: I kid you not, I just received the following text message from one of my roommates:

Ain't work all day. Come home, eat cheese and watch 9 1/2 weeks again.

al al al al al al al al

God DAMN. God damn. Phew.

- video clips
- transcript

bathroom humor

At the risk of stating the obvious, a lot of shit goes down at the office restroom. Women have pow-wows in there, they talk about work, about life - they talk from stall to stall, they talk while they wash hands, sometimes they hang around in there for awhile after they're done. I don't get it, but whatever. I think I'm too young and hip to understand.

But today I heard the weirdest noise I've ever heard in a bathroom. The sound of a can of soda being popped open. (Or a can of beer. Could've been a can of beer. I wouldn't want to, y'know, jump to any conclusions about what's likely in the office restroom and what isn't.) I'd seen a woman at the counter on my way in and I'd just closed the stall door behind me when I heard it and was flung into a state of confusion. Was she going to eat lunch in there? Was she going to eat and drink and listen to me pee? Did she do this often? For fuck's sake, why? All my questions went unanswered, for a moment later she left. I'm still nonplussed.

george w. bush's fictional iraq

One of the things that frustrates me most about watching and listening to the President speak is that his descriptions of the world are like exercises in make-believe. When the most striking thing about his speeches are their sermon quality and the rhetoric he uses to paint the world in black and white, it's hard to discern anything substantive in them at all. But even after succeeding in picking out the bits that aren't heavily laden with moralistic big talk, all we're left with is a collection of images that doesn't seem to represent reality.

Bush said "terrorists know that Iraq is now the central front in the war on terror," and that we routed them in Afghanistan and with that victory, moved onto this battlefield. But Iraq is only one of many fronts, one being, still, Afghanistan, left to deal with the omissions and mistakes that began at the end of 2001. He leaves it noticeably unsaid, just as he's ignored it for two years.

He said, "There are difficult days ahead, and the way forward may sometimes appear chaotic. Yet our coalition is strong and our efforts are focused and unrelenting, and no power of the enemy will stop Iraq's progress." It's not just the way forward that seems chaotic - it's the disastrous present, too. And the mismanagement of the past fourteen months, indeed, the past forty - ever since the administration started planning to boot Saddam but somehow avoided like the plague the monumental and equally challenging task of rebuilding his country. The coalition isn't strong - its biggest member has a population the majority of which believes things are going poorly in Iraq, its main ally's population has believed that all along, one of the major partners recently withdrew, troop strength is stretched but inadequate, and even the Republican hawks of the US Congress needed some Bush-led rallying last week to be kept in line with his optimism.

He said, "All along, some have questioned whether the Iraqi people are ready for self-government, or want it, and all along, the Iraqi people have given their answers." Yes, Iraqis want to govern themselves. They also hate him. The portion of the Iraqi population that disapproves of Bush is in the eightieth percentile range. He also said, "Coalition forces and the Iraqi people have the same enemies: the terrorists, illegal militia and Saddam loyalists who stand between the Iraqi people and their future as a free nation." But a significant number of Iraqis actually support one of Bush's main enemies, al-Sadr. His approval rating in Iraq is higher than Bush's is there. It's practically at the level of Bush's over here! And why? Because the people of Iraq don't believe America is on their side.

"At every stage," Bush said, "the United States has gone to the United Nations." He doesn't mention that when the answers of the UN failed to please him, he went ahead without its support. Even if that was justified, that wouldn't excuse him claiming allegiance to the international body now, just for the sake of presenting the appearance of multilateralism.

He said, "Despite past disagreements, most nations have indicated strong support for the success of a free Iraq, and I am confident they will share in the responsibility of assuring that success." But that belies the uncertainty and hesitation in countries like Germany that the US stood so firmly and hatefully against last year - hesitation about what commitment they can provide, uncertainty over the methods of ensuring a better future in Iraq.

Bush said we will construct a new prison, and then "we will demolish the Abu Ghraib Prison as a fitting symbol of Iraq's new beginning." But we're nearly thirteen months into the post-Saddam period of Iraq's history. Its new, torture-free beginning should have been a year ago. And while Bush pledges to destroy the building where abuses took place, he's distancing himself from the investigations into those abuses, sensing that some Americans, oh, possibly from the fanatical right, are perhaps outraged over the outrage over them. He let his DOD buddy "take responsibility" and then applauded him on a job well done; he stands by while the soldiers involved pass the buck upwards and the highest officials pass it downwards, pretending that responsibility has been accepted while denying that the problem was systemic and refusing to acknowledge that major changes need to be made. Destroying a building doesn't dismantle the system of abuse for which it is nothing but a symbol.

Maybe most ominously of all, Bush said that, "American soldiers and civilians on the ground have come to know and respect the citizens of Iraq." Have they? Regular killing of innocent civilians - thousands upon thousands have died so far - and the grotesque abuse of prisoners most of whom were arrested mistakenly? Iraqis resent a foreign presence, Bush noted, "just as we would." How would we react to a foreign presence that abused and killed, while simultaneously claiming friendship?

I know there have been successes in Iraq. I'm sure that there are Americans over there, civilians and soldiers alike, who have cultivated friendships with their Iraqi counterparts, and that there must be some Iraqi somewhere who thinks the US is at least trying to do a good job. But the overwhelming majority of facts - not glossed-over twisted-reality summaries - are discouraging, and the prospects for the future are sad and grim. And listening to Bush pretend like future hardships come from the forces of evil rather than from bad policy, poor choices and grievous military and political error is one of the most dismal things I've done recently. When the President talks about this fantasy world he seems to have invented, I can't not be depressed about the outlook for the real one.

i won't lie

I'm not promising any noticeable change in quality with this move, people. One step at a time.

That said, though: wheeeee!

metaphors are stupid

Well, sometimes they are. Or maybe I just have a low tolerance for them (see: my wavering enthusiasm for Tom Robbins). Anyway, I'm scanning through a business paper for work, and there's a profile about a local executive, a column this paper does every week. There's a given set of questions the chosen executives answer for the column. I hate most of them - "favorite status symbol," "favorite automobile," really annoying stuff to read. One of the questions is "favorite quote." And this guy, this tech firm exec, answers, "Kites rise highest against the wind - not with it." Winston Churchill.

Now there's a dumb metaphor. Let's assume the kite represents a person, say, you. I think that's safe. And by "rise," we mean "succeed," since a kite succeeds if it flies high in the air. So you succeed best if you're against the wind - so what does the wind represent? Can't be a person: we already said that people are represented by kites, so if the metaphor was supposed to mean that you succeed best when you don't conform to other people, then Churchill would have said, "Kites rise highest against all the other kites, not with them."

Let's think logically. Kites and wind are made of completely difference substances. The kite Churchill was thinking of was probably plastic. Wind is moving air. So
plastic : you :: air : ?

I'm drawing a blank, aren't you? I think we need to think more fundamentally about the kite and the wind. Plastic is a solid. Air is a mixture of gases. So
solid : you :: gas : ?

Now we're getting somewhere. You, like a solid, are something I can grab onto. By contrast, I can't hold a gas in my hand. What's that just like? Hello, Sound of Music, anybody? "How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?" Clearly, Winston was talking about moonbeams.

So the message that one of the greatest orators of the last century was trying to impart was, "You will succeed best if you're against a moonbeam, not with it." That makes no sense whatsoever. What a stupid metaphor.

big news, for some reason

I'm thinking of wearing a sign that says "I ALREADY KNOW WHAT GWYNETH NAMED HER DAUGHTER."

tolkien dirty

I think I mentioned that I'm sitting in on a class about J.R.R. Tolkien. A few friends of mine are actually enrolled in the class, and when lectures get dull we pass around a notebook. Today's game: Tolkien meets adult cinema.

• Getting Merry With Pippin
• Gandalf Wields His Staff
• FRO DO ME!
• The Cock Ring Of Power
• Fucking Like Hobbits
• The Riders of Rohan
• Bearded Dwarf Women Exposed
• The One-Eye of Sauron
• Treebeard: I'm All Wood
• Aragorn, Arwen, and Eowyn: The Threesome You've Always Dreamt Of
• Deep In The Hobbit Hole
• Wormtongue
• Legolas Shoots His Wad
• Orcs Porc
• Dwarf Girls Gone Wild
• Return of the FucKing
• Helm's Deep Throat
• Eomer The (Hung Like A) Horse Lord Of Rohan
• Huorny
• Sauron Rises Again
• Spring Break Rivendell
• Bilbone
• Frodo Takes Sam Deeper (Into Mordor)

this is what we say when we talk about stuff we don't like

As ever, Krissa cements my undying love for her. Can anything escape or withstand our lit-laden mockery?

her: Plus don't forget his Sniveling Henchman. The Quirrell to his Voldemort.
me: The Saruman to his Sauron. The Judas to his Lucifer.
her: THE AZRIEL TO HIS GARGAMEL.
me: The CHARON to his HADES
her: The HAHAAHHAHAHA BUSH to his HAHAHAHHAH CHENEY

I guess even we couldn't think of anything to top that.

nothing compares 2 this

In the past week I've dreamt of fighting in a world war, crossing America on foot, and living in New York City with not a penny in my pocket. Then last night brought the most terrifying dream of all. With the stars of The West Wing cast alongside some of my closest friends and family as well as faces I didn't recognize, I dreamt that people had their skin torn off and little spy devices planted in the raw flesh.

I'm not one for dream interpretation in general, but I think this means my mind is not totally at peace.

Luckily, my friends and I have found a new (for us) way to release life's pressures.

Karaoke!

Don't get me wrong, I'm a total snob. But it turns out even total snobs can sing their troubles away. All you need is a little cash, some smuggled drinks, an Asian district, and a group of friends who aren't afraid to have guilty pleasures. (Don't tell me some hidden part of you doesn't love "Total Eclipse of the Heart.")

I never thought stress release could be so fun and musical. I think roller skating is next.

PS: What should we sing next time?

for your reference

Stan's listed a number of worthwhile events you should think about if you're in the LA area. Each and every has my approval.

friday, 3:30pm

I am here in body but my mind is sooooo totally sleeping at the beach.

This is the end of my first full week back at work after a five-and-one-half week period that despite leaving time to acquire a Bonafide Tan and to read a good dozen books I nonetheless have no qualms about labeling "disastrous." (I have one qualm, actually, but that comes from having a sense of perspective; this week the words "disaster" and "atrocity" have had such sadly frequent use that my life shrinks in humble comparison. But anyway.)

Without getting into too much boring detail, I'll say that I lost my job at the unintentional but undeniable error of my employer and was absolutely misled on a weekly basis about the amount of time I was supposed to be out of work. Every day I was more dejected and the faces of my friends got more skeptical that I hadn't begun working again. I could have looked for a lower-paying, immediately-available job, and I felt (maybe wrongly) that some people thought less of me for not doing so. But I knew, the way you know that as soon as you walk away from a pot of water it'll boil or that as soon as you leave a bus stop the bus will arrive, that once I found other work I would get my old job back. (That perception was hardened by regular reassurances by HR that the "next day or two" would bring good news.)

I've rarely felt like more of a failure than I have over the past month, when I found myself homebound and lethargic, asking for rent for my birthday; when I was forced to cancel plans because of this thing, not just plans like a night out or a meal outside the kitchen but big plans, plans I'd been making for months that I saw as my ticket out of DeadEndVille, California. I tried to keep a happy face on and limit my negative remarks to simple annoyance at my employer or at my circumstantial misfortune, but I was depressed. Not teen-angsty, like my sixteen-year-old self, and not heartbroken, which describes my emotional state the last time I felt hopeless for weeks at a time, and also not suicidal or severely depressed. It was mild and practically inconsequential, I knew that. But it bit anyway.

Things haven't changed altogether yet. I still haven't gotten a paycheck and am basically surviving on a combination of birthday generosity, cheap homemade meals and the INSERT INFINITELY MORE SHAME THAN I CAN DESCRIBE help of my completely-broke-themselves-but-somehow-able-to-be-amazingly-generous parents. But I'm busy as all fuck until late afternoon everyday, and though often I wish (now, for instance, and perhaps in this case "YEARN" would be a better word) I were sunbathed and seaside with my eyes closed to the heat and the energy-sapping week, I'm grateful. Grateful that I'm working, grateful that as much as I hate the process I'll eventually be able to pull myself up out of this ditch, grateful for the sympathy I've received from friends better than I could ask for or deserve, grateful for parents who shut me up when I tell them I never want to be indebted to them and who could not make it clearer that they care more about me than themselves. So many people say this, but I don't know any better people than them. My mother told me recently that their divorce lawyers are uncertain how to treat them because they're both so intent on being undemanding and as generous as possible to one another. I still feel like a failure for cashing in (though temporarily) on their good will, but the immeasurable amount of comfort they and their patient counsel have given me make me optimistic. Maybe I can get out of this ditch after all.

so you're telling me you believe that?

I'd really like two hours, a Republican friend, The O'Reilly Factor, and TiVo.

i'm gon party like it's, my birfday

It's that time of year again. I'm not sure what to expect from 22. So far I'm handling it like a good friend who's sweet enough to walk you home at the end of the evening but you keep an eye on because you're afraid that at any moment he might suddenly grab you and kiss you on the mouth and ruin the whole night.

But Happy Outdoor Sex Day, everyone! Go celebrate it. Go!

wheel of how the fuck did you get that wrong?

P R O O F    P O S _ T_ _ E

Do you get it? Of course you do, you're not an idiot! The contestant I saw miss it, though, well, he might be another story.

This entry brought to you by the letters I and V, and by the number $25,000.

seasons change, work doesn't ... much

Two things have changed since I was here last.

1. The ladies' restroom is no longer scented with egg nog fragrance.
2. I make more money.

So far, so good.

wherever you go, whatever you do,

I'll be right here waiting for you.

The funniest thing I've seen since March, I think, is here (find the one that says "Prince Charles Scandal"). It's old, but I don't have cable and didn't see it when it aired, and I found it browsing through Daily Show clips last night. Please watch it. I beg of you.

hot hot heat, redux

I understand that we're having record temperature highs in California (it's 11 pm and it's 75 degrees outside my window - and it's around 100 degrees further inland). I also understand that dry heat can cause fires, and that authorities are watchful of the potential for dangerous wildfires. But honestly, to watch the news, you'd think we'd never experienced heat before. "Tips for hot weather"? "Where you should and shouldn't be in these temperatures"? "Record highs and how it could endanger you and your family"? IT'S SAN DIEGO, PEOPLE. IT'S HOT. HOT IS WHAT SAN DIEGO DOES.

The tips for hot weather on the local news are funny, too. Like, they'll tell you not to go running in midday (what?!) and to make sure you drink water (I know, totally counterintuitive). And then the newscasters make all these comments about the heat - "Man, it is hot! I could sure use some ice cream" - and I'm like, what are you guys going to DO when it's SUMMER? You're going to be out of material before Memorial Day! There are only so many cold foods! It's so awe-filled, it's as though all the local stations hired eskimos to do their human interest and weather segments.

Not to overstress the issue but check this shit out! Don't bother reading, actually, I'll tell you what it says: "What the fuck? It's fucking hot outside! Who would have expected it, here, in 'sunny San Diego' of all places?"

thus ends a purgatorial sentence

I just got out of my last 3:00pm cool shower after my last midday lie-in-sunshine and play-in-pool time, and I'm about to have my last mid-afternoon lunch and maybe I'll have a beer with that because I GOT MY JOB BACK I GOT MY JOB BACK I GOT MY JOB BACK WHEEEE!

sasquatch festival

There's a town about a two hours' drive from where I grew up in Spokane, Washington. The town is called George. Next to George, Washington there is a big amphitheatre called the Gorge (so named because it overlooks a spectacular gorge through which flows the Columbia River). The Gorge at George, they call it. I really want to go there this month.

Why?

Well, aside from it involving a road trip that would bring me two hours from my old front door, there's this.

Thievery Corporation
The Roots*
The Postal Service*
The Shins*
Built To Spill
Sleater-Kinney*
The New Pornographers
Cat Power*
The Long Winters
The Black Keys
Gary Jules
The Decemberists*
Donavon Frankenreiter
Alexi Murdoch
Preston School of Industry
Fruit Bats
Apollo Sunshine
Aveo
Visqueen
Harvey Danger

* omg omg omg.

nonconfrontational

Everyone's allowed a unique conversational style, a unique comfort level, a distinct personality. Sure. But I really can't stand it when someone doesn't have the balls to say something because he or she is "nonconfrontational." You know, like, if I ask a friend if he or she wants to come somewhere with me, and instead of an answer, I get "Well, I have to do laundry, and then I should probably read this book, and I feel like my girlfriend wants to see me, and I also haven't gone grocery shopping for like, ages."

Maybe I think it chafes particularly because I had a boyfriend once who used to dance around yes/no questions in infuriating ways, like asking "Do I have to?" or "You'll be mad if I don't go, won't you?" and now I have a low tolerance for the inability to answer a yes or no question with one of those words.

I also, I guess, have a low tolerance for other people's inability to say "no" to things in general, or to argue. Probably because I was a pushover for so long and I despise that part of my former self. I didn't think critically back then (I really liked She's All That, for example). Now I criticize and argue about everything! But at least I can say "No." As far as I'm concerned, nonconfrontational is just a six-syllable synonym for sissy.

one more

This is the Very Last Time I complain about this, I promise. I just felt like telling you that you'll know things are going downhill when your mother asks what you want for your birthday and you hear the word "rent" escape your lips.

hot hot heat

A little while ago, my heater turned on. Warm air flowed from the vents in my house for a minute or so, and then stopped. I'm completely baffled because a)the heater isn't on and b)it's - lemme check - yup, a BAJILLION degrees outside.

(What's a bajillion? Well, when it's hot outside, you want to go out and enjoy it. When it's a bajillion degrees, you cower indoors by the air conditioner.)

A bajillion is a lot of degrees for the second day of May. The heat has been building steadily for a month now, and with the exception of one day, almost an exact twenty-four hour period of grey and rain, the sky has looked like this:

As a result, my skin looks kind of like this:

And because there's not much to do in the sun besides swim and read, the pages I've read in the past month look something like this:

Unemployment has its upsides. On the downside, though, my bank account sort of looks like this:

politically motivated?

Nightline is under fire for its "politically motivated" reading of the names of American soldiers who died in Iraq. It's stunning that there is even a debate about this. Someone said that the show was intended to "turn public opinion against the war." What, the part of the public that didn't know people DIED in war?