Call him a secret Muslim. Or a coke head/dealer. I guess that’s politics.
But shutting down an honest intellectual discussion with an ad like this crosses the line for me. Until this point I was certain that regardless of my preference of nominee, I’d only vote for those with a big D suffix in the general election. I’m no longer so sure.
John Edwards has received his deserved share of ridicule. A barber on L Street in Washington advertises $400 Presidential Haircut Specials. But maybe the class crusader hasn’t been spending enough? The Spiegel reports our darling mini-Berlusconi in la France is claiming a 34,445 Euro refund from the electoral commission for his campaign’s make-up expenses. Calling them “excessively high,” the electoral commission will only refund a third.
Memo to John: if you want a shot, stop being stingy and spend the money like a real president. Call now to receive a free supermodel (while supplies last).
The Library of Congress started a Flickr account with some amazing photographs from their collection, in part to help them identify the pictures better.
I may never got comfortable with blogging, because I feel the urge to apologize for anything excessively self-centered. So without any sort of self-consciously ironic introduction, I present you a list of 10 things I didn’t know I liked one year ago. I wrote the list itself in December, in the spirit of easonal/consumer guide retrospectives.
After watching the returns from Tuesday night’s New Hampshire debacle, in which the Dragon Lady secured her seat for long haul, and Ol’ Reliable simply kept his warm, I was reminded of a state in dire need of representation in the modern American electoral process: Puerto Rico.
Yes, that disrespected commonwealth, or unincorporated organized territory as it’s known in some parts, has newfound importance. It is time that Borikén had the earliest primary therefore ridding ourselves of the discomfort we feel seeing in seeing White Power at its finest; whether at play in the cornfields or at work in granite quarries, these states don’t represent the changing demographics of America in the least.
Puerto Rico is not only heavily Latino, it is Latino. It’s not Mexico, sure, but census projections are far more favorable to our hot-blooded hermanos, even if they aren’t the much-vilified “wetbacks” smuggled along with a coyote. Indeed, by 2050 Latinos will represent exactly half the population of white America, and the majority in states like California and Arizona.
So here is how it works: politicians will cast aside their pea coats for tropical garb and the process will have a twist. PR is still, as of last month, set to be ruled as a territory under the plenary powers of the US Congress, and yet the two parties here make their hay out the independence issue. So you’ll get your typical retail politics, only this time in order to appeal to a large swath of the population they’ll have to openly court absolute sovereignty.
Everyone will be forced to speak, or at least ape, español. The opportunities for gaffes are endless, as even the most polished candidate will be sure to put Kennedy’s “Ich bin ein Berliner” speech to shame. (The reader should note that I’m very aware that Kennedy’s grammar was correct when he gave the speech, but the jelly-filled doughnut tale will always captivate). Can you imagine Hillary Clinton’s tearful address, rehearsed after watching a stirring telenovela?
Most importantly, the island will be easy to dispose of with all the candidates buzzing about like pheromone-driven bees. You see, the US Navy had been dropping bombs on nearby Vieques until 2003; a continuation of a strafing operation wouldn’t be unthinkable. Can’t we spare a few nukes?
But I guess we’ll have to wait until another plebiscite goes out, until the statehood advocates finally get their way. The prophecy will be revealed on that day of judgment, though, this much we know for sure. Ron Paul will assume the Oval Office with howitzer in hand and hundreds of gold bricks stored inside his blimp.
Earlier today I sat on a panel on “The Future of War” with a Defense Intelligence Agency analyst and an author. The DIA guy, an old Sovietologist, moderated.
The whole thing started off normal enough. We talked about the communication needs of today’s military and how the flow of information can be disrupted. I mostly talked about the physical danger to the satellite infrastructure. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the moderator started talking about the need to think about the kind of enemy we will be facing. In the Middle East, in particular. He wondered if in such a cultural/civilizational conflict one could still distinguish between civilians and combatants. If not, he suggested, we might want to start thinking about means of war that amount to genocide (his word).
It went down hill from there. People stormed out of the room. One guy started shouting about U.S. imperialism.
Eventually things calmed down and we discussed the bioweapons threat at my urging, and we had some healthy disagreement about what was likely. We eventually wrapped the whole thing up with the obligatory “all of this doesn’t matter because the Chinese will take over the world” platitudes.
My goodie bag from the conference included:
Somehow my harassing phone calls and awkward interviews with the ambassador landed me on the Libyan Arab Jamahiriya’s mailing list, netting me an invitation to last night’s reception honoring the Great First of September Revolution.
The food was great, though other than a mound of hummus and some olives it was hardly Libyan fare. Since alcohol is banned in Libya, it wasn’t served here, either:
Older woman lobbyist: See, you were smart and are eating before getting your drink. It’s hard to eat off your plate while holding a glass.
Me: Yeah, I try not to drink fruit juice on an empty stomach.
Older woman lobbyist: Oh, why is that? Is it a medical reason?
Me: Uhh, no…you see it’s a joke.
Older woman lobbyist: [stares blankly]
Me: It’s a joke because the juice isn’t alcohol…and people shouldn’t drink alcohol on an empty stomach…
Older woman lobbyist: Oh…HAHA! That’s funny. Because they are not serving alcohol, just fruit juice.
They also showed a thrilling DVD about an intrepid group of balding white men in suits on their adventures in Libya and it somehow involved space travel. Maybe it was a preview of the new Indiana Jones?
The ambassador said that Congressman William Jefferson from California was there. Did he mean from Louisiana? You know – the guy with $90,000 in his freezer?
I also picked up my copy of the “Arabia felix” lifestyle magazine. It’s an interesting read, though it doesn’t offer tips on how to dress like Qaddafi (how do you wrap those robes without them falling off?). For instance, did you know that the waters off Libya have rich fish resources because the mostly Berber Libyans don’t fancy fish?
I do want to visit the place, now that the U.N. sanctions are lifted. Anyone want to come with?
I just got back from lunch at one of the few tolerable Mexican restaurants in DC, Casa Blanca. I’ve been there many times and have often been served by the same young waitress with a thick South-of-the-Border accent. Today she slipped up and let out an all-American “You guys done with that,” before awkwardly transitioning back into Spanglish.
(I know nobody cares, but if I say I had the Chicken Enchilada Platter I can put up a picture of it:)
Anyway, I write this because:
1. I haven’t posted anything in a while.
2. I’ll take any opportunity to whine about the lack of decent Mexican food in DC.
3. I have faked/tweaked/made up accents in the past myself. When I want to play stupid in the U.S., nothing gets rid of the relentless panhandler or telemarketer better than a Teutonic snarl. In Germany, I sometimes affect a generic Eastern European accent when I know that the request I have makes no sense coming from someone speaking fluent German. I don’t use an American accent because that would just be embarrassing.
Sure, for a capital it’s not a very impressive city. Maybe that’s why it is livable.
