Friday
5/06/04
Gimme! No, It's MINE !!
As any parent of siblings knows all too well, any given peaceful moment may, without warning, be shattered by the cry: "No! Give me that! It’s MINE!!" And sure enough, upon investigation you’ll find the two little miscreants tugging on either end of a Frisbee/fire truck/ray gun/Barbie doll or whatever.
The cause of the conflict is invariably the same: one sibling picked up a long forgotten toy and started goofing around with it. Seeing this, the other sibling is sent into a rage of righteous indignation that the toy is being touched… despite the fact that until that very moment the toy had lain long forgotten at the bottom of a closet.
Well it’s just the darndest thing, but just a moment ago I heard the squealing of two other little miscreants. When I went to investigate I found them tugging on either end of the Cuban vote. Yes, it seems that John Kerry will soon be on his way to Florida to woo that Tall Dark and Handsome political bloc, but not before Bush had taken a curiously sudden interest in publicly speeding Castro’s demise through new economic pressure.
Again as parents, we all know what happened to that toy the moment the conflict was over and there was no longer any point in hanging on to it… and it sure does seem that once the Big Conflict is resolved in November it really won’t matter much to the Cuban community in practical terms who wins. If it’s Kerry, the status quo will be maintained, and if it’s Bush, he’ll just drop the whole issue about as fast as he forgot to fund his ironically named "No Child Left Behind Act." Does Bush really give a rat’s ass about Cuba? I think not. That’s Jeb’s department.
So there they remain at the back of the national toy closet: the Cubans, No Child Left Behind and Veteran’s Benefits et al… gathering dust with Woody and Buzz.
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Gimme! No, It's MINE !!
As any parent of siblings knows all too well, any given peaceful moment may, without warning, be shattered by the cry: "No! Give me that! It’s MINE!!" And sure enough, upon investigation you’ll find the two little miscreants tugging on either end of a Frisbee/fire truck/ray gun/Barbie doll or whatever.
The cause of the conflict is invariably the same: one sibling picked up a long forgotten toy and started goofing around with it. Seeing this, the other sibling is sent into a rage of righteous indignation that the toy is being touched… despite the fact that until that very moment the toy had lain long forgotten at the bottom of a closet.
Well it’s just the darndest thing, but just a moment ago I heard the squealing of two other little miscreants. When I went to investigate I found them tugging on either end of the Cuban vote. Yes, it seems that John Kerry will soon be on his way to Florida to woo that Tall Dark and Handsome political bloc, but not before Bush had taken a curiously sudden interest in publicly speeding Castro’s demise through new economic pressure.
Again as parents, we all know what happened to that toy the moment the conflict was over and there was no longer any point in hanging on to it… and it sure does seem that once the Big Conflict is resolved in November it really won’t matter much to the Cuban community in practical terms who wins. If it’s Kerry, the status quo will be maintained, and if it’s Bush, he’ll just drop the whole issue about as fast as he forgot to fund his ironically named "No Child Left Behind Act." Does Bush really give a rat’s ass about Cuba? I think not. That’s Jeb’s department.
So there they remain at the back of the national toy closet: the Cubans, No Child Left Behind and Veteran’s Benefits et al… gathering dust with Woody and Buzz.
5/04/04
Everybody Say "Hi" to Mike!
Not so very long ago I was making my way down the hallway, laundry in hand and a happy little tune in my head; in short, I was minding my own business as I did the business of the day. It was then that I came around the corner and found the older lad on his hands and knees peeking into his room. My interest was piqued as he peeked, as it were, and in a moment I was kneeling beside him.
Being the closet Holmesian that I am, I formulated a brilliant line of questioning guaranteed to ferret the truth from my mark, regardless of how cagey he chose to be.
"Whatcha doing?" I asked.
"Keeping an eye on Ryan" came the reply.
So that was his game… spying on his little brother. I carefully considered my next move. "Um, why?" I knew I had him now.
"Cause he’s using my crayons and I want to make sure he doesn’t draw anything bad."
"Ah… oookay then." With that little mystery solved, I crept slowly away and went back about my business as I considered that I had just stumbled across the seeds of a junior black ops action right in my very own house. My son the spook.
More than that though, I was struck once again by how much little kids and governments have in common. Yesterday I happened across this link in the Daily Yak to a story about the fact that "U.S. intelligence and law enforcement officials" may be monitoring blogs for, well, clues and such, I suppose. The story goes on to note the possible involvement of the CIA… but if the CIA is involved, it’s coming late to the party.
What the story doesn’t mention is the real 800-pound gorilla in the corner: the NSA. Since the NSA was formed during the dawn of the cold war, its mission has been the collection and distillation of a single commodity: intelligence information. It’s work as a cryptographic institution went hand in hand with its mission "To intercept the adversaries communications."
It is of course indisputable that the work of the NSA was critical in winning the cold war, but what isn’t reflected in the NSA’s rosy "Rich Heritage" page is that with the fall of the Berlin wall and the collapse of the Soviet Union in the nineties, the NSA found itself in bureaucratic limbo with a severely slashed budget.
All wasn’t lost, however; in its darkest hour the NSA was saved by the new kid on the block, a prince in shining armor called the Internet. By now it was the mid 90’s and this pet project of DARPA and a few major universities was out and growing like Audry II. It wasn’t lost on either the Bush I or Clinton administrations that the world was suddenly flooded with more communications traffic than ever before; and somebody had better be paying attention.
Now as the geeks out there know, security was never even considered when the open architecture of the Internet was developed, meaning that the so-called World Wide Web is a vast, completely open, unsecured network. When you surf the net or toss email back and forth it’s not really like leaving your house unlocked, it’s more like taking a shower in your front yard. And of course blogging is little more than sheer exhibitionism anyway.
So here we stand at the dawn of a new millennium, and the NSA has a building full of shiny new supercomputers running algorithms that look for certain bad keywords and patterns of activity across the network. Since I’ve posted several rather unkind things about members of the current administration, using keywords like "shameless," "semi-retarded," and "criminal" in the same sentence as the names "Karl Rove" "George Bush," and "Dick Cheny," … you can bet that I’m on a dark list or two somewhere at the NSA.
So hey, as long as I seem to have posted all those words yet again I may as well give a shout out to NSA director Mike Hayden. I’m pretty confident he’ll get this, because after all, I’m a guy with a fistful of crayons, and I have a habit of writing naughty things.
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Everybody Say "Hi" to Mike!
Not so very long ago I was making my way down the hallway, laundry in hand and a happy little tune in my head; in short, I was minding my own business as I did the business of the day. It was then that I came around the corner and found the older lad on his hands and knees peeking into his room. My interest was piqued as he peeked, as it were, and in a moment I was kneeling beside him.
Being the closet Holmesian that I am, I formulated a brilliant line of questioning guaranteed to ferret the truth from my mark, regardless of how cagey he chose to be.
"Whatcha doing?" I asked.
"Keeping an eye on Ryan" came the reply.
So that was his game… spying on his little brother. I carefully considered my next move. "Um, why?" I knew I had him now.
"Cause he’s using my crayons and I want to make sure he doesn’t draw anything bad."
"Ah… oookay then." With that little mystery solved, I crept slowly away and went back about my business as I considered that I had just stumbled across the seeds of a junior black ops action right in my very own house. My son the spook.
More than that though, I was struck once again by how much little kids and governments have in common. Yesterday I happened across this link in the Daily Yak to a story about the fact that "U.S. intelligence and law enforcement officials" may be monitoring blogs for, well, clues and such, I suppose. The story goes on to note the possible involvement of the CIA… but if the CIA is involved, it’s coming late to the party.
What the story doesn’t mention is the real 800-pound gorilla in the corner: the NSA. Since the NSA was formed during the dawn of the cold war, its mission has been the collection and distillation of a single commodity: intelligence information. It’s work as a cryptographic institution went hand in hand with its mission "To intercept the adversaries communications."
It is of course indisputable that the work of the NSA was critical in winning the cold war, but what isn’t reflected in the NSA’s rosy "Rich Heritage" page is that with the fall of the Berlin wall and the collapse of the Soviet Union in the nineties, the NSA found itself in bureaucratic limbo with a severely slashed budget.
All wasn’t lost, however; in its darkest hour the NSA was saved by the new kid on the block, a prince in shining armor called the Internet. By now it was the mid 90’s and this pet project of DARPA and a few major universities was out and growing like Audry II. It wasn’t lost on either the Bush I or Clinton administrations that the world was suddenly flooded with more communications traffic than ever before; and somebody had better be paying attention.
Now as the geeks out there know, security was never even considered when the open architecture of the Internet was developed, meaning that the so-called World Wide Web is a vast, completely open, unsecured network. When you surf the net or toss email back and forth it’s not really like leaving your house unlocked, it’s more like taking a shower in your front yard. And of course blogging is little more than sheer exhibitionism anyway.
So here we stand at the dawn of a new millennium, and the NSA has a building full of shiny new supercomputers running algorithms that look for certain bad keywords and patterns of activity across the network. Since I’ve posted several rather unkind things about members of the current administration, using keywords like "shameless," "semi-retarded," and "criminal" in the same sentence as the names "Karl Rove" "George Bush," and "Dick Cheny," … you can bet that I’m on a dark list or two somewhere at the NSA.
So hey, as long as I seem to have posted all those words yet again I may as well give a shout out to NSA director Mike Hayden. I’m pretty confident he’ll get this, because after all, I’m a guy with a fistful of crayons, and I have a habit of writing naughty things.
Monday
5/02/04
Got Busy?
It was often said of Bill Clinton that he had an outstanding ability to compartmentalize. I suppose that would indeed be a nifty skill set to have if you’re the busiest, most important man in the world; but, luckily for me, it’s not a skill unique to alpha males with plump young interns.
In other words, late spring is here and it’s the season when it’s most critical to be deft enough to juggle all sorts of events while staying focused on the task at hand… or at the very least managing to send the boys to school in clean underwear. For our little brood this springtime has meant that in a thirty day period we have three first communions to attend, karate for both the lads, a subsequent blue belt test, little league has started, religion class hasn’t yet ended, after school homework club is ongoing, I’m in the middle of the big push to finish my degree, there’s long overdue yard work, and we have not one but two weddings of close friends to attend, one of which is in sunny Florida… which is dangerously near Disney.
In short, we be busy bees, and two of my favorite pastimes have suffered as a result: wallowing in political news and then sharing my staggeringly brilliant opinions here. Well, enough of that, I’ve got to go get dressed for a communion party. Really.
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Got Busy?
It was often said of Bill Clinton that he had an outstanding ability to compartmentalize. I suppose that would indeed be a nifty skill set to have if you’re the busiest, most important man in the world; but, luckily for me, it’s not a skill unique to alpha males with plump young interns.
In other words, late spring is here and it’s the season when it’s most critical to be deft enough to juggle all sorts of events while staying focused on the task at hand… or at the very least managing to send the boys to school in clean underwear. For our little brood this springtime has meant that in a thirty day period we have three first communions to attend, karate for both the lads, a subsequent blue belt test, little league has started, religion class hasn’t yet ended, after school homework club is ongoing, I’m in the middle of the big push to finish my degree, there’s long overdue yard work, and we have not one but two weddings of close friends to attend, one of which is in sunny Florida… which is dangerously near Disney.
In short, we be busy bees, and two of my favorite pastimes have suffered as a result: wallowing in political news and then sharing my staggeringly brilliant opinions here. Well, enough of that, I’ve got to go get dressed for a communion party. Really.
Tuesday
4/20/04
Apparently, Other People Blog Too.
Each morning, as the sun rises and the coffee goes down, I get my dose of news from our local Gannett rag, the Journal News. Then, with a bit of scrambled egg, there’s some NPR and maybe a little Air America, all of which may be washed down with some vigorous blogging.
Recently though, I’ve come to realize that it’s far too easy for me to exist in a vacuum with little or no alternative perspective about what’s going on other than what Jon Stewart tells me. In short, being the monumentally self-absorbed kind of guy that I am, I had been lame about absorbing new ideas and viewpoints from other people’s blogs.
So, for the last few weeks I’ve been back in the loop and among the living, and have actually come across some pretty good stuff. Actually, the whole experience can occasionally be rather ego-bruising when I realize how many truly superior blogs there are out there… but hey, I’m a big boy and I figure I must be eruditer than sum peoples.
Anyway, some blogs I’ve come to depend on: The Sneeze, in which I would specifically recommend April 8th’s Bernie Koppell entry… Daddy Zine which, in my humble opinion, is about the best written one around… There’s an interesting collective effort at DotMoms… A pithy, Manhattan-bound dad shares parenting stuff in Laid-Off Dad… Boing Boing is just chock full of cool geeky goodness… MOM & Pop Culture is by a woman whose life is just plain more interesting than mine… Rebel Dad of course keeps an eye out for us at-home-dads… And Woodge is, well, just Woodge.
Of course there are too many to ever really keep up with, but it's nice to be reminded that it's a big world out there.
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Apparently, Other People Blog Too.
Each morning, as the sun rises and the coffee goes down, I get my dose of news from our local Gannett rag, the Journal News. Then, with a bit of scrambled egg, there’s some NPR and maybe a little Air America, all of which may be washed down with some vigorous blogging.
Recently though, I’ve come to realize that it’s far too easy for me to exist in a vacuum with little or no alternative perspective about what’s going on other than what Jon Stewart tells me. In short, being the monumentally self-absorbed kind of guy that I am, I had been lame about absorbing new ideas and viewpoints from other people’s blogs.
So, for the last few weeks I’ve been back in the loop and among the living, and have actually come across some pretty good stuff. Actually, the whole experience can occasionally be rather ego-bruising when I realize how many truly superior blogs there are out there… but hey, I’m a big boy and I figure I must be eruditer than sum peoples.
Anyway, some blogs I’ve come to depend on: The Sneeze, in which I would specifically recommend April 8th’s Bernie Koppell entry… Daddy Zine which, in my humble opinion, is about the best written one around… There’s an interesting collective effort at DotMoms… A pithy, Manhattan-bound dad shares parenting stuff in Laid-Off Dad… Boing Boing is just chock full of cool geeky goodness… MOM & Pop Culture is by a woman whose life is just plain more interesting than mine… Rebel Dad of course keeps an eye out for us at-home-dads… And Woodge is, well, just Woodge.
Of course there are too many to ever really keep up with, but it's nice to be reminded that it's a big world out there.
4/17/04
Little League. Bah.
It occurs to me occasionally that there’s no shortage of great things about being an adult. Some are small things, like the absence of people in your life who can require you to recite multiplication tables, and some are larger, like having the option of taking long hot showers in your very own bathroom without having certain people banging on the door telling you to "stop wasting water and steaming up the bathroom." (Hi Mom!)
But one of my favorite things about being an adult is that I no longer have to pretend to like things just because I’m supposed to. When I was nine or ten at a Masonic picnic I really wanted ketchup on my hot dog, but settled for mustard after getting the "Eeewws" and funny looks. Nowadays it’s ketchup on everything, baby. Likewise, when I made it to my twenties I realized that I no longer had to go stand around in dance clubs with my dorky friends and pay $6 for a Bud Light just so I could be invisible to girls.
And this season's realization: our oldest decided he wanted to play baseball this year... but I don’t like Little League. I don’t like anything about it. Not the time spent driving back and forth to practice, not watching practice, not getting up at 6:30 so we can make it to the opening day "parade", and certainly not sitting in the sun on an aluminum bleacher for an hour and a half watching little kids whiff balls.
I know little league is a big thing and everyone seems all pumped up about it, but the whole enterprise strikes me as little more than an exercise in tedium. It’s pretty much little kids wiggling around on a bench while some other little kids are out in the field staring at the sky or digging in the dirt. Which means, of course, that it’s really all about the parents; parents for whom the whole thing is an intense social occupation as much as an athletic thing.
Now none of this is to say that I have anything against kids and sports; our oldest plays soccer and both the lads are in karate, both of which are activities that involve actual exercise and running around... all the while lacking that weird parental "must win" vibe.
Then again, maybe I’m just a weenie. But no... this is all about me being a grownup and getting to choose my likes and dislikes. And you know what? As long as I’m at it, I don’t like The Apprentice or Friends either.
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Little League. Bah.
It occurs to me occasionally that there’s no shortage of great things about being an adult. Some are small things, like the absence of people in your life who can require you to recite multiplication tables, and some are larger, like having the option of taking long hot showers in your very own bathroom without having certain people banging on the door telling you to "stop wasting water and steaming up the bathroom." (Hi Mom!)
But one of my favorite things about being an adult is that I no longer have to pretend to like things just because I’m supposed to. When I was nine or ten at a Masonic picnic I really wanted ketchup on my hot dog, but settled for mustard after getting the "Eeewws" and funny looks. Nowadays it’s ketchup on everything, baby. Likewise, when I made it to my twenties I realized that I no longer had to go stand around in dance clubs with my dorky friends and pay $6 for a Bud Light just so I could be invisible to girls.
And this season's realization: our oldest decided he wanted to play baseball this year... but I don’t like Little League. I don’t like anything about it. Not the time spent driving back and forth to practice, not watching practice, not getting up at 6:30 so we can make it to the opening day "parade", and certainly not sitting in the sun on an aluminum bleacher for an hour and a half watching little kids whiff balls.
I know little league is a big thing and everyone seems all pumped up about it, but the whole enterprise strikes me as little more than an exercise in tedium. It’s pretty much little kids wiggling around on a bench while some other little kids are out in the field staring at the sky or digging in the dirt. Which means, of course, that it’s really all about the parents; parents for whom the whole thing is an intense social occupation as much as an athletic thing.
Now none of this is to say that I have anything against kids and sports; our oldest plays soccer and both the lads are in karate, both of which are activities that involve actual exercise and running around... all the while lacking that weird parental "must win" vibe.
Then again, maybe I’m just a weenie. But no... this is all about me being a grownup and getting to choose my likes and dislikes. And you know what? As long as I’m at it, I don’t like The Apprentice or Friends either.
Sunday
4/14/04
It All Hurts So Good
Not only was I the sort of rough and tumble boy growing up that had perpetually skinned knees, but I was incapable of not picking at the scabs. And that may be, I suppose, a surefire psychological indicator that I’m drawn to mildly masochistic activities… sort of like watching the 9/11 hearings.
Even though I should know better, I’ve been stopping by CNN on occasion to check out who has what to say, and yesterday it happened to be Ashcroft. And according to Ashcroft, as unlikely as it may seem, everything is still Clinton’s fault.
--A shame and all but not our fault. Only had the 233 days in office. No time to effect any changes. Systemic problems. "Ossama Bin Laden Determined to Strike Inside the U.S"? Yes, but no dates and times handed to us… bad, bad Clinton.--
Bad Clinton indeed. You’d almost think he’d spent his entire second term dealing with endless investigations and hearings rather than concentrating on really important presidential duties… like getting more nookie on the side. (Rimshot, please) Yes, that was just a bit of liberal whining, but hey, just like the bumper sticker says: "When Clinton lied, nobody died."
That said, I can barely bring myself to go on about Bush’s "news conference" last night during which he politely pretended to listen to "reporter’s" questions before launching into entirely unrelated responses.
Q: (Elisabeth) Do you feel a sense of personal responsibility for September 11th?
A: Ya know… Lemme tell ya, the Iraqi people... they love freedom… (and on and on and on)
Anyhow, although I usually need a dose of Spongebob at the end of the day to decompress and maintain my sanity, he may not be enough today. In fact, I actually sort of wish I had a scab or two.
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It All Hurts So Good
Not only was I the sort of rough and tumble boy growing up that had perpetually skinned knees, but I was incapable of not picking at the scabs. And that may be, I suppose, a surefire psychological indicator that I’m drawn to mildly masochistic activities… sort of like watching the 9/11 hearings.
Even though I should know better, I’ve been stopping by CNN on occasion to check out who has what to say, and yesterday it happened to be Ashcroft. And according to Ashcroft, as unlikely as it may seem, everything is still Clinton’s fault.
--A shame and all but not our fault. Only had the 233 days in office. No time to effect any changes. Systemic problems. "Ossama Bin Laden Determined to Strike Inside the U.S"? Yes, but no dates and times handed to us… bad, bad Clinton.--
Bad Clinton indeed. You’d almost think he’d spent his entire second term dealing with endless investigations and hearings rather than concentrating on really important presidential duties… like getting more nookie on the side. (Rimshot, please) Yes, that was just a bit of liberal whining, but hey, just like the bumper sticker says: "When Clinton lied, nobody died."
That said, I can barely bring myself to go on about Bush’s "news conference" last night during which he politely pretended to listen to "reporter’s" questions before launching into entirely unrelated responses.
Q: (Elisabeth) Do you feel a sense of personal responsibility for September 11th?
A: Ya know… Lemme tell ya, the Iraqi people... they love freedom… (and on and on and on)
Anyhow, although I usually need a dose of Spongebob at the end of the day to decompress and maintain my sanity, he may not be enough today. In fact, I actually sort of wish I had a scab or two.
4/12/04
No, My Boys are the Cutest.
As I sat here this morning, staring bleary eyed at my inbox and trying to wake up, I was sorely tempted to start blogging about our Easter. All about our adorable boys, how well behaved they were in church, the outstanding egg hunt put on by my mom, and the culinary bliss of a roast leg of lamb dinner shared with an old family friend. We drank some pretty good Merlot and talked books, music, the Rangers, and ranted about politics; all topped off with even better coffee.
And then I thought, naw, I’ll bet everybody who does Easter is doing just that right now; blogging about how cute their kids are and reflecting on what Easter means to them. So, I’ll spare the world one of my lengthy, pompous essays on the themes of rebirth, redemption, and forgiveness and just leave it that my boys are indeed the cutest egg-hunters ever. So there.
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No, My Boys are the Cutest.
As I sat here this morning, staring bleary eyed at my inbox and trying to wake up, I was sorely tempted to start blogging about our Easter. All about our adorable boys, how well behaved they were in church, the outstanding egg hunt put on by my mom, and the culinary bliss of a roast leg of lamb dinner shared with an old family friend. We drank some pretty good Merlot and talked books, music, the Rangers, and ranted about politics; all topped off with even better coffee.
And then I thought, naw, I’ll bet everybody who does Easter is doing just that right now; blogging about how cute their kids are and reflecting on what Easter means to them. So, I’ll spare the world one of my lengthy, pompous essays on the themes of rebirth, redemption, and forgiveness and just leave it that my boys are indeed the cutest egg-hunters ever. So there.
4/10/04
My Very Own Howard Stern Conspiracy Theory.
Years and years ago, I listened to a pretty good DJ on WNBC AM radio here in New York. While he was rude and juvenile, his show had a youthful energy and he made the effort to be genuinely clever and funny. No topic was out of bounds on his show, and all in all it made for a great breath of fresh air around here.
But of course that was twenty years ago, and ever since Howard Stern has been making the long descent from clever guy with funny ideas to embarrassing hack who is as much a parody of himself as he is poster boy for the Delusions of Grandeur Club. But, despite what I think of Howard’s career, I was disturbed to read that he is officially being dumped by Clear Channel Communications… a decision for which I can see little plausible rationale other than blatant censorship.
The move came after the FCC "proposed fining" Clear Channel $495,000 for allegedly sexually explicit material on Stern’s show. The fine itself is interesting in that even though most fines issued are blanket amounts covering an entire show, in this case the FCC proposed the maximum of $27,500 for 18 individual violations within a particular broadcast. Clear Channel Radio president John Hogan had this to say about the matter: "Mr. Stern’s show has created a great liability for us and other broadcasters who air it."
Ah yes, a liability… but for who really? Let’s take a step back and work out just who’s who. Stern, on his Clear Channel stations, finally started going after Bush. Clear Channel Communications of course owns nearly two thousand radio stations nation wide, and is perhaps best known for cutting the Dixie Chicks from its playlists after the Chicks had the temerity to criticize Bush. Similarly, in 2003 Clear Channel stations spent a great deal of time organizing local pro-war rallies to help counter the flood of worldwide protest against the war. And who runs Clear Channel? Why none other than Texan Lowry Mays who is a lifelong republican donor and close Bush family friend.
Now all of this is well known, but what I think is the master stroke is how skillfully Bush’s puppeteers orchestrated Stern’s takedown without embarrassing Clear Channel’s Lowry: they just brought in the FCC. An FCC, by the way, whose chairman is Michael Powell, none other that Colin Powell's little boy.
Here’s how I think it went down…
The time, early February. The place, a washroom somewhere in the bowels of the White House.
Karl Rove: Hey Colin.
Colin Powell: Hey Karl.
K: Boy that whole Janet Jackson titty thing sure hit the fan, huh?
C: Yeah, it was good for a whole week of page one, above the fold.
K: Yup. Say, you know that Stern radio guy?
C: Yeah.
K: Well, lately he’s been shooting his mouth off, saying a lot of shit he shouldn’t be.
C: Oh yeah?
K: Yeah, listen, we’ve got a little job for your son over at the FCC…
C: No problem. Hey! Stop grabbing it so tight, I’ll never be able to finish like that…
All right, I’ll admit I just made up that last line, but I’ll bet anything that the rest of that conversation is pretty close to the real thing.
So anyway, that’s my own little conspiracy theory, offered for your consideration. Go on, take it out for a spin and see how it handles. If you like it, I’ve got plenty more. Hey! Where the hell is my aluminum foil hat?
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My Very Own Howard Stern Conspiracy Theory.
Years and years ago, I listened to a pretty good DJ on WNBC AM radio here in New York. While he was rude and juvenile, his show had a youthful energy and he made the effort to be genuinely clever and funny. No topic was out of bounds on his show, and all in all it made for a great breath of fresh air around here.
But of course that was twenty years ago, and ever since Howard Stern has been making the long descent from clever guy with funny ideas to embarrassing hack who is as much a parody of himself as he is poster boy for the Delusions of Grandeur Club. But, despite what I think of Howard’s career, I was disturbed to read that he is officially being dumped by Clear Channel Communications… a decision for which I can see little plausible rationale other than blatant censorship.
The move came after the FCC "proposed fining" Clear Channel $495,000 for allegedly sexually explicit material on Stern’s show. The fine itself is interesting in that even though most fines issued are blanket amounts covering an entire show, in this case the FCC proposed the maximum of $27,500 for 18 individual violations within a particular broadcast. Clear Channel Radio president John Hogan had this to say about the matter: "Mr. Stern’s show has created a great liability for us and other broadcasters who air it."
Ah yes, a liability… but for who really? Let’s take a step back and work out just who’s who. Stern, on his Clear Channel stations, finally started going after Bush. Clear Channel Communications of course owns nearly two thousand radio stations nation wide, and is perhaps best known for cutting the Dixie Chicks from its playlists after the Chicks had the temerity to criticize Bush. Similarly, in 2003 Clear Channel stations spent a great deal of time organizing local pro-war rallies to help counter the flood of worldwide protest against the war. And who runs Clear Channel? Why none other than Texan Lowry Mays who is a lifelong republican donor and close Bush family friend.
Now all of this is well known, but what I think is the master stroke is how skillfully Bush’s puppeteers orchestrated Stern’s takedown without embarrassing Clear Channel’s Lowry: they just brought in the FCC. An FCC, by the way, whose chairman is Michael Powell, none other that Colin Powell's little boy.
Here’s how I think it went down…
The time, early February. The place, a washroom somewhere in the bowels of the White House.
Karl Rove: Hey Colin.
Colin Powell: Hey Karl.
K: Boy that whole Janet Jackson titty thing sure hit the fan, huh?
C: Yeah, it was good for a whole week of page one, above the fold.
K: Yup. Say, you know that Stern radio guy?
C: Yeah.
K: Well, lately he’s been shooting his mouth off, saying a lot of shit he shouldn’t be.
C: Oh yeah?
K: Yeah, listen, we’ve got a little job for your son over at the FCC…
C: No problem. Hey! Stop grabbing it so tight, I’ll never be able to finish like that…
All right, I’ll admit I just made up that last line, but I’ll bet anything that the rest of that conversation is pretty close to the real thing.
So anyway, that’s my own little conspiracy theory, offered for your consideration. Go on, take it out for a spin and see how it handles. If you like it, I’ve got plenty more. Hey! Where the hell is my aluminum foil hat?
4/08/04
Pierce This...
As this blog has grown and matured, I’ve found that, among other things, it can be surprisingly therapeutic. In particular, I’ve become rather fond of using it to muse about things that I just don’t understated. Things like string theory, why Ken Lay isn’t in jail, or why my kids can’t for the life of them remember to flush the toilet.
In any case, another in the long list of things I don’t understand is body piercing. I suppose I can see the appeal of an old fashioned earring or tasteful bellybutton ring, (Mmm… bellybuttons. Yum.) but I am truly mystified by people’s compulsion to hang metal from their eyebrows, noses, nipples and assorted genitalia.
I assume that the motivation behind the tame, old fashioned piercing is the need for self expression, probably in much the same way that tattoos are considered art, but the extreme genital stuff obviously has sexual significance. But, if that’s the case, I’m still a little lost, because to me the notion of piercing genitals for sexual purposes is counterproductive. In short, rather than finding them stimulating, they make me giggle.
Anyway, in the interest of bringing this whole bit full circle, today I ran across a piece from the BBC illustrating the last frontier in jewelry: Eyeballs.
No kidding. It seems that if you have about $600, an amazing capacity for personal vanity, and ask nicely, the Institute for Innovative Ocular Surgery in Rotterdam will implant a platinum half-moon or heart in your eye. Now really, despite my blathering on about not understanding things, this eyeball thing is truly inexplicable. Or, just plain yucky. Whichever.
Anyhow, now that I’ve gotten myself all worked up I think I’ll go lie on the couch and watch a little Spongebob. I understand Spongebob.
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Pierce This...
As this blog has grown and matured, I’ve found that, among other things, it can be surprisingly therapeutic. In particular, I’ve become rather fond of using it to muse about things that I just don’t understated. Things like string theory, why Ken Lay isn’t in jail, or why my kids can’t for the life of them remember to flush the toilet.
In any case, another in the long list of things I don’t understand is body piercing. I suppose I can see the appeal of an old fashioned earring or tasteful bellybutton ring, (Mmm… bellybuttons. Yum.) but I am truly mystified by people’s compulsion to hang metal from their eyebrows, noses, nipples and assorted genitalia.
I assume that the motivation behind the tame, old fashioned piercing is the need for self expression, probably in much the same way that tattoos are considered art, but the extreme genital stuff obviously has sexual significance. But, if that’s the case, I’m still a little lost, because to me the notion of piercing genitals for sexual purposes is counterproductive. In short, rather than finding them stimulating, they make me giggle.
Anyway, in the interest of bringing this whole bit full circle, today I ran across a piece from the BBC illustrating the last frontier in jewelry: Eyeballs.
No kidding. It seems that if you have about $600, an amazing capacity for personal vanity, and ask nicely, the Institute for Innovative Ocular Surgery in Rotterdam will implant a platinum half-moon or heart in your eye. Now really, despite my blathering on about not understanding things, this eyeball thing is truly inexplicable. Or, just plain yucky. Whichever.
Anyhow, now that I’ve gotten myself all worked up I think I’ll go lie on the couch and watch a little Spongebob. I understand Spongebob.
