London Dispatches = weak tea.

Greetings from London, my dearly beloved Many Tens of Loyal Readers™.  I have been remiss in posting regularly, and for that I sincerely apologize.  It is no excuse that I have been working on a piece for The Political Junkies For Progressive Democracy, and have not yet had time to coherently assemble all of my interview and research notes, thoughts thereon, and related photos.  Except, oh wait yeah, it sort of is an excuse.

Before I left, I had a general idea of what I wanted to write about on this trip.  As a result of my endeavors here, however, my focus has narrowed to subject matter simultaneously more interesting and more treacherous than I originally envisioned.  I need to think about this very carefully and write about it very thoughtfully, and thus it will naturally take time.  This has proven to be especially problematic in light of the delightful distractions on offer in London.

For instance…

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The British Museum.  The building itself is stunning, a fluid juxtaposition of modern and ancient, all soft palettes and diffuse natural light:

britishmuseum

I saw the Rosetta Stone, a fragment of an Egyptian legal decree (from 196 BCE) carved in three different languages.  Upon its rediscovery (in 1799 CE) by a French soldier on an expedition to Egypt, it was a key to deciphering ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs.  Egypt has been seeking the stone’s return since 2003.  Meanwhile, it is the most visited object in the British Museum.

Bank Levy. Steve Bell (b. 1951), Ink and watercolour, 2011. © Steve Bell 2011.I also enjoyed Bubbles and bankruptcy: financial crises in Britain since 1700.  Here’s part of the blurb for the exhibition:

The current financial crisis is not the first to have affected Britain, and it is unlikely to be the last. In this display you can find out more about the extraordinary stories of mismanagement, speculative frenzy, fraud and failure which permeate the history of finance. From the nation’s first major speculative bubble, caused by the South Sea Company in 1720, to the UK banking crisis in 2008–2012, the display uses original share certificates, prospectuses, banknotes and other fascinating objects to explain how, why and when financial crises have happened.

And by extension, it explains how and why —if not precisely when — devastating financial crises in underregulated capitalist systems operating in formal democracies will happen again.  The financial crisis in Britain is significantly worse than the mess in the U.S., mainly as a result of massive injections of a toxic substance known as “austerity.” (In the U.S. we are being given a slower intravenous drip, so that like the frog in gradually warming water we will not realize we are doomed until we are well and fully cooked.)  It’s so bad here that even Goldman Sachs — Goldman Sachs! — is telling the British government to knock it the fuck off.  I have to give the curators credit:  it’s an intriguing idea for an exhibit.  And I was pleased to see a Guy Fawkes mask on display, but the exhibit itself was small in scope and light on content.

iceageartvenusI regret that I will not be in London to see Ice Age art: arrival of the modern mind, which opens at the museum on February 7.

Here (pdf) you can see detailed descriptions of some of the pieces that will be on display, along with thumbnail images.

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I am thinking of redoing the Palace gates in this style:

newpalacegate

Wellington Arch, Hyde Park Corner, Knightsbridge.

newpalacegatequadriga2Discerning Loyal Readers™ will particularly appreciate the equestrian statuary atop the arch.  (Also this awesome word: quadriga.)  It depicts the angel of peace descending upon the chariot of war, or somesuch naive delusion.  Designed by Adrian Jones, it is the largest bronze sculpture in Europe.

Interesting factoids:

  • Built between 1826-1830.
  • Much of the intended exterior ornamentation was omitted as a cost-saving measure, necessitated by the king’s overspending on the refurbishment of Buckingham Palace.
  • The arch is hollow inside, and until 1992 housed a small police station. It is open to the public and contains three floors of exhibits detailing its history; visitors can also step onto terraces on both sides of the top of the arch, for views of Green Park and Hyde Park.
  • One half of the arch functions as a ventilation shaft for the London Underground. This causes on average three emergency calls each year to the London Fire Brigade from people believing smoke is coming from the arch when in fact it is warm air and dust from the subway.

The Palace’s proposed replica of the Wellington Arch will not be hosting a police station.  Or tourists.  Or, needless to say, a ventilation shaft for the E train.

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LOLCAT – Teh Exhibishun.

Hahaha.

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I’ve seen some West End shows including War Horse, which SUUUUUUUUUCKED, and Matilda the Musical, which I FUCKING LOOOOOOOOOOOOVED.

Words cannot express the depth of my loathing for War Horse, but you know what?  I think I should try.  Okay:  awesome horse puppetry, great staging, blah blah blah.  Technical theatre craft at its finest.  But the novelty wears off in five minutes.  One is then left with a Very Special Episode of Lassie Come Home comprised of nearly every single cliched piece of dialogue and predictable plot device known to hackdom and lasting three excruciating fucking hours.  The casual, thoughtless acceptance of the notion that going off to war in a foreign nation is noble, natural and just.  The toxic narrative that a man’s character is forged in war.  The abysmally small number of female characters, and those relegated to 2-dimensional, overwrought, emotional stereotypes.  All of that wondrous theatrical magic deployed in the service of validating the simplistic fantasy world imagined by right-wing chickenhawks the world over.  Blech.

Matilda, on the other hand, was fucking badass.  Based on the 1988 novel by Roald Dahl, the music and lyrics are by Palace fave Tim Minchin.  I loved Roald Dahl as a child, and treasured my dog-eared copy of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.  I never read Matilda, as it was written after I had “outgrown” children’s books — well, all of them except for Atlas Shrugged.  (*sigh*).  I only rarely see musical theatre in New York:  for one thing it’s ridiculously expensive; worse, it’s frequently terrible.  (Truefax: once upon a time, Your Humble Monarch™ received B.A. in Theatre Arts, cum laude, thank you very much, from an actual, accredited University.  She is therefore eminently qualified to pronounce that musical theatre on Broadway is generally awful.)  The last musical I saw was off-Broadway:  last year I took my teenage nieces to see Carrie the Musical* (yes, that Carrie) at the Lucille Lortel Theatre on Christopher Street.

But Matilda?  It was a raucous production.  Though it was difficult to catch ever word sung, Minchin’s lyrics are excellent and the music appropriately dark, eloquent and powerful.  The story is extraordinarily subversive, profoundly anti-authoritarian, an anti-anti-intellectual manifesto.  The protagonist is a little girl trapped in a family of shallow, abusive @$$holes, but Matilda is by no means some sweet, hapless, innocent requiring salvation by a White Knight (though she does come to the happiest ending one could wish for her, considering her circumstances).  Instead, Matilda is an unabashedly brilliant bookworm, a mischievous prankster, a fierce advocate for justice and fairness, and most refreshingly, angry. There is an unfortunate (and entirely unnecessary) recourse to the supernatural that bugs me, but at least it leans toward the occult as opposed to Jeezus.

In short, Matilda is joyous.  In a departure from tradition, I plan to see the New York version, which opens in April.

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*Believe it or not, Carrie the Musical was surprisingly good.  Marin Mazzie, who lived right across the hall from me when I lived in Hell’s Kitchen, was amazing as Carrie’s fundy Christturd mother.  The women’s duets in particular were something to behold, and I imagine the writers had a ball with the unusual task of writing such pieces.

Merry Crispmas.

quentincrispVia an informative email from Don Ardell I received on Christmas day, it came to my attention that English writer and raconteur Quentin Crisp shares a birthday with Our Lard and Savorer Jeezus Haploid Keereist.  Don quipped, “I’m tempted to create a little manager scene next year for the baby Quentin.”

I figured why wait?  I sent him back this:

quentinmanger

Not to be outdone, Don replied, “Merry Crispmas.”

And so it was that I found myself culling Quentin Crisp quotes from various online sources to add to the Palace’s extensive quote collection.  There was just one problem:  there were so many good ones.  Twenty-five, in fact, and I could have easily added many more.  Because Don had sent me down this particular rabbit hole, I asked him to help cull the Crisp collection down to a more reasonable number.  He obliged, but “only under duress.”  “If tortured,” he said, “I might pretend to have favorites.”

* * * * *

Born “Denis Charles Pratt” in a conventional English suburb on Christmas day in 1908, Quentin Crisp grew up with “effeminate tendencies, which he flaunted by parading the streets in make-up and painted nails, and working as a rent-boy.”  He spent over thirty years working as a professional model in art colleges, an occupation he likened to being a “naked civil servant.” The Naked Civil Servant would become the title of his memoirs, published in 1968, and subsequently made into a television movie starring John Hurt in 1975.  The film rocketed both its lead actor and its subject to stardom.

Crisp spent the next decades performing his smashingly successful one man show (in London, New York and on tour), acting in films (he played Elizabeth I in Orlando), writing books and penning movie reviews and columns for U.S. and U.K. publications.  He lived in New York for many years on 3rd Street in the East Village.  Just as he had in London, Crisp maintained a publicly listed telephone number and considered it his duty to have a conversation with absolutely everyone who called him.  He would also accept almost any dinner invitation.  Dinner with Crisp was said to be one of the best shows in New York.

Sometimes called a “20th century Oscar Wilde,” Crisp was well-known for his witty bon mots: once asked if he were a “practicing homosexual,” he replied, “I didn’t practice. I was already perfect.”  Quentin Crisp died in 1999 at the age of 90.  But he left us a legacy of wisdom and hilarity.

* * * * *

While putting this post together, two things occurred to me.  One is that the spacious Palace is nowhere near capacity; it turns out that after babbling on and on here for more than two years, we have used up only 2% of our allotted space on the WordPress servers.  (And even that limit can be increased as much as desired — for a fee, of course.)  For all practical purposes, I am the proprietress of a virtually limitless domain.  Why, then, should my Many Tens of Loyal Readers™ be denied some arbitrary number Quentin Crisp quotes?  To save space?  For what, if not more Quentin Crisp quotes?

The second thing I realized is that Don is seriously onto something with putting baby Quentin in a manger and “Merry Crispmas.”  That’s right, people:  all that War on Christmas shit?  It just got real.  Your mission, all you godless heathens and/or people who hate Bill O’Reilly and would love nothing more than to see his head explode, is to work on imaginative ways to celebrate Crispmas next December 25.  Do whatever you can to spread the good word.  I’m getting right to work making Quentin Crisp figurines to substitute for the baybee Jeezus in nativity scenes all over New York.  I figure it’s the perfect time of year to do all the reconnaissance for appropriate sizing, placement and access.  Meanwhile, perhaps you can find some inspiration and enjoyment in these ditties.

All twenty-five of them.

* * * * *

Keeping up with the Joneses was a full-time job with my mother and father. It was not until many years later when I lived alone that I realized how much cheaper it was to drag the Joneses down to my level.

In an expanding universe, time is on the side of the outcast.

Exhibitionism is like a drug. Hooked in adolescence I was now taking doses so massive they would have killed a novice.

To my disappointment I now realized that to know all is not to forgive all. It is to despise everybody.

There was no need to do any housework at all. After four years the dirt doesn’t get any worse.

Health consists of having the same diseases as one’s neighbours.

God, from whose territory I had withdrawn my ambassadors at the age of fourteen. It had become obvious that he was never going to do a thing I said.

I now know that if you describe things as better as they are, you are considered to be romantic; if you describe things as worse than they are, you are called a realist; and if you describe things exactly as they are, you are called a satirist.

Another friend began to say, “Well, Quentin has a problem of adjusting himself to society and he…” This sentence was never finished. The ballet teacher expostulated, “I don’t agree. Quentin does exactly as he pleases. The rest of us have to adapt ourselves to him.”

If at first you don’t succeed, failure may be your style.

If love means anything at all it means extending your hand to the unlovable.

The very purpose of existence it to reconcile the glowing opinion we have of ourselves with the appalling things that other people think of us.

I recommend limiting one’s involvement in other people’s lives to a pleasantly scant minimum.

Ask yourself, if there was to be no blame, and if there was to be no praise, who would I be then?

A fair share of anything is starvation diet to an egomaniac.

The world now seems a stunningly ignoble place. It has not really grown all that much worse but appears to have done so because we know so much more about it than we did.

The formula for achieving a successful relationship is simple: you should treat all disasters as if they were trivialities but never treat a triviality as if it were a disaster.

There are three reasons for becoming a writer: the first is that you need the money; the second that you have something to say that you think the world should know; the third is that you can’t think what to do with the long winter evenings.

Vice is its own reward.

Euphemisms are unpleasant truths wearing diplomatic cologne.

Of course I lie to people. But I lie altruistically – for our mutual good. The lie is the basic building block of good manners. That may seem mildly shocking to a moralist – but then what isn’t?

Los Angeles is just New York lying down.

The worst part of being gay in the twentieth century is all that damn disco music to which one has to listen.

For flavor, instant sex will never supersede the stuff you have to peel and cook.

It is not the simple statement of facts that ushers in freedom; it is the constant repetition of them that has this liberating effect. Tolerance is the result not of enlightenment, but of boredom.

* * * * *

Merry Crispmas, indeed.

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Sources: http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Quentin_Crisp
http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/49216.Quentin_Crisp
http://thinkexist.com/quotes/quentin_crisp/:

In no uncertain terms: Israel and Gaza.

We are hardly deaf to the prominent voices of the liberal blogosphere; neither are we oblivious to their critics on the left.  In particular, writers who consistently offered scathing condemnation of evil policies enacted during the Bush administration lost all credibility when they utterly failed to criticize the same evil policies under Obama — or worse, began defending them.  I still read some of those writers, but with a jaundiced eye:  I find that they frequently make insightful or informative points, but since 2009 I am no longer under the illusion that these are people who object to evil on principle.  Put another way, I may visit their Palaces from time to time but I would never trust them with the keys to my own.  Or with children.

And so it was that I came across David O. Atkins’ recent piece at digby’s blog, which I read with accelerating horror and disgust.  Although he does not deign to say it, it was written in response to this post by Chris Floyd (whose Palace we find very much to our liking, and would not fear for the safety of any small children residing there).  The good Mr. Floyd had written about the deafening silence of leading progressive bloggers on the slaughter in Gaza, which I excerpt here at some length (although I urge you to go read the whole thing):

It sure was a quiet weekend in the progressive blogosphere, where peace, justice and the alleviation of human suffering is an earnest, burning concern. At Eschaton, Atrios gave an amiable shrug and declared, “I got nothing to say.” Digby and her co-pilot, David Atkins, did have a few things to say – about Sarah Palin, General Pants-Down Petraeus, the grubby “Grand Bargaining” in the Beltway, and several examples of the stupidity and perfidy of right-wing Republicans. The posters at Daily Kos plied the same themes.

But even for those who didn’t got nothing to say, it was all very much in a low-key, mopping-up, post-election mode. It seemed as if there were no major news events going on anywhere in the world that involved the violent, unjust infliction of human suffering, with the direct monetary, military and political support of United States government and its entire bipartisan political and media establishments. Nothing that might grab the attention — even in passing — of writers publicly and professionally dedicated to discussing and analyzing major news events involving American policy, politics and the media.

Anything like that going on this weekend? Anyone? Digby, Dave? No? Kos and the gang? Anything? Atrios?

Nope. They got nothing.

Not on Friday. Not on Saturday. Not by Sunday evening (as I write this).

If you were a follower of many of the major “progressive” bloggers, you could have passed the weekend blissfully unaware that the American-armed, American-backed Israeli military was busily raining death into the cramped and crowded concentration camp of Gaza. Children dying, old people being blown to bits in their houses, the Israeli government ordering a massive call-up of troops and reserves for a possible invasion; top officials from Egypt and Tunisia flying into the besieged camp to show solidarity, mass demonstrations across the Middle East, some meeting with violent repression, others threatening to escalate into revolutionary outpourings. On every side: death, turmoil, suffering, chaos, whole nations in ferment — and Barack Obama standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Benjamin Netanyahu in defending assassination, aggression and the bombardment of defenseless civilians with massive military force.

As everyone reading this well knows, the Palace currently operates as a strictly VIP operation:  Many Tens of Loyal Readers™ do not an A-List progressive blogger make.  (We prefer to think of our readership as exceptionally discerning.)  Still, we were more than a little stung by Floyd’s criticism.  After all, we too had remained silent.

Not out of cowardice or amoral indifference mind you, but at least in part from sheer, wanton laziness exacerbated by our rather notorious capriciousness — which vices look positively virtuous next to the aforementioned failings, I would add in my defense.  Nor did I avoid the topic of Gaza out of a sense of complicit guilt.  Such guilt, I strongly suspect, accounts for the silence on the part of Atkins, Kos, and the rest of the A-list prog bloggers who actively campaigned to reelect Barack Obama.  But as Loyal Readers know, I did not vote for Barack Obama.  Indeed, I deployed every weapon in the Palace arsenal in an effort to convince others to desert him in droves.  And I hope that this is not interpreted as some smug sense of vindication on my part, but in that series of posts (and elsewhere) I have said all I could think of to say about the unconscionable evil that is U.S. foreign policy, under Bush and now Obama.  Watching it play out this week in Gaza (again) I noted with a grave weariness that the details change, but the story arc never does.  Nor, apparently, does the blood-soaked self-deceit of the American public.  I do not feel vindicated:  I feel saddened, sickened, and, more troubling to me than anything else, resigned.  That is about as uninspired a state in which a writer can find herself.  And so I remained silent — or perhaps more accurately, distracted myself with other topics.  But whatever one might say of my motives, there is no denying this fact:  instead of opining on the American-armed, American-backed Israeli military busily raining death into the cramped and crowded concentration camp that is Gaza, I chose to write an insufferably long post about Conservative Personality Disorder and my theory that a hierarchical worldview is the nexus between fiscal and social conservatism.  And then I threw a fucking birthday party for Voltaire.

And so I will remedy my omission now.

I do not support Israeli actions against Palestinians.  One of those two groups is an impoverished, oppressed minority whose lands were (and are presently being) forcibly taken from them and whose children are stunted from malnutrition due to years of punishing sanctions following a victory by Hamas in a democratic election; the other one is a theocracy backed to the hilt by American military power.  And if there is one thing I hate, it’s a goddamn theocracy with heavy artillery.

The notion that Israel is acting in self defense is a lie so enormous it would be hilarious if it were not so deadly.  Look at this map [h/t born on the wrong continent]:

How does a defensive action result in the total conquest of someone else’s lands? The answer is that it does not. Israel is the aggressor. The maps of Israel then and now prove it. [source]

I have no love for Hamas, which desires nothing more than its own theocracy with heavy artillery (and as I believe we’ve already established, I fucking hate those).  I am certainly no fan of rockets being rained on Israeli civilians, and I condemn such actions by Palestinians or anyone else.  But I simply cannot bear Barack Obama, a unanimous U.S. Congress, and the entire U.S. media establishment deliberately ignoring the fact that those rockets were not unprovoked:  on November 14, Israeli forces assassinated Ahmed Jabari, the very Hamas minister with whom Israel had been negotiating a long-term peace agreement via a backdoor channel.  (Jabari was killed in a targeted airstrike that took out a bunch of innocent civilians too, including the 11-month old son of a BBC cameraman.)  As Chris Floyd put it:

In other words, the Netanyahu government deliberately scuttled a deal which would have provided exactly what it says it is seeking. They knew the assassination would kill the deal; they knew it would provoke violent relatiation.

I found illuminating this Op-Ed in The New York Times by Gershon Baskin, who with the knowledge of Israeli security officials had been crafting the negotiated proposal for a long-term cease-fire with Jabari (via an intermediary, the deputy foreign minister of Hamas) at the time he was killed:

In the draft, which I understand Mr. Jabari saw hours before he was killed, it was proposed that Israeli intelligence information transmitted through the Egyptians would be delivered to Mr. Jabari so that he could take action aimed at preventing an attack against Israel.

Moreover, it included the understanding that if Israel were to take out a real ticking bomb — people imminently preparing to launch a rocket — such a strike would not be considered a breach of the cease-fire and would not lead to escalation.

Instead, Mr. Jabari is dead — and with him died the possibility of a long-term cease-fire. Israel may have also compromised the ability of Egyptian intelligence officials to mediate a short-term cease-fire and placed Israel’s peace treaty with Egypt at risk.

This was not inevitable, and cooler heads could have prevailed. Mr. Jabari’s assassination removes one of the more practical actors on the Hamas side.

More from Baskin:

This war is being presented in Israel, once again, as a war of “no choice.” The people of Israel are rallying around the flag as would be expected anywhere in the world. The United States government has voiced its support of the Israeli operation by stating, “Israel has the full right to defend itself and protect its citizens.” It certainly does, but we must ask whether there is another way to achieve the same goal without the use of force.

And if we are not @$$holes, we must also ask why Israel has a right to defend itself but Palestinians do not.

Unlike David Atkins, I do not give a flying fuck if I am deemed a vicious anti-semitic terrorist enabler (or worse) for saying this:  I stand squarely on the side of all of the world’s children and its innocent civilians — and the government of Israel is the belligerent, bellicose aggressor in the region.  Just like its big, bullying brother, the United States government, which endorses and enables all of it.

But of everything related to the story I so shamelessly avoided writing about this week, this little nugget absolutely takes the cake:

Barack Obama: “There’s no country on earth that would tolerate missiles raining down on its citizens from outside its borders.”

Well, except maybe for Yemen.  Oh, and Somalia.  And Pakistan.  Afghanistan.  Libya. And now, apparently, Gaza.

RAGESOB.

Lesson five.

I was planning to write the other day about Michael Calleri, a long-time film critic in upstate New York, whose story has been making the rounds of the Twitt-o-Blog-o-verse.  As is often the case, David Futrelle beat me to it.  (He beat me on my recent Slut Vote post too, but only on a technicality:  I had submitted the Slut Vote piece to TPJMagazine by a November 8 deadline — and on November 9 the good Mr. Futrelle posted “Romney: Defeated by sluts?“  Such is the soul-crushing devastation to which Your Humble Monarch Blogger is routinely subjected.)  Since it’s too late to simply recount the story it and leave it at that, I will instead offer it up for examination as the fifth lesson in the Palace’s ongoing and highly-acclaimed seminar series on the subject of Conservative Personality Disorder.

Pencils ready, class?  Let’s begin.

The Michael Calleri story is a textbook case study in CPD.  Calleri reviewed films for a local weekly newspaper, The Niagara Falls Reporter, and for other print, online, radio and television venues.  In almost two decades as a movie critic he enjoyed complete journalistic independence: not one editor, publisher, producer, anchorperson, station manager or media owner had ever so much as hinted at which films Calleri should or should not write about, or how.  One day, the much beloved publisher of The Reporter moved to Los Angeles and sold the newspaper to some d00d; as Calleri puts it, “the new guy’s only genuine association with professional journalism was that he read newspapers.”  After hearring the rest of this story, one may reasonably doubt whether the d00d even had that much experience.

Soon after the paper changed ownership, Calleri found that his reviews were occasionally cut from the print edition of The Reporter; then they were subsequently dropped from the online edition as well.  He noticed that the names of two longtime colleagues, the managing editor and the senior editor, no longer appeared on the paper’s masthead.  Both were women.  In an effort to find out what was going on, Calleri emailed the new d00d several times and eventually ended up on a phone call with him.  He describes it thusly:

It was one of the strangest phone calls I’ve ever had. Over the course of a truly bizarre hour, I listened to the new owner as he philosophized about the Bible, the sadomasochism of the Greeks, the decline of the Romans, the secrets of the United States of America’s Founding Fathers, threats to the Western world, the role women played in the history of the planet, and the role they should play in the future of a cohesive society.

Calleri once again emailed his new boss for specific guidance as to why some of his reviews were being published but not others.  This is the reply he received:

Michael;[sic] I know you are committed to writing your reviews, and put a lot of effort into them. it [sic] is important for you to have the right publisher. i [sic] may not be it. i [sic] have a deep moral objection to publishing reviews of films that offend me. snow [sic] white [sic] and the huntsman [sic] is such a film. when [sic] my boys were young i [sic] would never have allowed them to go to such a film for i [sic] believe it would injure their developing manhood. if [sic] [sic] would not let my own sons see it, why would i [sic] want to publish anything about it?

snow [sic] white [sic] and the huntsman [sic] is trash. moral [sic] garbage. a [sic] lot of fuzzy feminist thinking and pandering to creepy hollywood mores produced by metrosexual imbeciles.
I don’t want to publish reviews of films where women are alpha and men are beta.

where [sic] women are heroes and villains and men are just lesser versions or shadows of females.
[sic] believe in manliness.
not [sic] even on the web would i [sic] want to attach my name to snow [sic] white [sic] and the huntsman [sic] except to deconstruct its moral rot and its appeal to unmanly perfidious creeps.
i’m [sic] not sure what headhunter [sic] has to offer either but of what I read about it it sounds kind of creepy and morally repugnant.
with [sic] all the publications in the world who glorify what i [sic] find offensive, it should not be hard for you to publish your reviews with any number of these.
they [sic] seem to like critiques from an artistic standpoint without a word about the moral turpitude seeping into the consciousness of young people who go to watch such things as snow [sic] white [sic] and get indoctrinated to the hollywood [sic] agenda of glorifying degenerate power women and promoting as natural the weakling, hyena -like men, cum eunuchs.
the [sic] male as lesser in courage strength [sic] and power than the female.
it [sic] may be ok [sic] for some but it is not my kind of manliness.
If you care to write reviews where men act like good strong men and have a heroic inspiring influence on young people to build up their character (if there are such movies being made) i [sic] will be glad to publish these.
[sic] am not interested in supporting the reversing of traditional gender roles.
i [sic] don’t want to associate the Niagara Falls Reporter with the trash of Hollywood and their ilk.
it [sic] is my opinion that hollywood [sic] has robbed america [sic] of its manliness and made us a nation of eunuchs who lacking all manliness welcome in the coming police state.
now [sic][sic] realize that you have a relationship with the studios etc. and i [sic] would have been glad to have discussed this in person with you to help you segue into another relationship with a publication but inasmuch as we spent 50 minutes on the phone from paris [sic][sic] did not want to take up more of your time.
In short i [sic] don’t care to publish reviews of films that offend me.
if [sic] you care to condemn the filmmakers as the pandering weasels that they are…. true hyenas.

[sic] would be interested in that….

Frank

I want to highlight that this missive was written by an editor and publisher of a “weekly newspaper with a circulation of 22,000, which is available in Niagara Falls and Buffalo in Western New York state, a metro area of 1.2-million people.”  (As I hinted earlier, one might quite reasonably suspect that this person has never even seen a newspaper, much less read one.)  And it probably goes without saying, but of course this d00d has seen neither Snow White and the Huntsman nor Headhunters.

Volumes could be written on the toxic, anxious masculinity that this afflicted individual manifests.  (It’s also a pretty safe bet that he is as aggressively homophobic as he is misogynist.)  I wonder what it must be like living in an alternate universe where the Rambo and Die Hard movies were never made, and James Bond doesn’t exist.  In Frank’s strangely barren world, he remains unaware that virtually the entire Hollywood blockbuster genre is comprised of films where manly men are the heroes and villains, and women are just lesser versions or shadows of males.  Poor Frank has never even heard of films like Independence Day, Mission Impossible, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Spiderman, Desperado, The Rock, Batman, Speed, Predator, Lethal Weapon, the entire Clint Eastwood oeuvre, the Bourne franchise, and about umpteen zillion other movies wherein manly muscled men march around shooting up everything that moves and blowing up everything that doesn’t, beating up bad guys with their bare hands, and maybe occasionally rescuing inconceivably incompetent, uppity damsels from the most dastardly of (male) villains.  But never mind all that:  this poor d00d’s wee-wee goes frighteningly flaccid at the mere thought of… Snow fucking White?

From the perspective of the world-renowned, undisputed leader in the field of Conservative Personality Disorder research, there are potentially many illuminating takeaways from this story.  Of the twenty hypothesized CPD symptom clusters, Frank-the-editor-and-publisher displays at least ten of them in a single email:

-superficiality: self-aggrandizing displays of “holier-than-thou” behavior;

-willful ignorance: dogmatic;

-irrationality: hyper-religiousness pervading all social interactions;

-tribalism: obsession with strict in-group/out-group delineation, typically with respect to race, class, ethnicity, sex, religion, cultural practices, immigration status, gender, and/or sexual orientation; believes out-groups are inherently, profoundly, and fundamentally different from and inferior to in-group members, and denies or rejects obvious commonalities;

-misogyny: anti-feminist; proponent of strictly binary gender roles and stereotypes with power and authority vested only in males; patronizing and unjust treatment of women; patriarchal;

-self-righteousness:  judgmental; hypercritical, scornful and disdainful of out-group “others”;

-amorality:  markedly unconcerned with the welfare or suffering of others, especially out-groups;

-poor facility with native language:  unusual capitalization;

-limited dimensionality of thought:  anxious and unnerved by cognitive ambiguity, and highly motivated to eliminate it by reducing complex real-world phenomena to discrete dualities; binary thinking;

-stunted self-awareness: aggressively defensive of one’s own culture, subculture, family structure, or way of life as objectively superior to all others despite (a) limited exposure to meaningfully diverse alternatives, (b) plainly evident personal anger, poor relationships, bitterness, and persistent unhappiness that no reasonable person would wish to emulate, (c) refusal to acknowledge other practices and points of view as valid, positive, or potentially beneficial, and (d) nevertheless attempting to compel all others to emulate one’s “superior” culture, subculture, family structure or way of life through legislative action, ballot initiatives, and/or social opprobrium;

If we sneaked a peek some of Frank’s other emails I think we can be fairly certain we’d quickly spot the other ten.

But the one additional symptom cluster upon which I wish to focus today is hierarchical worldview.  This particular concept serves as a critical nexus between all of the other CPD manifestations Frank displays in his email:

-hierarchical worldview:  opposed to equality in principle; pronounced preference for institutions with rigidly maintained lines of status or authority; insistence on win-lose outcomes regardless of obviously superior benefits to alternative win-win scenarios; rigid belief that one person must be “in charge,” and rejects team-oriented approaches to decision making and power-sharing (e.g., proponent of unchecked Executive power, male place as unchallengeable head of household, etc.); rationalizes and justifies social Darwinism, typically along racial, ethnic and/or gendered lines; projection of one’s own “dog-eat-dog world” mentality onto all others; displays anxiousness over status or ranking of self in social or professional hierarchies, especially when ambiguous or unclear;

The impulse motivating the hierarchical worldview is an unabashedly authoritarian one.  (It should be noted here that authoritarianism is itself a distinct CPD symptom cluster, one that we world-renowned CPD experts use to identify and describe observable behavior, rather than mental cognition or motivation.)  In my exhaustive studies of conservatives in the wild, I have found that the hierarchical worldview reveals itself in conversations concerning a vast array of subjects, from the intimately personal to the broadly global.  For example, just the other night I dined at a local seafood joint with My Amazing Lover™ and a small number of acquaintances.  The group included a couple from Boston who had recently repatriated back to the States after several years on business in Geneva, Switzerland.  I noticed that they made a few declarative statements concerning immigration, ethnicity, and other topics that identified them as conservatives, and, not wanting to disgorge my delicious crab ravioli or otherwise deploy it as a projectile in their general direction, I focused my efforts on enjoying copious amounts of white wine.  But then Conserva-d00d said something quite revealing.  The subject of conversation at the table was French culture as it relates to business practices in that country, a subject about which I know very little — except that to the consternation of Western capitalists, socialism is thriving in the form of a kick-ass, cradle-to-grave safety net and 4-week paid vacations.  These 4-week paid vacations Conserva-d00d explicitly disdained, a sentiment shared by Conserva-chick who reinforced her husband’s scorn for excessive Riviera-lounging with a weary head shake and exasperated eyeroll.  He went on:

Conserva-d00d:  The problem doing business with the French is that they have their priorities completely upside down.  In America, the customer always comes first.  After that comes the business, which is supposed to exist to serve the needs of the customer.  The employee comes last in the scheme of things, and is there to support the business, which is how it should be.  But in France, the employee comes first, at the very top.  Then comes the business itself.  It’s as if the business exists just to support the employee!  The customer comes last, at the very bottom.  It’s incredible!  Completely upside down!

(I am of course paraphrasing here.  See “copious amounts of white wine,” above.)

Iris:  Well, that’s one way to look at it, but I don’t see it that way at all.  You’re putting customers, businesses and employees in a hierarchy, either the correct “American” one, or the “upside down” one as the French allegedly view it.  But either way, a hierarchy is only one way to conceptualize the relationships between them, and a particularly unhelpful one in my view.  As I see it, there is no hierarchy.  These three entities are interdependent.  None of them can exist and thrive without the viability and support of the other two.  (And if you wanted to broaden this analysis, you could add a fourth entity to the mix:  government.)  Now you can of course make the case that in France, the employee entity is not adequately supporting the business.  And I can make the case that we have a different problem here, that the business entity is not adequately supporting the employee.  But my point is that these entities all function best when their relationships are in balance:  a win-win-win.  Happy customers->profitable business->happy employees->happy customers->profitable business->happy employees and so on, in a self-reinforcing loop.  Problems arise and send the whole system into a downward spiral — a lose-lose-lose — when any one of them operates as if the system were indeed a hierarchy.  It’s not.

Conserva-d00d: [*blinks*]

[Someone else at the table places a piece of cake in front of Iris.]

Iris:  Oh sure. Let’s all play “kill the diabetic socialist.”

Conserva-d00d: Hahaha!  Oh, you’re no socialist, believe me!  Far from it.

Iris:  Hahaha.

[Laughter all around as My Amazing Lover™ deftly steers the conversation to a lighter topic.  I think it was pictures of people having sex with cats or something.]

For a long time, the connection between social and economic conservatism escaped me.  It was not obvious to me:  what did all those godbot panty-sniffers really have in common with Ayn Rand, say, or Alan Greenspan?  The answer is a hierarchical worldview.

Our friend Frank-the-editor-and-publisher cannot conceive of an egalitarian relationship between men and women.  For Frank, it’s either “degenerate power women” and unnatural “weakling, hyena-like men-cum-eunuchs,” or “heroic,” “good strong men” and women who are “lesser in courage[,] strength and power.”  Someone must be assigned the “alpha” role, the dominant, the Top Dog in charge; therefore someone else must be assigned the “beta” role, the obedient follower, the weakling in need of leadership and protection.  Guess which one Frank just knows is his natural, rightful, divinely-ordained position?  (Hint:  it’s definitely not the unmanly one!)

Frank is a run-of-the-mill gender essentialist.  As such, he is constitutionally incapable of recognizing that as human beings, men and women have vastly more commonalities than differences, and further that individual men and women can manifest qualities like courage, strength, power and leadership in similar ways.  Over here in reality, it’s just an easily observable fact that all men are not braver, stronger, or more powerful than all women, not even potentially so.  My piece on gender essentialism and overlapping bell curves would sail right over Frank’s (very, very manly!) head, but two essential points I made therein are (1) to the extent that gender differences exist they fall on widely overlapping bell curves, and (2) such differences are largely if not entirely inconsequential with respect to nearly any endeavor in the real world.

But the fact remains that the mere thought of a strong, courageous and powerful woman — even a fictional one flitting around a magical woods in a dress with a bunch of big badass men chasing her — sends Frank into paroxysms of deranged misogyny.  Of course men who view the world the way that Frank does undermine the power and leadership of actual women in the modern workplace, but that’s another post.  Yet another post could explore poor Frank’s inability to be secure in his own humanity without the constant and ubiquitous reinforcement of media messages portraying women as weak, fearful and helpless, so that he — a MAN! — can fantasize that he is righteously strong, brave and powerful.  A third post could document that the only people I’ve known who are as obsessed as Frank is with “manliness” are my gay friends.  (Actually, that one’s really more of a tweet than a blog post.)  But I digress.

So:  Frank is deeply offended.  By reality.  He finds it morally repugnant that the real world does not comport with his hierarchical fantasy adventure story in which Frank stars as the brave, strong, powerful — and above all manly — hero.

Meanwhile, economic conservatives like my recent dinner companion project a hierarchical worldview onto business models, labor and markets.  First, let’s be clear:  when we refer to the interests of a for-profit business entity, we do not mean the interests of the abstract legal construct, or the physical and financial assets of the corporation.  We are talking about the financial interests of a distinct and relatively small group of people:  owners, investors, shareholders, principals, upper management and other stakeholders.  To the extent that such people view their own financial interests as “above” those of employees and/or customers — and almost without exception in the 21st century United States they certainly do — sooner or later the business will flounder and fail, and when it does, its employees and customers will flounder and fail along with it.

When a business does not value and actively invest in the well-being of its employees, its best people will ultimately abandon it and those who stay will be subpar and unmotivated — if not downright adversarial.  Its customers do not remain happy for long in such a scenario.  Ask the people who lost their homes and retirement savings in the wake of the financial crisis.  Or those whose mortgages are underwater in a depressed housing market.  Ask those whose jobs were outsourced or eliminated while companies were squeezed and then liquidated to enrich vulture capitalists.  Witness the relentless union-busting, the disempowerment of workers, endemic wage stagnation and the erosion of labor rights.

It is not a coincidence that those who insist on imposing hierarchies where synergistic relationships ought to be recognized are invariably those who place themselves at the top of them.  The warped “business first” paradigm is why we find ourselves in a country in which corporations are “people” — not coincidentally, the very same “people” that own our politicians and control our government.  They see themselves as the rightful, deserving beneficiaries of such a system — and they may very well be, at least in the short term.

But the stubborn fact remains that our species is a remarkably interdependent one.  No matter how complex and diversified our civilizations become, to one degree or another we rise and fall as one.  When the institutions we create, from “traditional marriage” to rapacious corporations, fail to operate in accordance with this basic truth, misery for many is never very far behind.
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Related posts from the Palace’s free online university:

And hey, it’s not like I haven’t been doing ANYTHING around here.

Further to my previous post, it’s not like I’ve been lolling around in silk lingerie eating bon-bons all day instead of blogging, you know.  I have in fact been making major improvements and renovations in the Library, including the addition of a spectacular new wing to house the Palace enemies list.*

ENEMIES:

  • 700 Club.  The television ministry of one Rev. Pat Robertson. Here he is suggesting a man beat his “rebellious” “child-like” wife.
  • Catholic League.  A one-man “league” comprised of serial self-promoter and ultra-rightwing Catholic dipshit Bill Donohue (a.k.a. ultra-rightwing Catholic dipshit Antonin Scalia).
  • Concerned Women for America.  Christian Patriarchy Enforcement Brigades, Women’s Auxiliary Unit.
  • Ann CoulterQuoth she: “I’m a Christian first, and a mean-spirited, bigoted conservative second, and don’t you ever forget it.”
  • Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood.  Biblical Patriarchy 101:  lots of submission for women (no, not the fun kind), strict gender binaries, anti-feminist, anti-gay, etc. Affiliated with The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.
  • Democratic Leadership Council (DLC).  The original blueprint for all the corrupt, corporatist conservative Democrats who now control the party:  supportive of Social Security privatization, NAFTA, the Iraq War, charter schools, “welfare reform,” and Bush’s No Every Child Left Behind Act while rigorously opposing single-payer universal health care and denouncing anti-war activism as “anti-American fringe” and “the loony left.”  They put in charge this smirking sociopath who promptly ran it into the ground, eclipsed by the right-wing Dem think tank Third Way — which espouses exactly the same rotten conservative policies and “principles.”
  • Eagle Forum.  Monument to Phyllis Schlafly’s spectacular career as an anti-feminist, made possible by…feminism.
  • Family Research Council. Patriarchy Central: anti-gay, anti-feminist, anti-abortion, anti-immigrant, anti-liberal, anti-sex, anti-secular, anti-equality, anti-awesome.
  • Focus on the Family. James Dobson’s personal cult; the “focus” is on authoritarian marriage and parenting, with a heaping helping of Jeezuz.
  • Fox News.
  • Rush Limbaugh.  Bloviating chickenhawk narcissist pig with a radio audience of millions.
  • Mission: America.  Headquarters for right-wing Christian Janet Harvey’s “war against homosexuality.”
  • Republican National Committee.  “Hub of all information related to the Republican Party.”
  • Third Way.  A Democratic “think tank” dedicated to economic conservatism, the ideology currently dominating the power center of the party.

It’s still a work-in-progress:  although the Democratic Party is of course represented, I have yet to add the DSCC, DCCC, DNC and other nefarious villains and evildoers pretending to be liberals.

And we’ve now completed the new Critical Thinking, Rationality & Skepticism rotunda (designed by renowned architect Richard Meier, and furnished with antiques from our local thrift shop):

CRITICAL THINKING, RATIONALITY & SKEPTICISM

And that’s to say nothing of recent additions to the Palace’s extensive quote collection:

The Democratic Party is not only a necropolis where activists decay into bureaucrats; it’s also a toxic growth poisoning the soil where activism grows — the crabgrass or milfoil that crowds out all the other species and devours all the nutrients. It is not merely an alternative to activism; it is the enemy of activism, and thus the enemy of any politics worthy of the name — by which I mean politics that goes beyond an empty, meaningless rivalry between two white-collar street gangs for the spoils of office. -Michael J. Smith

Few people become assholes reluctantly. -Geoffrey Nunberg

I’m sure we can count on the billionaires to be generous and give more than enough money to hospitals for the poor to adequately care for them. And gruel. I’m sure there would be gruel. -digby

In social justice, not all tactics that are divisive are effective, but all tactics that are effective are divisive. That doesn’t mean we should set our phasers to “divide,” but when a tactic is labeled as “divisive” or “radical”, there is a chance it might be one worth considering. Effective tactics are divisive because the majority is most comfortable with activism that is ineffective. [Emphasis in original.] -Garland Grey

Intelligent design is a philosophy of ignorance. You cannot build a program of discovery on the assumption that nobody is smart enough to figure out the answer to a problem. -Neil deGrasse Tyson

I would never underestimate a combination of wealthy plutocrats, churches, right wingers with an ax to grind and a willingness among all of them to cheat their way to victory. That’s an American success story in the making.-digby

KILL THE “($;&(:#* LIBERAL HECKLERS! -Ann Coulter

No, entitled violent douchebaggery is not a mental illness. People WITH mental illness generally are better behaved and don’t deserve being blamed and diminished by conflation with assholes. -Pteryxx

[T]he only thing that will make the Democrats change is the prospect of annihilation if they don’t. And the only way to raise that specter before their eyes is for their captive constituencies to desert them in droves. As long as they think you have nowhere else to go, they will take you for granted. And the only way to convince them you have somewhere else to go is… to go there. -Michael J. Smith

People are always studying successful political movements in America hoping to learn how to make it happen for their own cause. For my money, there is nobody who has done it better than the NRA. They’ve made mass murder as common as the weather and they’re so powerful they’ve completely dismantled any opposition. Who else can claim such success? -digby

You may not be able to change the world, but at least you can embarrass the guilty. -Jessica Mitford

Okay, so maybe there were a few bon-bons.  Here and there.

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* We are aware that an “enemies list” has some unfortunate historical overtones.  On the other hand, “Compilation of people and organizations who have inexplicably declared war upon our persons, the foundational principles of our democracy and everything we value” doesn’t quite deliver the same punch.

Palace service interruption.

Over the past week or so, I’ve been doggedly working on a few half-assed rants that at this moment remain unfinished.  It’s not “writers block” exactly.  It’s more like I find myself wrestling with an issue — which is not at all unusual — but somehow in my efforts to write something approximating a clear and accurate picture (with good fact citations) inorder to infotain my Many Tens of Loyal Readers™, I would instead find myself lost, off in the mists and deep in the woods somewhere, and frustrated with the (my?) lack of clarity and inability to see how all of the pieces fit together.  Normally the more I read about and research an issue the clearer the picture becomes to me, even though paradoxically it also becomes much more nuanced and complex at the same time.  You know: more like actual reality.  (We’re not Fox News, here, people: idiots need not apply.  Well, except for positions in the Palace Kitchen, where idiocy is a job requirement.)

But lately this just isn’t the case; I get bogged down and frustrated.  (Sure, I’ve had some stressful shit going on recently.  Maybe that’s it.)  Anyway, I’ve saved these crappy draft posts and will look at them with fresh eyes this week, hoping that where I went awry will instantly jump out at me, and my obliging neurons will immediately serve up an easy and obvious fix.  Or, alternatively, I’ll realize what a hopeless mess they truly are and banish them to oblivion, for the good of all concerned.  Fortunately, while I have been wandering around in the weeds and muck the denizens of the internet have graciously provided some clarity of their own as to exactly, precisely what it is they desire when they click on a link to the Palace.  Here are the top searches this past week that led ‘netizens to our fabulous gates:

  • cake man raven red velvet cake recipe
  • muscle girl rape
  • flag of ecuador to color
  • prayers to god

Now as loyal readers well know, we truly aspire to be a full-service Palace.  That is, we endeavor to provide our guests with anything and everything their hearts desire — provided, of course, that it coincides exactly 100% with whatever it is we feel like doing.  But just as one cannot be all things to all people, one’s Palace cannot be, either.  We must draw some lines, determine some priorities, maintain some standards, and enforce some goddamn boundaries—all at our capricious whim.  To give you some idea of the shape such whims tend to take, witness our sincere efforts to meet the needs of our new Palace readers:

closeup slice

yum.

cake man raven red velvet cake recipe:  A perennial favorite search term that leads directly to Iris the Idiot’s Kitchen and an insufferably long-winded, bloviating post explaining in excruciating detail and with plenty of pictures how to make the best goddamn red velvet cake known to humankind thus far.  (Srsly.)

__________

muscle girl rape:   FUCK.  OFF.  NOW.

__________

flag of ecuador to color:  Here you go.  I just ran a picture of the bright and beautiful flag of Ecuador through a few filters, and hope that the result will suffice for all of your flag-of-ecuador coloring needs.  (It lost some of the fine detail in the process, but as you apparently prefer to work in the crayon medium, this is probably a good thing.)

__________

prayers to god:  Hmmm.  Okay, this is a tough one—it’s been a while.  Let’s see:

Dear Jeezus:  If you wanted us to worship you, how come you won’t even bother to do us the favor of existing?  Anxiously awaiting your response.  Thanks in advance.  Oh!  I almost forgot:  Amen.  Also:  Hallelujah!  And…um…peace be upon you.  P.S., Hey Jeezuz?  Why are so many followers of you and your dad such epic, ginourmous doucheweasels?  Also, what’s up with all the gay-hatin’?  I mean, you had two dads, and yet you supposedly turned out all right.
: |

Dear Vishnu:  Congratulations!  You are totally kicking Christ’s ass!  As it is a tenet of my faith that it is generally prudent to, you know, “go with a winner,” I am hereby praying to inform you that I am now your devoted follower… at least until some other god comes along and kicks your ass, obviously.  (I’d keep an eye on that Thor if I were you.  He is a badass.)

Dear Aphrodite:  I do apologize to your Goddessishness, but right now all I can think of are the lyrics to the Frank Sinatra song Fly Me to the Moon:

Fly me to the moon
and let me play among the stars
Let me see what spring is like
on Jupiter and Mars
In other words, hold my hand
In other words, baby kiss me

Fill my heart with song
and let me sing for ever more
You are all I long for
all I worship and adore
In other words, please be true
In other words, I love you

Welcome, new readers!  (Except for you muscle girl rape fans. You’re all probably a bunch of conservatives anyway. Go away and stay away. )

Happy blogaversary to me.

It’s been two years to the day since I started this blogging venture and staked out my own little corner of the Internet.  Loyal readers will recall my first breathtakingly courageous post, a template for the hard-hitting, original and insightful commentary that the Palace flag has come to represent:

To celebrate this monumental milestone in Internet journalism, I will be dining this evening with long-time loyal reader, provocative commenter, fellow Occupier, and pretty-much-game-for-anything friend, Mr. Born.

All together now:

Happy blogaversary to me!
Happy blogaversary toooo meeee!
Happy blogaverrrrssssarrrry deeeeeear Irrrrrrisssssss!
Happy blogaversary tooooooooo meeeeeeeeeeee.

My sincerest heartfelt thanks to my Many Tens of Loyal Readers™ for your support.  It means the world to me.

WORLD EXCLUSIVE: Yankees v. Orioles. Yeah.

UPDATED below
Okay, so I never go to sporting events. I don’t watch sports on TV (unless I’m at a bar with gay friends…who aren’t paying the least bit of attention to the score BTW). I don’t follow anything about sports, in the news or online. I am only vaguely aware of the Olympics.

And yet here I find myself at Yankee Stadium, on a spectacular evening, with three really good friends, seated near something called “first base.”

And here I always thought that was just a sexual term. Huh.

Anyway, I am having a ball. Also: Derek Jeter is hawt.

Hey! Technically, I am live blogging this game! Like a real pro blogger and stuff! Except I don’t know the score.

Did I mention Derek Jeter is hawt?

UPDATE: I just learned that Derek Jeter makes SIXTEEN MILLION DOLLARS A YEAR.

He is not THAT hawt. NO ONE is that hawt. (Except for my Amazing Lover(TM) Obviously.)

Pre-coffee musing.

Even though I know better, I sometimes blog when I’m less than fully awake.*  When thoughts and words are not coming clearly, posting has the all too real potential to lead to later regret:  incoherent nonsense is a distinct possibility.  I had a rough night.  I’m still half-dreaming.  But as I’m waiting for my coffee to brew, I nevertheless feel compelled to throw the proverbial caution to the embarrassingly clichéd wind and write about this:

Hungary arrests 97-year-old alleged Nazi war criminal

BUDAPEST – 97-year-old Hungarian man suspected of abusing Jews and helping deport thousands of them during the Holocaust was taken into custody Wednesday, questioned and charged with war crimes, prosecutors said.

The case of Laszlo Csatary was brought to the attention of Hungarian authorities last year by the Simon Wiesenthal Center, a Jewish organization active in hunting down Nazis who have yet to be brought to justice.

In April, Csatary topped the organization’s list of most-wanted Nazi war criminals.

Prosecutors decided to charge Csatary with the “unlawful torture of human beings,” a war crime that carries a maximum sentence of life in prison.

My my my.  A war crime!  The unlawful torture of human beings.  Such vile, unforgivable acts against humanity that enormous resources spent over many decades in the relentless pursuit of the accused are unquestionably justified—even if the best possible end result is the small, cold comfort of imprisoning a 97-year old man for “life.”

Apropos of absolutely nothing, here’s an interesting story from April 18, 2008:

ABC News reported on Apr. 9 that then-National Security Adviser Condoleezza Rice chaired an informal panel of top administration officials that approved specific brutal interrogation tactics for use on three suspected Al Qaeda detainees. The panel consisted of Vice President Dick Cheney, and former administration officials — Donald H. Rumsfeld, then defense secretary, Colin L. Powell, the former secretary of state, George Tenet, the former director of the Central Intelligence Agency, and John Ashcroft, then attorney general. This group debated for use on detainees — and eventually approved — methods of abuse like being “slapped, pushed, deprived of sleep or subjected to simulated drowning, called waterboarding,” ABC reported.

On Apr. 11, Bush told ABC that he was personally aware of the panel’s discussions. “Well, we started to connect the dots in order to protect the American people.” Bush said. “And yes, I’m aware our national security team met on this issue. And I approved.”

I am sure the fine folks at the Simon Wiesenthal Center would agree:  torturing Jewish prisoners is no different than torturing “suspected” Al Qaeda prisoners.  I just hope the architects of the American torture regime don’t successfully elude justice to the ripe old age of 97!  (I’m pretty sure Dick Cheney is already, like, what? 450 years old? at any rate he is obviously immortal and cannot die, so locking him up for “life” at any point in time would at least amount to a meaningful sentence.)  To do my small part to hopefully aid in their capture, I offer these photographs of the suspects, taken covertly at their last known location of Washington, DC.

IMPORTANT:  IF YOU SEE THESE PEOPLE, DO NOT APPREHEND THEM.  THEY ARE CONSIDERED DANGEROUS, KNOWN SADISTS AND SOCIOPATHIC MASS MURDERERS, RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEATHS OF MANY THOUSANDS OF INNOCENT PEOPLE—AND ARE EXTREMELY ADEPT AT ELUDING CAPTURE.  REPORT THEM TO LAW ENFORCEMENT (and/or THE SIMON WIESENTHAL CENTER) IMMEDIATELY. 

Oh!  Gotta run. My coffee’s ready.

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* When I was a n00b I used to have a rule: “Don’t drink and blog.”  But I found that it interfered way too much with my drinking so I shitcanned it.