Archive for May, 2008

In reading Blue Girl’s post about dealing with anger/fear/Calista Flockhart-nots, I was reminded of something that happened yesterday while Patton and I were shopping at Target. But I feel as though I should preface this story with a bit of clarification: I hate that store.

I’m a typical guy shopper. I go in, pick up what I need, and I leave. Point A to Point B to Point C. Simple and uninterrupted. Unfortunately something about the design of that particular store tends to get people to check their common sense at the door, and often their sense of common courtesy. I, of course being completely immune to this, am often vocal in my frustrations with my fellow man and yesterday was a perfect example.

We came for chocolate milk. Patton has taken to a particular brand that she mixes with her coffee. (Poor Man’s Mocha.) As we briskly made our way to the back refrigerated aisle — no sense stopping to check sales…that delays our arrival to Point B — there was another couple there shopping for their own dairy products and they had parked their cart directly in front of the door that marked Point B’s objective. My wife, who is normally less tolerant that I am, asked politely twice for the guy to please move a second. It was clear enough to the heard that the wife started to move the cart, but the guy, laden down with various butters and cheeses, did not move at all, preferring to stretch to deposit the items in the cart and seemed oblivious to the fact that someone was politely asking him to move and his wife was making it clearer for him. My wife gave me a knowing smirk as the guy eventually moved and I made it clear.

“Wow. He’s totally oblivious, isn’t he?”

It was at that point that I realized how far I’ve come in my life from being a quiet person who minds his own business to the cranky old bastard who sits on his front porch and screams at the neighbor kids for walking on his lawn. What surprised me even more was how little regret I felt in letting that guy know he pissed me off. That’s very unlike me…or at least I thought it was.

In thinking about it, I think seven years of living in Dubya’s America have made me bitter and cranky in ways that I never thought possible. I blame Dubya because he’s the figurehead of a movement of current neoconservatism that has wrought levels of incivility not felt in this country since the Civil War. Say what you will about “the evil liberal media” or “the gay agenda”; it’s conservatism, and more recently neoconservatism, that is directly responsible for those mischaracterizing and inflammatory statements. And I’m the end result of a liberal who is, quite frankly, fucking tired of the games. I’m tired of undecided voters. I’m tired of warmongering Iran-haters. I’m tired of the mortgage crisis and hearing about the fantastic deals that one can find in bankruptcy auctions. I’m tired of the mousy me-monkeys at the grocery store who won’t get the fuck out of my way so I can get my chocolate milk and be on my way.

I realize how silly this may sound, and that’s why I’m trying to make light of it. I’m losing my smirk to overwhelming cynicism lately and it’s a spiral I can’t seem to pull out of. If anything, I think I’m aiming for the crowd.

So to the guy at the grocery store, I’m sorry I was an ass. You’re just the latest victim in my ever-growing pessimism of the world around me.

Long-time readers of this blog probably are well aware of how little I thought of ex-White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan. The man perfected the art of dodging questions so poorly that his appearance in hilariously unedited clips of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart became almost a nightly happenstance. In fact, he even appeared on TDS a while ago and didn’t seem to be in any way apologetic about his role as goalie of unwanted inquiries in the White House Press Room. In that job he was actually quite good in that frustrated reporters looked very much like the dejected Pittsburgh Penguins forwards against Osgood in the first two games of the Stanley Cup finals. His ability to offer nonanswers is almost unparalleled in US Presidential history. I nicknamed him “Scootie” because he could scoot around any question with surprisingly little effort. He was also quite good at lying, hence his last name becoming “McLiar”.

Well Scootie has a new book out. Thumb tersely set upon the pulse of the nation, or possibly the world, he’s written a book which is highly critical of the Bush administration. In fact, upon the first glances offered by El WaPo, it would seem that Scootie is now confirming each and every criticism that he used to defend and deflect.

Former White House press secretary Scott McClellan writes in a new memoir that the Iraq war was sold to the American people with a sophisticated “political propaganda campaign” led by President Bush and aimed at “manipulating sources of public opinion” and “downplaying the major reason for going to war.”

McClellan includes the charges in a 341-page book, “What Happened: Inside the Bush White House and Washington’s Culture of Deception,” that delivers a harsh look at the White House and the man he served for close to a decade. He describes Bush as demonstrating a “lack of inquisitiveness,” says the White House operated in “permanent campaign” mode, and admits to having been deceived by some in the president’s inner circle about the leak of a CIA operative’s name.

The book, coming from a man who was a tight-lipped defender of administration aides and policy, is certain to give fuel to critics of the administration, and McClellan has harsh words for many of his past colleagues. He accuses former White House adviser Karl Rove of misleading him about his role in the CIA case. He describes Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice as being deft at deflecting blame, and he calls Vice President Cheney “the magic man” who steered policy behind the scenes while leaving no fingerprints.

McClellan stops short of saying that Bush purposely lied about his reasons for invading Iraq, writing that he and his subordinates were not “employing out-and-out deception” to make their case for war in 2002.

But in a chapter titled “Selling the War,” he alleges that the administration repeatedly shaded the truth and that Bush “managed the crisis in a way that almost guaranteed that the use of force would become the only feasible option.”

“Over that summer of 2002,” he writes, “top Bush aides had outlined a strategy for carefully orchestrating the coming campaign to aggressively sell the war. . . . In the permanent campaign era, it was all about manipulating sources of public opinion to the president’s advantage.”

McClellan, once a staunch defender of the war from the podium, comes to a stark conclusion, writing, “What I do know is that war should only be waged when necessary, and the Iraq war was not necessary.”

Oh, to be Dana Perino today and have to answer questions about this…

As much as I’d love to jump on the bandwagon and hail the latest breakthrough of reality on a former Bushie, one must remember that Scootie has bills to pay, too. This book is no doubt written with only a greenback-laced incentive. Once a McLiar, always a McLiar. Besides, here’s what the very same man said about another former Bush Administration official who left, Richard Clarke:

MR. McCLELLAN: Well, why, all of a sudden, if he had all these grave concerns, did he [Richard Clarke] not raise these sooner? This is one-and-a-half years after he left the administration. And now, all of a sudden, he’s raising these grave concerns that he claims he had. And I think you have to look at some of the facts. One, he is bringing this up in the heat of a presidential campaign. He has written a book and he certainly wants to go out there and promote that book.

Well, aside from the fact that Clarke did raise these concerns sooner, and only Clinton’s Administration was willing to listen to them by the way, it would appear to me that you are in an identical situation Scootie. Enjoy your booksales, Captain Hypocrite.

A friend of mine invited me over this weekend for beer and socializing. Since I’ve been sick for a fucking week now (but finally getting over it) I replied that I’d better stay home. In fact it looked like my son was getting this crap so I’d no doubt have to contend with that all weekend.

The response was, by far, the most legendary out-of-office automated replies I’ve ever received. So I decided to share it with you because I peed myself laughing. Without further ado…

Well well well, what do you know, it’s the start of a long weekend and I’m not in the office – don’t act so surprised. In fact, I’m surprised you are trying to get in touch with me and aren’t in a windowless bar enjoying buffalo wings and a beer (not that fizzy yellow crap, mind you!).

At any rate, I’m not in the office and I will not be checking emails. You see, I’ll be in a windowless bar eating Buffalo Wings and swilling down a beer. Or maybe I’ll be on my patio grilling up some Beer Can Chicken, enjoying the fact that I won’t be replying to your email.

It’s not much of a consolation, but if you need immediate assistance, please contact my supervisor, Kim @ ; she may or may not be able to help you. At the very least she’ll listen to you complain about how I’m not in the office on the Friday of a long weekend.

Now – get outside and enjoy the weekend!!!*

Thanks!!!!!
Justin

(*unless it’s storming out and there are tornadoes coming, then get in the basement. If you don’t have a basement, like my wife and I, then you should do what we do – stand in the window and keep an eye out for that tornado cause you’re gonna wanna see it before it swallows you up into Oz!!!!)

Have a great Memorial Day weekend folks.

Forgot to mention this earlier…

Ever heard of XKCD comics? If not, do yourself a favor and check them out. But the beautiful thing (that I just learned) is that the guy actually made his own ball pit. And now I love him that much more.

My friend Justin and I went to see Dream Theater and Opeth the other night. This marks, I think, the fourth time I’ve seen Dream Theater live. It also marks the first time I’ve ever been to Myth. But I’ll come back to that.

Dream Theater is a band that tends to attract a rather exclusive group of fans. I used to think it was all metal musicians or ex-musicians but that isn’t quite right. It is, without question, some of the most complicated music one can hear from a genre of music that is normally equated with sex, drugs and on-stage, alcoholic stupors. Musically, their material is on par with Rachmaninoff. And that music has attracted a rather different, albeit ardently loyal, fanbase. And when I go to see them, I’m always finding myself fascinated by the collected rabble that have assembled in front of the stage. It’s not the crowd of my youth, full of studded leather and long biker hairdos, but rather a group of people one could easily find at some company picnic or something. It’s really bizarre. It’s also about 85% male, or a “sausage fest” as another friend of mine once referred to it. The 15% female population, by the way, can be put into two groups: one, the girls who are there because they wanted to come with their boyfriend and have absolutely no idea of what is going on, or two, the “rock chick” as Rollins once referred to them — scary and/or touchable only with a cattle prod, in my opinion.

Dream Theater appeared to me to be completely relaxed on stage and put on a very tight show. I enjoyed this more than any of the other times I’ve seen them, where they sometimes seemed rushed and too involved in the details. This show seemed to come very naturally to them.

Opeth is a band that I had never seen live and only listened to very briefly. Their singer, who is amazingly charismatic on-stage in a British kind of way, at one point thanking us for “our hospitality” in a tenor and timber that suggested a gentle or high-class upbringing, employs the death metal growl for a good portion of their lyrics. I don’t much care for that style and found his singing voice much more appropriate. However, their stage show was non-existent. With the odd exception of the keyboard player, the band barely moved on stage. The drummer reminded me of the Irish folk dancers who are careful to appear not to move above the waist while dancing. But I don’t mean to be overly critical; they were a good band and, if you’re into the whole death metal sound, are a refreshing melodic departure from the usual droning tripe that’s out there.

Myth is an interesting venue that reminds me of the place I played when I was just starting out, The Mirage. It’s basically a giant bar with an enormous open area for people to stand and watch a band. Acoustically it’s a goddamned nightmare. But when you’re building a place like this I don’t think you have the subtleties of Brahms or Beethoven in mind so much as the Maplewood fire code and the plausibility of having readily available alcohol for the clientèle. I don’t know if I’ll go there by choice ever again. Maybe I’m just getting too old but upon entering the place I felt like I traveled back in time to my high school days where metal and drinking were my prime focus.

Speaking of going back in time, a band that I listened to from that time period just released a new disk: Testament. The CD is called “The Formation of Damnation” but it might as well be called “Take Nicho Back to the 1992 Dark Side” because they haven’t changed a bit and I couldn’t be happier. It’s the first disk since Alex Skolnick left the band in 1992 that the band has reunited to record with him and the results have been playing in my WinAmp ever since. All of the sudden I’m 18 again and feeling and Chuck Billy-induced sense of righteous indignation towards the civilized world. It’s a good feeling. You should try it on and see if you like it.

Aside from that I’m just sitting here working, playing in forums, and carefully ignoring the Democratic Primaries until Hillary drops out. How are you?