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In less happy times- notably, the day after the 2004 election, I was fond of quoting Greil Marcus at some length: In Berkeley in the mid-1960s, I used to marvel at the way friends made the world anew each day by cartwheeling down the street, moment to moment exchanging Trotskyism for anarchism for Stalinism for the occult for drugs for religion while Professors who in the 1930s were Communists and were now Freudians explained it all. In every case there was a received answer to every question, which meant that there were no questions. Everything seemed possible, and the prospect was terrifying-- so "nothing is true", one basis for "everything is possible", was exchanged for one Truth, whatever it was. Everything was present save a critical spirit, which might have made real the great adventure in doubt that, as Descartes described it, lay behind his "Cogito, ergo sum": his dead slogan. No doubt the mad multiplication of choice by which "the sixties" are known led straight to a surrender of choice in the next decades, a surrender to authoritarian religion, authoritarian politics- for some, freedom from doubt was always the point, peace of mind worth any price. An aide to Senator Jesse Helms, tribune of the American right, could speak of the need to go back beyond Descartes, explaining that inside all the vulgar propaganda of fetus murder and racist nightmare was a true project: the repeal of the Enlightenment, the rebuilding of a world where the affirmation of one’s own thoughts was a sin, the return of the will to God. Everyone knows history moves in circles; the surprise is how big the circles are. I've been thinking about that today, and thinking that it's not always so bad that history moves in circles- there are good things to be found in the past, shining moments when decency and justice have found their way, against horrendous odds and the pernicious scheming of petty and evil men, back into the forefront of civic life. Tonight, on NBC Nightly News, there was an interview with an 87 year old veteran of the US Tuskegee Airmen. In a beautiful gesture, the surviving members have been invited to the inauguration. Asked how he's going to feel watching Barack Obama take the oath of office, this old man, this hero, said: "Well, I can't really say what's going to happen, because I've never seen such a thing before, and thought I never would. I think it's going to feel a bit like... Heaven." I couldn't presume to add anything to that. I don't know if Gary Trudeau has ever done a rerun of a Doonesbury cartoon, but he could do worse this Tuesday than to reprint this masterpiece from September 2, 1974: Welcome back, America. We've missed you. |
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I have never before actually uttered the phrase "In the immortal words of Gerald Ford". Ladies and gentlemen, in the immortal words of Gerald Ford: "Our long national nightmare is over." |
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So I'm sitting here idly watching television, and PBS is showing Ken Burns' latest series: The War. I've not seen any of it yet, so I figure what the heck. If nothing else, the sonorous narration of another Burns series is bound to help me get some sleep. But then, just as it was about to start, I sat up and took notice, for in its now typical introduction, PBS has an announcer say: "Corporate funding for The War is provided by..." I am speechless. |
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If you live on Birchman Avenue between Sanguinet and Eldridge Streets in Fort Worth, Texas, and you own a pit bull named Bear: Thank you so much for encouraging your dog to chase me as I rode my Y-foil past your house this afternoon. I haven't done enough speed work lately; three blocks going all-out in 53/14 sprinting away from your snarling animal was exhilarating and quite good for my cardiovascular fitness. I could have done without having to blow through two stop signs at 24 MPH, but I guess that's the price you have to pay to get a good workout in the city. I do apologize for having left Bear behind when he collapsed, panting in the road. A more concerned cyclist would have gone back to check on him, since you were apparently unable to get up out of your lawn chair. All the best -Your pal, Pete
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Then the first plane hits the towers. Then the second, followed in turn by the dreadful collapse. Within a very short time you make the joyful discovery that you are not a misanthrope after all. Phoenix-like, your heart is reborn from the ashes, bouyed in part by the shameful sensation of lightness that comes from knowing they were somebody else's ashes. You love the human race. At least you love Rudy Giuliani. And firemen. And New Yorkers. How could you not? Everybody on earth, in fact, except terrorists, and those who harbor terrorists, and those who support terror, and those who might be doing any or all of the above, and perhaps also those too squeamish to see the wisdom of the articles that begin to appear in respected national publications discussing the imminent necessity of torture, and all of a sudden, in the words of Yeats and in the manner of Celine, "a terrible beauty is born." -Garret Keizer, "How the Devil Falls In Love: Misanthropy, Prejudice, and Other Follies", Harper's Magazine, August 2002. |
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Keith Olbermann is my new hero. Posted without comment:
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This image is just too disturbing to pass up. Please, someone provide a caption.
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I guess there had to come a time when I would find something worthy of actually posting, and this sentence from google is it: Your search - "developers live in fantasyland" - did not match any documents. Never saw that one coming.
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