And I Actually Voted For That Slime

Yeah. Turned 18 just in time. What an idiot I was: I think my brain was in my (tiny) Birkenstocks.

Jimmy Carter is a waste of the oxygen he breathes.

Goldstein comments:

Carter’s just a fringe element of the Democratic party anyway, and besides—who listens to ex-Presidents? 

And do you honestly believe terrorists don’t have more important things to do than pay attention to the partisan sniping of grandstanding western politicos?  There are nail bombs to make, and buses and subway cars to blow up.

As to whether or not Carter’s comments provide rhetorical cover for the terrorists—of course not!  Carter is simply voicing his dissent, and if a former US president can’t openly criticize his government—publicly, overseas, during wartime, and on the basis of a narrative of events that an investigative panel has already concluded simply does not represent the facts on the ground—well, then the terrorists have already won. After all, aiding the enemy in their propaganda war IS the highest form of patriotism, and nothing says “I love my country� more than “I love my country provided it's run by people like me."

Be sure to read his entire entry. He's got links, too, but I'm too disgusted to follow them right now. Maybe later.

I Always Assume

That when my media-industry acquaintances ask me if I'm getting paid to blog, they're just being a bit snide because they caught a glimpse of the pro-Schwarzenegger bumper sticker on my car. After all, when someone mentions working on a novel or a screenplay, no one asks if he/she is getting paid: it's understood that such projects are labors of love and hope.

But perhaps there's something deeper about the question of payment for journalism. Something at the very heart of the MSM-blogosphere conflict. Perhaps there is fear in the issue as well.

Liberty Film Festival 05, Oct. 21-23

Just as with last year's event, we'll be getting tickets to the whole 2 1/2 days of the Liberty Film Festival, which means at some point I'll end up taking a nap in my husband's car like I did last year. (The showings start early for me, and we have to commute to West Hollywood.)

Naturally, I'll be blogging the event, though not live-blogging (The Pacific Design Center doesn't have WiFi; it's rather shocking, really). So there will be recaps at the end of each day about its particular highlights.

Last year's event turned into a who's-who of center-right Hollywood (all four of 'em . . .). The presentations are terrific, though it's hard to get snacks, so I actually packed a lunch for us most of the days we were there, supplemented by bottles of water and protein bars in our pockets. There was a vending machine downstairs, and as I recall it sold candy bars, which kept body and soul together.

If that little sandwich shop downstairs could be persuaded to open for lunch, it would make a bunch of libertarians/war supporters pretty happy. But I shan't hold my breath, and a lot of people are simply going to walk up to the overpriced and overcrowded shops along Melrose. Attila the Hub and I may go to Norm's for lunch at least once, because we're so earthy.

It's a terrific event, and though there aren't many like my husband and me (die-hards who have to be there the whole time), it's always an exciting celebration of new films and the history of filmmaking. I'd even encourage my liberal brethren to check it out: this year will feature a debate on the blacklist era, which I'm looking forward to a great deal.

Valerie Plame

. . . tells her side of the story. I missed this when it first ran, but it is priceless.

Yemeni Child in Jail—And in Need of Medical Treatment

Just when you think you've heard it all about the Yemeni government, you discover a new low they've sunk to. When Amnesty International and the rightosphere agree on a cause, you know it's a serious matter.

Read about it at Jane's place, and sign the Amnesty International petition (scroll down; there's an English version on there, so you'll know what you're signing).

Please. Let's do this.

New Advertiser

These people have the funnest stuff, including some wonderful T-Shirts. Go buy one here! (Clicking on my ad will take you right to the fabulous T-shirt page; I've linked to their home page, because it's fun too.)

Also, their ad is just up for a week. If they get lots of orders from me, they might be persuaded to leave it up all month!

Is Islamic Reformation Possible?

One woman asks the Islamic world to please figure it out. Soon.

Via Percifield, who's back at work on Real Projects, and therefore taking it easy on the blogging. But be sure to read through the "greatest hits" on his sidebar.

Et Tu,

Santa Monice?

A Few of my Friends

. . . are starting to look a little bit middle-aged. Should I say anything, do you think? Or would that be rude?

Lair Is Just

. . . so murky and enigmatic. I have trouble figuring out just where, exactly, he stands on a lot of issues. Like the Palestinians.

An End to "The Troubles"?

I'm not holding my breath. Not if Ian Paisley is still involved.

But there's a little bit of hope about the situation in Northern Ireland.

Pray for peace there. It's possible.

Chez Che

History's cutest murderer talks from the grave:

I also thank the useful idiots who opened the Dallas disco, Club Che. Promise me you will never serve a rum and Coke and call it a “Cuba Libre.� When you get a free moment, let’s talk. I think we need to open more clubs for hip young kids who got Ds in history. Club Hitler! Club Stalin! Club Mugabe! Club bin Laden! Okay, scratch that last one. We’ll never make money unless we can serve alcohol.

It's the beret, Baby.

Goldstein Throws Facts at Howard Dean

And good luck to him, too:

It was, in fact, the Court’s more liberal members, Justices John Paul Stevens, David Souter, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Stephen Breyer—coupled with “conservative� Justice Anthony Kennedy—who evidently believe its okay to take and auction off some hardworking steel worker’s blue collar homestead to make way for a big corporate industrial park, the kickback being an increase in tax revenues the local nannystate municipality can put to use funding programs meant to provide that newly homeless steel worker with the “educational skills� he needs to one day own a home of his very own.

At least one liberal friend referred to this as "the Scalia court," demoting Rehnquist, but implying that it must have been those mean Constructionists who wiped out private property with this decision.

Nope. But thanks for your passing concern for individual liberties. Perhaps you'd like to join us the next time the Left starts shooting them down? There are a few words in the Bill of Rights, after all, that haven't yet got crossed out. We could start there.

New London, Again.

I will be blogging about the eminent domain situation in that part of the world, interviewing someone in an adjacent Connecticut town who can bring me up-to-date on the history of land-grabs in the area and what the future might hold.

Naturally, I'll be doing a little research before I leave town, but aside from the legal blogs and the Castle Coalition, I'd be interested in what you might know about similar cases—in CT or elsewhere.

People who like the Bill of Rights are the new "peasants with pitchforks."

So, Just a Short Post Tonight

. . . even though my readership is dropping like a . . . like a gravity-bound thing that's plummeting to the earth.

I went over to Little Mr. Mahatma's this afternoon. Scanmaster joined us, and we had dinner with Mrs. Mahatma and the Mahatma kids ("the monsters," Mr. M calls them). Then the others swam while I lay by the side of the pool and soaked up the heat the concrete had absorbed during the day, as the monsters splashed me and their mother chided them for so doing. We were in the San Fernando Valley, so it didn't get chilly as it would have on the Westside after dark. Not even after my clothes were all wet from the stray water that had landed in my "dry zone."

"I have a sore throat," I kept announcing, to explain why I had to leave soon. But I didn't leave until 9:30 p.m.

I came home slightly on the defensive, ready to point out to my spouse that I was in my client's office into the afternoon today, working sick, and that it wasn't as if my friends and I were loafing around this evening—heaven forfend. No; we had figured out how a particular game of telephone—a piece of gossip rather juicy in its day—had travelled from person to person one summer when we were 16 and 17. We were solving problems, like the brilliant people we are.

I returned full of this accomplishment, and my husband was so sweet that I immediately felt guilty and defensive. So tomorrow—along with catching up on my finances, some phone calls and the housework—I need to finish the plot synopsis for my fiction project, along with the book proposal that will accompany it out into the cold, cruel world. (I'll dress it first in a little sunsuit from Gap Kids, and put Water Babies sunblock on the pages. I try to be a good mom.)

If only Attila the Hub had criticized me for taking several hours off while he was slaving away in his office, pedal to the metal. But no: he had to be sweet and loving. So instead of being able to have a quick row in which I would cleverly deflect the subject to the issue of his deficiencies (real/imagined), I'm now left with one viable option: I need to catch up on all my outstanding projects tomorrow, sometime between my acupuncture treatment (9:00 a.m.) and T'ai Chi class (6:30 p.m.). All because I've been outflanked, denied the moral high ground by the master military strategist I live with.

I'm behind in the arms race of household accomplishment. But that's easy to fix: factory production will soon spike, and . . . I'll bury him. In kisses, support for his endeavors, completion on my own appointed tasks, fun snuggling, and cheap-yet-tasty dinners on Sunday nights.

Attila Girl is re-arming.

(You people have figured out the reality, right?—when I feel like this, it's never because my husband is mad at me for my indolence. He's usually just tired and preoccupied with his own work. I just like to externalize my guilt, projecting it onto him. The next day I remember that if I feel like he's mad at me, it's generally because I'm mad at myself. He has nothing to do with it at all.)

I'm such a head case.

Jeff Defends

Our modern-day "Agent 99." At least, he tries to.

UPDATE: Post now new and improved! Featuring a link that (1) works and (2) isn't part of my menu planning for next week.

Cute Blog!

A six-year-old girl has started a blog; go check it out. It's actually worth looking at the main page for a couple of minutes, because her "virtual" pet bunny moves around a lot, and it's fun to watch.

(Mama, go ahead and let the girl get a Site Meter. Or put an invisible one on there for you to check only; I'm so curious. I think she's going to be very popular.)

If you would like to comment on this site, please send me a note and I'll forward it to her mother. Obviously, if I know you you're more likely to get approved. (For obvious reasons, we don't want this little one subjected to the rough-and-tumble of the standard blogging debates.)

Soldiers' Angels

. . . Are campaigning to get more laptop computers into the hands of soldiers, especially those who have been wounded and need a way to stay in touch with their buddies.

The lease is up on a lot of the computers the troops are using, and these can be purchased for them at $249 each.

And they take checks! Those of you who have PayPal-phobia will appreciate that.

Beth has details.

(You'll be hearing more about this from members of the Cotillion, as we think of more and better ways to get money out of your wallets and into a few creature comforts for those fighting to keep us safe. So deal with that.)

Why Roberts Can't Be Borked

Nice article in the Boston Globe about how to appoint conservatives who don't "trip the extremist trip-wire," and why Roberts will survive the confirmation process.

It would seem that for super-ambitious judges, the rule is, "don't publish [much]—or perish."

Flying to Connecticut

I have a bet with my dad that I can go to the East Coast for my half-sister's wedding for under $600. An experienced traveller, Dad insists it's going to set me back at least $700, no matter how I pinch pennies.

So the gauntlet has been thrown. My airfare will be $320, and I'm flying into Hartford the day before the wedding.

I have a backup car rental, but I'm hoping to get that amount down considerably, and I need cheap housing in the vicinity of Woodbridg—a Motel 6 or something like that.

My main savings will be food: I may go ahead and check my suitcase, because it will be chock-full of peanut butter and jelly, crackers, instant couscous, and Nutri-Grain bars. I'll get a little produce at a local market, but I'm getting my protein as cheaply as I can.

Ideas?

For the purposes of this exercise, the wedding gift is a separate item (besides which, we have a year in which to get it).

Nice Summary

of Nadagate (the Plame affair) by John Hinderaker here, couched in terms of the New York Times hypocrisy in outing real CIA covert operators, while pretending outrage that well-known Langley desk jockeys are discussed by media types with White House officials.

Lime Marinade for Chicken

I hadn't realized that lime would make such a dramatic difference in grilled chicken (vs. lemon), but the grilled breasts at the BFL Conference were to die for.

And the big bags of little key limes they sell at Ralph's contain far too many to use in gin & tonics (and ginless tonics) before a few dry out and look/taste icky.

So this Sunday I'd like to do a little grilling if time permits; please share your favorite marinade recipes that contain some fresh lime juice. Yum.

UPDATE: You people aren't too helpful, are you? You forced me to actually DO SOME WORK MYSELF. It was grim; but here you go.

Please report here your favorite adventures involving chicken, lime, and your grill.

He's Baaaaaack!

Jeff of Beautiful Atrocities has come up for air. He'd like us to raid our lingerie drawers in defense of the Western World.

I hope those Islamofascists wear size small (not petite) string bikinis in black.

New London

I'm going to be in Connecticut in two weeks for my sister's wedding. I'll probably be making a day trip to New London on either Sunday 8/7 or Monday 8/8. (I'll be hanging out in the Syrian immigrant community. Cool, huh? Now you know why I threaten to ventilate anyone who puts down Arabs: I have a whole set of them in the family.)

I'd like to interview some of the local residents, but I don't want to intrude upon the homeowners directly involved in the eminent domain abuse case—unless someone there isn't completely sick of giving interviews.

If any of you have any connections in the area, I'd appreciate hearing about 'em.

Thanks!

So, Here's the Deal.

You don't fuck with Condi Rice. Period.

UPDATE: A British reporter's perspective.

The Mom Weighs in on the Roberts Nomination

"Why didn't you answer the phone?" she asked me Tuesday night.

"I was downstairs watching Fox news, trying to get a little info about Roberts. Not too much there; I'll have to hit the blogs."

"What do you think so far?"

"Well, I wanted another Clarence Thomas, but Roberts sounds smart. And I think he gets that the Court is not supposed to legislate. How about you?"

"I wanted a woman."

I pause as I wonder at the simplicity of my mother's criterion. There is, I decide, no criticizing her team spirit. Finally, I answer, "I'm not sure we have to keep the number of boobies on the Court steady at four."

"Oh, I was thinking we should have more like eight or ten boobies," she responds, showing off her math-teacher arithmetic skills.

"That sounds fine, Mom, but keep in mind that every time someone is appointed to a spot just because she's female, she's always a spectacular failure. I wasn't really happy with either Janet Reno nor Madeleine Albright."

"What a surprise; after all, they were appointed by a Democrat."

"A Democrat I voted for in 1992."

"You voted for Clinton?" How soon we forget.

"Yeah, Mom. Once, though; I didn't make the same mistake again."

This whole conversation is rather illuminating; it turns out that some of the opposition to Roberts would vaporize if he only got gender-reassignment surgery.

Easy as pie.

Did You Know

. . . that John Roberts sexually harassed me once? He did it by drinking a can of Coke.

I was very tramautized after that; I couldn't work for a week afterward. I just lay in bed drinking Diet Dr. Pepper and reading Nancy Drew mysteries from my childhood.

But now I'm over it. I'll buy a bitchin' new dress, and then I'll alert the media.

UPDATE: Enough with the e-mails. I don't happen to know the truth of what happened between Anita Hill and Clarence Thomas. I do think men do some crazy things when they're young and horny, and I suspect that Thomas was attracted to Hill. But if she kept her own counsel and followed him from job to job, I do think continuing her silence would have been the classy thing.

In fact, she helped to raise public consciousness about the evils of sexual harassment. I wish I could count that as a victory, as such abuses of power have always bothered me. The truth is, our present situation is a mixed blessing, wherein men often feel that the slightest acknowledgement that they are heterosexual may subject them to disciplinary action or lawsuits at any time.

In other words, the pendulum has swung too far.

We'll never know what Thomas said to Hill, or how bad it really was. But I'm grateful to have him on the Court. I do believe he's the closest thing to a libertarian on SCOTUS.

The Roberts Rundown

Xrlq is making a chart of how Roberts' confirmation will change/not change the status quo.

Justice Roberts—

Isn't that a Beatles tune?

Re: Nadagate

Goldstein did what no one else had thought to do: he interviewed Karl Rove's breakfast burrito.

Though, truth be told, I didn't realized people ate breakfast burritos on the East Coast. I figured that was for us Western folks who can handle beans and salsa at breakfast without getting all gassy. (My favorite breakfast: huevos rancheros. It's just slightly superior to eggs Benedict. Both come in ahead of a quiche wedge, which itself beats out a couple of muffins [winter] or a SlimFast [summer]. Those naturally those last two are my most common midweek options. Omelets are yummy, too. Now I'm hungry.)

I've Been Outed.

A friend of mine—let's call him Carl— has confirmed rumors to the effect that I'm white.

I'm afraid my life is in danger.

I mean, a lot of people have previously suspected I'm white. Just about everyone who's either met me or seen a picture pretty much knew the truth. But it had never been said out loud before Carl called me a "light-brunette Anglo-Saxon chick."

Actually, he didn't say that. Someone else referred to me as Anglo-Saxon, and Carl confirmed that he'd also heard that rumor.

But it doesn't matter, because before that it hadn't been said before. Well, except by my neighbors. And the rest of the population of La Canada, California. They knew. And they gossiped about it a bit, I guess.

Right. And anyone who read the official government documents (such as my birth certificate) that acknowledge my whiteness.

The fact is, until Carl confirmed that he'd also heard this rumor, no one else really knew for sure if I was white. Well, except for my friends and family.

Or anyone who read that article on the front page of the Valley Sun that featured a photo of my husband and me as "fair-haired people who sunburn easily." But at the time I certainly didn't think that identified us as white.

I perceive this as a plot against my husband, hatched by people who disagree with his heroic condemnation of the UCLA Bruins' defenses. And somehow those who are behind this conspiracy of bad sportsmanship keep harping on the fact that Attila the Hub went to USC, and that this might make him more critical of the Bruins' plays vs. the Trojans'.

I sit here blogging, waiting for death to overcome me in my suburban home. Death at the hands of UCLA football fans who have been waiting for public information about my caucasion heritage.

What is the football world coming to? What has happened to my little community in the foothills near Pasadena?

What is to be done?

Via Lair

. . . comes this charming idea for supporting the IDF—buy them pizza.

As soon as my income stabilizes, I'm there.

Wow!

The Bear Flag League Conference was terrific. I'm exhausted, since I was "on duty" the whole time taking care of the speakers and guests. Therefore, someone else will blog the substance of the conference—probably while I'm still in the media room downstairs watching The American Revolution on VHS with Attila the Hub.

Personally, I plan to monitor Right on the Left Beach, as he's likely to have the best pictures of the event, and get them onto his site the fastest.

There are too many people to name, but it was wonderful to see the Bear Flag Leaguers again, and to attach a few more faces to bloggers' (and commenters') names.

Luminaries included Scott of Blog Cabin California, who moderated the event; Justene of Calblog, who founded the Bear Flag League and organized this event (and whose daughters have their own blog); Daniel Weintraub, who writes for the Sacramento Bee, and was a cause celebre in the 'sphere a while back when the decision was made by his employers to edit his blog (he is also one of the true gentlemen of the 'sphere); Bob Hertzberg of BigIdeas4LA.com, who nearly used the power of the 'sphere to become mayor of Los Angeles; Joseph C. Phillips of the Conservative Brotherhood—an actor and activist who also publishes recipes on his "non-blog"; Ted Costa of Fair Districts, which tackles the issue of gerrymandering head-on; and Allan Hoffenblum of California Target Book, a rich resource for anyone interested in Golden State politics.

Thanks, everyone. It was an amazing event.

UPDATE: Attila the Hub asked me as we milled around on the patio waiting for the buffet to be ready how many people at this gathering weren't lawyers.

"Oh, two or three," I replied.

UPDATE 2, 11:33 Monday night: I'd say Darleen Click's post is the most comprehensive summary of the issues discussed. Cobb has two posts on the subject. And he's got even more here.

Right on the Left Beach has two sets of pictures: one of our speakers and organizers, and one that concentrates on the attendees. See Xrlq posing with Kevin Drum! Baldilocks with Cobb! Attila Girl without quite enough makeup on (remember, I had to get there by noon; that's a bit on the early side for me).

Brian Hay blogged the event for Big Ideas 4 LA, and Flap has chick pix. Naturally, Patterico has a thing or two to say, and Baldilocks has her own photos.

UPDATE 3, 12:27 a.m. Tuesday: Miller's Time has pix and commentary.

UPDATE 4, 7:35 p.m. Tuesday: The Claremont Institute summarizes Weintraub's excellent column in the Sacramento Bee, and provides commentary. I so wanted to see Dan's column that I actually registered to read an online paper (something I had not done in a while; usually, I figure if they want my eyeballs on their pages, they won't put up obstacles thereto).

UPDATE 5, 8:17 a.m. Wednesday: There's a thorough rundown of the most important issues discussed over at Blog Cabin California.

Pamela

. . . has some great footage—and a cool story—over at Trey Jackson's place.

Yes, we treat terrorists who are wounded. That's what we do. I've got to go, though: I'm sending myself to bed without supper because a terrorist had women's panties put on his head once. I'm very upset about the whole thing.

The Latest on the BFL Conference

is over here.

This event is sold out, but there will be future conferences.

Steven and Glenn

. . . in the new Wedding Crashers trailer. They're wonderful!—who knew they could act like that.

(The movie itself? Strictly junk food. If I see it I'll wear a hat and dark glasses into the theatre.)

Via Insty himself.

Jane Has

. . . the master chronology on the situation in Yemen. If you've been wanting to figure out what's going on there, and how they are systematically destroying any kind of semi-free press, it's a good place to start.

Let the creeps in the Yemeni government know that "the audience is listening."

So . . .

anyone know what John Dean's smoking?

Anyone?

Bueller?

Is Anyone Else

. . . sick to death of the term "militant" as a euphemism for "terrorist"?

I was a militant feminist once, but I didn't set off bombs in . . . football stadiums or fundamentalist churches or . . . really, anywhere.

Why I Write

. . . and why we fight.

The Irish-Haters in Ireland

All over the rest of the world, Catholics and Protestants are able to make common cause on all kinds of issues. All over the civilized world, priorities have shifted and people are united against Islamo-fascism.

But not in Northern Ireland, where the attitude is one of preaching hate and passing it along to their children.

It's the "lite" version of Palestinian culture, with poisonous attitudes passed along from generation to generation.

We all deserve to be left alone. I come from a free society, and I think it should be legal for the Orangemen to march. But when they do it year after year through Catholic neighborhoods, yelling "F--- the Pope," burning Irish flags, and hoisting the Union Jack (which should not be associated with that kind of thuggery this week—or any week) they halt human progress and disgrace all that is good in English society.

The English were the first people to organize to abolish slavery. Despite the dark side of England's Imperial period, it's done a lot of good throughout human history. To remain in the shadows of its legacy and refuse to step into the light is dispicable in the age of terrorism.

These people are living in a sick and twisted past.

There Are Dark Moments

. . . when I consider the possibility that the West is every bit as decadent as Bin Laden maintains, and that his forces will kill most of us, enslaving the rest and taking most of the world back to the Middle Ages.

And then I think, "not everyone is a lefty moonbat; they're just louder than everyone else."

Steyn on Islam

When we get too politically correct, he suggests, we undercut support for the moderate Muslims who must begin to speak up about the evils of jihadism.

You must marginalize the Islamo-fascists. You must shun them.

It is the only way.

Hitch.

He's just so good; he manages to slap Galloway as if he were a sort of irritating mosquito buzzing through the woods in the summer.

And he explains what is at stake in the War on Terror: everything.

I'm Confused.

I thought Karl Rove was a modern-day Rasputin.

The Name-My-Business Contest!

So I've decided to expand my copyediting business, because I know several other top-notch L.A.-based copyeditors who are all as hungry as I am. If I can hustle together a few more editing/proofreading clients, we should have enough work to go around. I hate marketing myself, however—so I need a name for the business other than "Joy McCann: editing, writing." And of course it makes more sense to use a neutral name if I may need to subcontract some jobs to other copyeditors.

My existing logo is from a rubber stamp; it's a stylized circular picture of a koi fish (we're without a scanner at the moment, but I'll post it once I get it scanned).

So I was going to file my DBA as "Koi Pond Copyediting," but my business advisor vetoed it: too "passive." (I had thought it was serene, myself.)

I do like water imagery, though: perhaps a stream or creek would pass muster.

A friend of mine is marketing her business (very different from mine) using the imagery of an eye, which would make even more sense for my line of work—but, hey. It's her idea. So if you want to suggest something unrelated to koi fish, that's fine as well. My mood is Eastern/Chinese, but my business advisor wants more yang and less yin.

If I use the name you suggest, I'll send you a copy of Mark Steyn's book (or a suitable namby-pamby pacifist BS volume, if that's what you prefer).

Thanks. May the best reader win.

The Scotsman Lists

. . . five Scumbags of Interest with respect to the London bombings.

Draft Volokh!

The time has come.

Via Insty.

Ties Between AQ and Saddam

They were there, but with all the intelligence gaps we've been looking through a glass darkly. And now (almost), face to face.

Via Goldstein.

The Evidence Builds Up

. . . as I tick down the list of things I'm interested in: cars, trains, guns, military strategy. Motorcycles.

I'm clearly not a middle-aged woman, but rather a 16-year-old boy trapped in a middle-aged female body.

I'm not just a candidate for gender-reassignment surgery, but age-reassignment as well. Especially age-reassignment.

I believe I should demand that Medi-Cal provide me with a face lift and change my driver's license to reflect my true age of 16. Naturally, I'm not willing to pay teenage rates for car insurance, and why should I?—I'm 43 years old. It's not like I'd do anything reckless at this point.

I'm With Gerard.

This shit is offensive.

And I'm speaking as a chick who isn't positive that white people wearing blackface is necessarily meant in a bad way. (It often is, but it really depends upon the spirit in which it's done. When my friends who were a heterosexual couple cross-dressed to attend a costume party as Ozzie and Sharon Osborne, were they putting down each other's gender? Of course not. Masquerade is about getting out of our own skins, if only in a superficial, symbolic way. There's nothing more natural than using such occasions to escape the limitations of race, class, and gender.)

There's simply a line that's crossed when an "artist" gives animal features to one race, and one race only. This is not subtle, or difficult to understand. Use your eyes.

The Mexican authorities ought to be ashamed of themselves.

Via Everybody

. . . the video (at Political Teen) of Christopher Hitchens hitting Ron Reagan, Jr., with a rolled-up newspaper.

It was the finest of guilty pleasures; Hitchens is a lefty I love to love.

More Attacks on Britain?

Holy shit.

I hope this is just British hysteria, a la all those bogus Jack the Ripper letters in the 19th century. I'm going to assume some joker just sent a prank warning.

But it's very worrisome.

UPDATE: It looks like most of the suspicious packages have been dealt with, and it was just the "centre" of the city that had to be evacuated. So there have been confused tourists heading back to their hotels much too early—not a bad tradeoff for public safety.

I'd still like to hear what happened to that last suspicious item.

Authorities are stressing that this isn't connected with events in London, but I'm not sure they wouldn't say that anyway.

UPDATE: Looks like everyone is safe and sound, but some people did have to sleep outside. That last package was determined to be harmless.

The authorities defend the incident by saying their intelligence was "specific," and "credible."

The Bear Flag League Conference Is Next Weekend!

Via Patterico, a reminder about the Bear Flag League blogging conference next Sunday the 17th at 1:00 p.m.

This is a reminder that the Bear Flag League Conference will be on July 17 at the Avery House at Caltech in Pasadena.

$50 gets you lunch, the chance to hear Dan Weintraub, Bob Hertzberg, Ted Costa, and others — and the chance to meet some of your favorite Southern California bloggers, including Gerard Vanderleun of American Digest, Xrlq, Baldilocks, Gay Patriot, BoiFromTroy, members of Local Liberty Blog, Little Miss Attila, and others. Including me.

And the invitation is open to anyone! You don’t have to be a blogger.

If you are a Hugh Hewitt listener, I can get you in for $40. Just write me . . . and I’ll make the arrangements for you.

UPDATE: Offer extended to readers of Captain’s Quarters (though I believe there is substantial overlap between his audience and Hugh’s).

It's worth noting that people are going to be coming from all over California to participate in this. I would encourage residents of Arizona and Nevada to consider it as well. It's going to be a very solid conference, and a lot of the libertarian heavy-hitters of the blogging world are going to be there—both attending and speaking.

The Calblog master post has the details, and you can sign up there (also, send me a note if you're one of my readers registering through me; I get "credit").

SPEAKERS INCLUDE:
Ted Costa, Fair Districts
Allan Hoffenblum, California Targetbook
Bob Hertzberg, former L.A. Mayoral candidate
Joseph C. Phillips, of the Conservative Brotherhood

A Day Off

I'm going to take it easy today, since it's my birfday. (Not barfday—birfday.)

I'll be listening to the compilation CD a good friend sent me, and heading out to a real estate investment workshop in Santa Monica. Then I'll grill some chicken for my husband. (No, we're not going out this year. We're nesting.)

Please send prayer/positive energy to London and the Miami area.

P.S. What year? Same year as the Seattle Space Needle; we're only a few months apart. I'm what they call, in the design trade, a mid-century piece.

Girlcott!

That's my new idea for supporting Britain. It's shallow, it's fun, and it involves spending money. What could be better?

For the next four weeks I intend to buy as many British products as possible. Especially Tanqueray Ten gin and Twinings Earl Grey tea. I'll replace my Ketel One vodka with Three Olives, and load up on mustard, chutney, marmalade, and lemon curd.

(For a crime writer, Colman's mustard is a two-fer: Dorothy L. Sayers headed up one of Colman's most successful advertising campaigns before she quit advertising altogether to devote herself to writing mysteries.)

Maybe next winter I'll even buy a bottle of Bushmills, though I tend to prefer Jameson, because it's Irish Irish. (And I don't drink whiskey during the summer, because that's a yucky thing to do: summer calls for gin or vodka drinks. Just like I would never wear high heels with shorts, because that's too slutty even for me.)

Gluttonous lushes of the world, unite and support the British in whatever way you can.

Rehnquist, Too.

So it looks like Bush will have to appoint his strict constructionist and his moderate to the Supreme Court more or less in tandem. Which will spare us a lot of legislative fireworks.

A shame. I was looking forward to the fight, in a certain way.

Years from Now

will it be confusing to schoolchildren that on 7/4 they are supposed to celebrate our liberation from the wicked English, and on 7/7 they are supposed to feel bad that some people living in England were killed?

"The ones we killed in the 1770s were bad Englishmen. The ones that got killed in 2005 were good Englishmen. The ones that burned the first White House in 1812 were very bad Englishmen indeed. The ones that oppressed the Irish . . . can you guess? I'll bet you know the answer to that one, right?"

I hope my kids grow up fast enough that I can bring some nuance into the discussion. I'm especially looking forward to explaining "blowback" as it relates to international diplomacy. The discussion of the Hitler-Stalin pact will be fun. My daughter will learn to block out the sound of my voice, just as I blocked out my own mother's voice as she discussed mathematical principles.

More on 7/7

Malkin's tracking the investigation. Naturally, she includes tart observations about dangerous individuals who were allowed to remain in London despite their terrorist ties.

The Plots That Get Thwarted

I've heard radically different estimates of how many terrorist plots get foiled every year. It's almost impossible to measure such a thing, and if you did you'd have trouble breaking it down by target country.

Lair has a problem with the "we are all Londoners" meme that so many of us indulged in yesterday (including me). After all, he points out, that means we in the West have to switch nationalities every time there's a successful attack. Sure, it's silly (though I'm sentimental that way).

What we all are, he asserts, is infidels. Correct. And "infidel," by the way, encompasses a lot of Muslims: at least two of the train stations selected were near neighborhoods inhabited predominantly by Muslims.

Measuring how many of these plots are thwarted gets snarled up if you try to figure out which "infidels" they are aimed at. After all, AQ and its allies are perfectly willing to substitute one Western target for another.

The point is, the cells are being rolled up continually, on every continent. California Mafia has an update on the cell in Lodi. It sounds like a joke, until you think of how close Lodi is to Sacramento, and how central it is to the U.S.'s most populated state. Shipping, agriculture, the state government: all were within reach.

Comparing the horror of London yesterday with what these motherfuckers "accomplished" in Madrid leaves one underwhelmed—and almost makes me understand those Brits in the pubs yesterday afternoon, yawning bravely and asking if that was all the terrorists had before ordering another warm beer.

It was a failure. The terrorists brought a knife to a gun fight. We know that their ability to pull these things off depends upon their resources: they will always go for the biggest target, the greatest symbolism, and the highest body count. It was a tiny bloodbath, not even in the same league with 3/11 in Madrid.

Even 9/11 was a failure, measured against its goals: AQ meant to bomb the Capitol building, but failed. Its supposedly brilliant planners hoped that the WTC towers would fall over, and on top of other buildings in the financial district. Most analysts agree that the White House was the initial target of the plane that hit the Pentagon: the hijackers hadn't realized how hard it is to see the White House from the air.

The 9/11 attack was supposed to kill tens or hundreds of thousands, not several thousand. And the U.S. government was supposed to be decapitated, with both the Capitol building and the White House in ruins.

These guys are far from defeated, but they grow weaker every year. It will take many more years, but we are winning.

We are.

Exclusive! Blair is a Jooo! And He Bombed the Tube!

Via Goldstein, the Stratfor brief everyone's talking about. This details a rumor within the intelligence community to the effect that Blair's government knew in advance about the subway bombings. This is being spun furiously by moonbats and Buchananites alike.

The problem? There are two versions of this rumor: in the first, UK authorities told the Israelis about the terrorist attacks minutes before they actually occurred, and in the second version, the Israelis tipped the British off a few days earlier.

Obviously, it's unlikely that both are true, and extraordinarily unlikely that UK security knew anything actionable before this happened. (Sure there might have been one of those memos like the one Condi Rice got grilled about by the 9/11 Commission, which essentially said, "Bin Ladin would like to strike here in the States somewhere, sometime. You betcha.")

This sounds a lot like a combo plate: a little bit of "Blair knew!" with some "the Jooos did it!" on the side.

We're missing the Masons and the Trilateral Commission, but they'll pop up sooner or later.

Tony Blair

Political Teen has the video of his statement. He's clearly fighting to control his emotions; you can tell by the cadence of his speech. Other than that, he keeps the stiff upper lip.

Sully is so shaken up that he hasn't posted about gay marriage all day. Go to his site, though: there's wonderful stuff on the British reaction, and that strange stoicism that put a lot of Britons into pubs today, assiduously following sports. The sportscasters didn't mention the bombing, and the games weren't called off: it's just the quiet British way of telling the terrorists to get fucked.

London Calling

From a Protein Wisdom commenter comes this map of the explosion sites.

Hitch:

If, as one must suspect, these bombs are only the first, then Britain will start to undergo the same tensions—between a retreat to insularity and clannishness of the sort recently seen in France and Holland, and the self-segregation of the Muslim minority in both those countries—that will start to infect other European countries as well. It is ludicrous to try and reduce this to Iraq. Europe is steadily becoming a part of the civil war that is roiling the Islamic world, and it will require all our cultural ingenuity to ensure that the criminals who shattered London's peace at rush hour this morning are not the ones who dictate the pace and rhythm of events from now on.

Always nice to hear from one of the few remaining intellectually honest leftists in the world.

After the Rodney King verdict there were riots in Los Angeles. My boyfriend—now my husband—called me and told me to stay put that night. I did, and I watched television all evening to stay on top of what was going on. (That was before the internet was widely available, at least in its present form.)

The next day I figured out how to take the freeway around the center of the city. I swung by work to collect my papers and headed to Glendale, where Attila the fiance lived. It wasn't clear how long the riots were going to last, so I went to Vons that afternoon to stock up on food. Although Glendale wasn't too close to the center of the city, we were going to stay inside until we saw actual law and order in L.A.

It was a scary time: a few homeowners in the Bohemian part of Venice had resisted the cultural pressure to not own guns. A few of these people took up posts on their roofs to keep the mostly black hoodlums from invading their homes.

In Koreatown, closer to the center of events, grocery store owner used bags of rice as sandbags to create perimeters around their businesses. These people had military-issue rifles, and each store had at least two men guarding it.

At Vons I got enough staples to last a few days. The line was very long; I could tell it would take around 45 minutes to get out of there. (And I'm an American: five minutes is a long time to wait for the checker in the grocery store.) In the meantime I talked to a black woman about what a terrible situation we were in. No one mentioned race, because it was understood then that the problem was hoodlums versus civilized people.

And so it is with muslims: the vast majority are decent, but those who are must be willing to condemn those who want to bring Western Civilization down.

There is no room for waffling, here. AQ wants to take us back to the 12th century.

And I'm not going.

You might want to take this moment to choose sides.

The "Fuck Terrorists" Post

I hope I'm being clear.

The News from Spain

Well, Britain.

And Britain is a very different place from Spain. As Al Qaeda is about to find out.

Goldstein has the roundup of roundups, so he's an excellent place to start.

My mother-in-law lived through the bombing of London during WWII as a young woman, and nearly lost her life. My husband and his siblings were adults before they figured out why she became tense every time pots and pans clanked together—or got dropped—in the kitchen.

I slept late today, and when I woke up I logged in and saw what had happened. My first thought was AQ.

I started some tea, and my husband came up the stairs. "They bombed London."

"I saw."

"In a way, it was a good target, because of G8."

"But it's the British. This might prove to be a big mistake."

"It probably will."

Today we are all British, except for the mealy-mouthed politicians who are already suggesting that this bad thing happened because we made the poor misunderstood terrorists mad.

What, exactly, had New York and Washington done to make them mad before 9/11?

Greyhawk:

An attack on a nation hosting the leaders of the civilized world certainly sends a message, after all. A carefully considered reply delivered soon would be appropriate.

Fuck, yeah.

Concrete Actions You Can Take Against Al Qaeda

The Yemeni government just shut down the opposition newspaper, and its editor—whom we sprang from jail just a few months ago—may well be killed.

I'm asking all my readers to send e-mail to remind them that the West has millions of compassionate people who are watching them.

Here's your one-stop shopping to write to the Yemeni brass:

click here
 
Suggested subject lines:
"In support of al-Khaiwanii and al-Shoura"
or "in support of a Free Press in Yemen"
or to really want to annoy them "regarding my cousin al-Khaiwanii"
maybe "Waiting for the next issue of al-Shoura."

Please do this; the best way to express solidarity with Britain right now is to keep the pressure on AQ sympathizers around the world. Yemen's in trouble, and a man's life is in jeopardy.

Please reproduce this post on your own sites. No link back here is necessary. Write me if you need the html for the above, or simply a list of the addresses. Most of the Cotillion ladies have the same information, if you can't get hold of me this afternoon.

Thank you.

Cow Puppies

In the course of trying to fix a few technical snafus we're experiencing in Munuvia, Pixy posted an interesting tidbit about an interesting Masai gift to Manhattan.

I'm enchanted by the idea of cow puppies, but I do have to point out that horse puppies do exist. When I lived in Glendale, I occasionally watched the neighbor walk his miniature horse, which was the size of a large dog.

I tell my husband that after the baby gets here (and once he/she is old enough), we have to get a big dog. Mostly I'm telling the truth. But sometimes by that I mean, "or a tiny horse."

But no one could ride such a small horse, and they don't fetch.

It's possible that this is another one of my slightly impractical ideas.

Happy Birthday to You,

Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, Mr. President.
Happy birthday to you.

Thanks for messing with people's minds, W.

(And don't forget to pray for him. That site, BTW, is NSFMPF [Not Safe For My Pagan Friends—Christian content. BEWARE!].)

Time for the Pogo!

It's dance time this week for the ladies of the cotillion, some of whom are donning their black leather jackets and motorcycle boots to go down and catch the punk groups that are now starting to tour again, such as X.

Remember that you can dance for real if it's new wave music, but if it's outright punk you're going to either do the pogo or the worm. We'll look ravishing doing it, as long as we remembered to cut our hair into mohawks— or dye it burgundy. Or at least give it that Laurie Anderson look.

All the dances are here at the main cotillion site. And be sure to check out the individual dances at Reasoned Audacity, The Anchoress, and Jody at Steal the Bandwagon.

Ilyka Damen has fun with the Code Pink 4th of July “celebration�—complete with its talking points written by a man.

Christina at Feisty Repartee shares some colorful memories of her mother’s passion for gambling—particularly on the Las Vegas strip.

e-claire has a special potato salad recipe!

Dr. Sanity discusses denial—and, not so incidentally, the Democratic Party.

Girl on the Right analyzes the implications of Canada’s new bill, that (as I understand it) outlaws discrimination against gay couples by CHURCHES. Of course, this is a very strange notion to the Stateside mind, but that’s because some sense of church-state separation has probably worked its way permanently into my brain.

Darleen has a Stateside meditation in honor of our Independence Day on the nature of being “American.� (Of course, some of her points can be extended to all North American culture, and some apply to Western Europe as well. But she starts in the U.S., in honor of Independence Day.)

Florida Cracker discusses the interesting developments in Iran.

Crystal Clear discusses the practicality of JPL’s/NASA’s latest endeavor—bringing out the sexists in her comments section. (I kid you not; one of these gentlemen conflated “science� with “arithmetic,� and then denigrated her intelligence! It was priceless.)

Stefania at the delightful bilingual blog Free Thoughts shares her convictions about the G8 summit, focusing on 1) debt relief for the corrupt nations in Africa, and 2) the situation in Iran. Regarding the matter of African aid, she wisely opines:

Free money is inherently corrupting in a poor society. It is a dangerous drug, and it is irresponsible to prescribe it without close supervision to counteract negative side effects.

While discussing on how to reduce poverty and help the countries and peoples in need, the G8 leaders should commit themselves to promote democracy and self-government in Africa. They should help strengthen the newborn democracies like Senegal, Nigeria and a few others.

Can I get an “amen�?

Sadie at Fistful of Fortnights scores an interview with Velociman

And Lisa over at Just a Girl in the World mulls over the issues of freedom vs. respect for the American flag.

How Annoying.

I was really enjoying my total dislike of Al Franken, but it appears that he's one of several people in the country who claim to "support the troops, but not the war"—and mean it.

I Love a Man in a Uniform (and the Women, Too!)

It's the Fourth of July, and the Cotillion girls are dancing with the Milbloggers!

My dance partners for the day: a group of fine men who either have served or are serving this country.

I’m honoring a Navy Seal, a gentleman from the army’s Special Forces, three “former� Marines, and one active-duty one. After all, the USMC has a special place in my life (Attila the Hub having been one of the few and the proud).

Next year, I’m hoping to add at least one Vietnam-era LRRP—because another special friend of ours used to do these dangerous patrols in 'Nam many years ago.

Without further ado I give you—

“USMC� in Al Fallujah, who is giving us on-the-ground news from Iraq, practically in real time. This is a great starting point for those of us who want to cut through the BS out there and find out what’s really going on.

Matthew Heidt of Froggy Ruminations, whose entries are always thoughtful and well-reasoned (and, yes: we’ve had a couple of spirited arguments, handled with good sense and politeness on—well, on his side, at least).

Special Forces Alpha Geek is a “findâ€�—a nicely written blog with a fresh perspective.

Nick D. , the host of Twenty-first Century Republican, brings a lot to the party—and more to the cotillion’s July 4th Gala.

Marvin of Little Red Blog is a great writer, a thinker—and a good dancer. Here, he shares some important observations about aid to Africa.

The Marine officer and future lawyer who publishes Law and Ordnance always has good insights; here, he tackles Pablo Paredes.

And Former Marine Ben writes fabulous essays; he’s a straight shooter and we’re lucky to have him online.

Thanks to all who have put on a uniform to defend this country. And thanks to their families, who have endured and sacrified so much in the efforts to keep us safe.

Happy Independence Day!

The gals at the cotillion are honoring the men and women in uniform today. Take a sneak peak at my dance card, along with everyone else's. (I'm meeting with a client, of all the unfair things, so my post will be up in a few hours.)

And a special thank you to the dreamy men who started it all: George Washington, Ben Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Paine, John Hancock . . . and a certain French king who paid for it all (eventually with his life).

Men like Washington and Franklin had little to gain, and everything to lose in this grand experiment. They were trying to do something that had never been done before, and they persevered, suffering defeat after defeat.

And they were the midwives to an entirely new type of government—one that borrowed from the English parliamentary system but improved upon it, and stated the principles of equality for all in such bald language, it threatened to tear the country apart 100 years later—making it infinitely better, instead.

Thank you for all the risks. Thank you for the sacrifices. Thank you for your brilliance and your vision.

Stop! In the Name of Law!

Commenting on this post, wherein Patterico takes the wood to the L.A. Times, as is his wont, Dean Esmay discusses all the overwrought commentary on Justice O'Conner:

I am rather amused at all the gushing praise we're seeing from much of the press about what a wonderful wise Solomonic moderate Sandra Day O'Connor was . . . .

My only question: where were all these people who are now praising her as wise, virtuous, brilliantly moderate, etc. when she came down with the majority on Bush v. Gore? Somehow I doubt all the people slobbering over her now were all that friendly to her then.

Ah, but that was different. For one week in 2000, she was G.W.'s ho. Now she's a saint.

My take? Glad you asked: far preferable to lose O'Conner before Rehnquist. Once they both retire, it'll be a wash, since Bush is going to appoint a conservative this time, and a centrist to replace Rehnquist. And there's going to be a bloodbath in the Senate over something that won't ultimately change the ideological composition of the Court.

A friend of mine asks me, "won't abortion be illegal if Roe v. Wade is overturned?"

"No," I tell him. "And it won't be overturned, either. Not within the next ten years, anyway."

More on Chickenhawks.

Goldstein carries the meme to its logical conclusion.

While We Were Out of Town

. . . Attila the Hub had to use my laptop a couple of times. He was utterly fascinated by how filthy the keyboard and screen are.

"What are these . . . these little dots?" he asked, more intrigued than disapproving.

"Well, um. To me they look like itty bitty spots of milk, smaller than pinheads. A person might, um, might get that effect if they, you know. If they had a habit of eating breakfast cereal while surfing the web."

Sometimes I'm truly amazed that this man can put up with me.

My First Acupuncture Visit

. . . was today, and I really enjoyed it. The practitioner was a kind, funny man who stuck little needles in me and left me in the dark for 15 minutes, which is more than I meditate in a week under normal circumstances. After five minutes I felt a sort of warmth, as if the chi were moving through my body. Or endorphins, perhaps.

And I got a backrub out of it, too.

The practitioner tells me I'm taking too many drugs, and suggests that with the right herbs, I could get off of them. At the moment I'm working on getting off of sleeping pills: I hear there are some very advanced therapies for insomniacs these days. Then, perhaps, the birth control pills, if this guy can really make my cramps go away with Eastern medicine.

The Prozac? I find myself considering the possibility that with a combination of herbs, massage, T'ai Chi and acupuncture I might someday be less of bitch without the benefit of pills. Then I decide to acknowledge my real feelings: cold, dead hands, Baby.

I've decided to begin stockpiling, against the day that the Supreme Court rules on whether Eminent Domain can be used to take my SSRIs for some greater good.

To Hell with Jeff's Career

. . . as a "serious" writer. I got a fix, and that's all that matters right now.

(It's good stuff, too.)