Author: jp
“U.S. President George W. Bush answers a question during a press conference at a White House office building, February 17, 2005. Bush on Thursday nominated John Negroponte, the U.S. ambassador to Iraq, as the new director of national intelligence who faces the tough job of improving the quality of intelligence from spy agencies that have been sharply criticized.” (REUTERS/Jim Bourg)
“A Bird in Flight,” from Hand Shadows to Be Thrown upon the Wall, by Henry Bursill
Falling Fuel Tank May Have Caused Iran Blast – TV, Reuters:
A fuel tank falling from an Iranian plane could have caused an explosion in Iran’s Bushehr province, where the country is building a nuclear power plant, Iran state television said on Wednesday.
“A local source said the explosion could have been the result of the falling of an empty fuel tank from an Iranian plane,” Al-Alam said.
New ‘Darko’ Sheds Some Light, the Washington Post:
After a jet engine falls through the roof and into Donnie’s bedroom, things really get weird.
IN NO WAY RELATED: Iran, Syria Team Up to Confront Threats, Associated Press
Iran and Syria, who both are facing pressure from the United States, said Wednesday they will form a united front to confront possible threats against them, state-run television reported.
(With thanks to Dave.)
Time magazine correspondent Matthew Cooper, left, and New York Times reporter Judith Miller, right
Categories
Nation-Building: So Much Cheaper than War
The Associated Press has reported that, quite succinctly, “Bush Wants $82B More for Iraq, Afghan Costs”. That’s a pretty snappy headline, and more or less cuts to the quick on the president’s supplemental budget request that was submitted to Congress yesterday. Because, realistically, when $75 billion of that request is slated to go to the Defense Department, it’s reasonable to summarize the funds as going to cover the costs of our continued War on Terror™. Oh, and also the War in Iraq (nb: if, at this point in time, they are in fact now one and the same, please excuse our ignorance).
Regardless, after deducting the Defense Department’s war costs, that still leaves the administration with a fairly large $7 billion worth of funds to disperse. And how! Let’s take a look at some of the various line item expenses:
– $2.242 billion to counter drugs, pay for security, and support democracy and reconstruction in Afghanistan.
– $60 million for Ukraine, which recently elected Viktor Yushchenko president.
– $660 million for construction of a U.S. embassy in Baghdad.
The lesson? Promoting American-style democracy costs a shitload. It’s almost as though there’s a correlation between our mania for capitalism and our mania for freedom and liberty. Thankfully, I can still buy heroin for cheap, however. Hamid, you’re a grand ol’ motherfucker! Love you!
Continuing:
– $400 million to reward nations that have taken political and economic risks to join the U.S.-led coalitions in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Uh-oh. That whole “coalition of the willing” thing from way back when? At least we know we never bribed them, right? Or had to shell out millions of dollars so we could play host to 32 Macedonian mess-hall workers on our bases in Iraq?
– $950 million to help areas affected by the recent tsunami in the Indian Ocean.
In other words, that “$15 million in tsunami relief” figure that was quoted so long ago was, well, incorrect. It should never have been reported. $950 million. That’s what we meant all along.
Finally, there’s this:
– $200 million in education and border security aid for the Palestinians.
Fuck, we’re so glad Yasser Arafat’s dead!
U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales smiles up at U.S. President George W. Bush during his swearing in ceremony at the Department of Justice, February 14, 2005. (REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque)
You peer out across the rolling vista stretching endlessly away from your frame, your gaze occupied by the gently sloping ups-and-downs of miles upon miles of unfettered grain, sprinkled with two distinct herds of buffalo, and what appears to be a small outcropping of what must be oak trees. Oak trees, yes? The horticulturist concurs. This is the Other Country, he says. The O.C. But what is that over yonder?
It appears to be savagemen on horseback. Reds. Indians. The horticulturist nods again; yes, they are Indians, and that is what they are to be called (as though this were really his specialty; James merely tagged along on your voyage out West to escape the clutches of your sister’s affections, and while you understand this motive, you nonetheless resent his schooling Degree from that University in the Northeast––though not his presence, as his understanding of the numerous families of barley and grain has proven to be quite useful for your campfire dining endeavors of late).
But digression is your latest endeavor, no? The savages, the Indians…they appear to be rapidly approaching your camp. What will become of this, James asks you, and you nod in Daniel’s direction. A thuggish lad by nature, Daniel has proven to be quite…versatile in your travels. And handy with a shotgun, too, though you recklessly traded away far too many shells at that last outpost in Nebraska several nights ago, because you were overloaded with ale and that gentleman who claimed to have traveled all the way from Southern California mistook you for a Betting Fool. And wound up being quite right, it seemed, as the ale had its way with you, and you were suddenly awakened several hours later by a comely red-headed whore’s bottom perched atop your face in an upstairs parlor. Several shells short. Even sturdy Daniel had proven unable to re-acquire them.
How you could use those shells now, you yell at Daniel! O, to fire gracefully upon these savages, and thereby prevent a recurrence of the episode in Missouri Country even earlier, when you found your youngest compatriot scalped mercilessly after he forced his way upon the Red-skinned lass your crew had encountered as you swept across the great Mississippi River. Victor had never been much much of a ladies’ man in Virginia, and after the Depression of 1839, and his loss of steady employ at the stitcher’s place, he asked if he, too, could come with you as you set forth to cross the frontier, and establish a legacy anew in the Western Territories––particularly Southern California, as you heard they were riddled with wide-open ports which served as gateways to the Sea, the open Sea, and you aspired to return to your Father’s once-proud tradition for shipping. You would make your money back, and start life anew. Crates beckoned, they did. ‘Twas destiny, and ’twas manifest.
But these Indians, these savages! They arc across the nearest crest of grain-laden hills, far too close for this to be a pleasant experience. James corrects you, and asserts that they are, in fact, cresting atop what is actually an offshoot of maize, and is therefore not a grain in the literal sense. James can be quite a cretin, and you’ve more than once grown weary of his verbal antics. Most notably, just the other evening in the Kansas Territory, when he kept your entire camp up well past nightfall with his forlorn tales of what he imagined young adulthood must be like out West.
While you enjoyed hearing his fantastic stories of neighborly betrayal, and wanton adolescent lust, which reminded you of your own boyhood, you felt his characters lacked the great depth that only a Serious Novelist could bring to such a tale. And these names he used were quite questionable. You were proud of characters such as Caleb and Luke, who would carry themselves in a good Christian fashion, but Marissa? Seth? Sandy? Were these not the ideals of Jewry embodied in James’ storytelling? His schooling had poisoned his Nature, it seemed.
And Nature is now unkind to you, too, as the savages are upon your camp. It seems these Redskins are of the same bloodline as those Indian females that several of your men had been, well, rather…aggressive with yesterday morning after your morning baths. James had warned your lot about the perils of this sort of sexual and physical recklessness, but the gentlemen had laughed off his concerns as they wantonly had their way with the Red women. And now, it seems, there is, indeed, a price to pay; James, that smug bastard… Oak trees, maize, and immoral sexual congress.
You toss aside your rifle, and the empty, spent shells, and you run. You run, run, run across the fields. You know not where you go, but the West beckons. James’ Other Country, his O.C.…it’s there, a ways across the horizon.
Actually, I’ve never seen The O.C.; I’m sure it’s pretty good.
The O.C. airs Thursdays at 8PM EST on FOX.
Earlier: O.C.-centric entries, embodying the Manifest Destiny inherent in Rupert Murdoch’s modern-day empire.
Categories
The Celesbian Dating Game
Editor’s Note: Since lesbians are way hot (both in the media right now, and, you know, like, in general), low culture asked our special alternative lifestyles correspondent to weigh in. Here now, from our Soho office, Nikki:
The recent coupling of Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi has given rise to many inches of tabloid gossip. (And for one delirious week, before the door slammed shut, everyone and his two mommies were trying to pair up Marcia Cross with another TV star.)
Everyone likes to hear about women getting it on, but it’s also comforting when famous gay people go out with other famous gay people—that’s fewer gays to keep track of! So it was with a sigh of relief that straight people everywhere read that two celesbians were newly nestling in the Hollywood Hills, after dumping what’s-her-name and what’s-her-face. Meanwhile, the Christian Right can point to the degeneracy of the liberal film industry and take heart that soon Scientology will make straight pod people of them all.
(The English, of course, outclass us even in lesbians. Instead of a high-profile stand-up and TV twosome, they have the theater-and-film duo of Fiona Shaw and Saffron Burrows. Cherry Jones has taken note, but none of you care about theater people, so let’s move on.)
In light of this, here’s a fun game you can play alone or with friends: Come up with your own gay celebrity pairings to make things easier for everyone! Strangely enough, there aren’t too many gay famous people, so the permutations are limited. Don’t worry if the stars are in committed relationships and even have children together– at least there won’t be messy papers to file! Extra points for matching haircolor. Send in your answers to Liz Smith, or post them in the comments.
Coming soon: Famous people of color should hook up with other famous people of color.