If Gibson and his partner, George Stephanopoulos, had halted their descent at the level of the fatuous, that would have been bad enough. But there was worse to come.

In the seven weeks since the previous Clinton-Obama debate, the death toll of American troops in Iraq had reached four thousand; the President had admitted that his “national-security team,” including the Vice-President, had met regularly in the White House to approve the torture of prisoners; house repossessions topped fifty thousand per month and unemployment topped five per cent; and the poll-measured proportion of Americans who believe that “things have pretty seriously gotten off on the wrong track” hit eighty-one per cent, a record.

Yet for most of the next hour Gibson and Stephanopoulos limited their questioning to the following topics: Obama”s April 6th remark about “bitter” small-towners; whether each candidate thinks the other can win; the Obama family”s ex-pastor, Jeremiah A. Wright, Jr.; Clinton”s tale of sniper fire in Bosnia; Obama”s failure to wear a flag lapel pin; and Obama”s acquaintance with a college professor in his Chicago neighborhood who, while Obama was in grade school, was a member of the Weather Underground. Hendrik Hertzberg

The greatest clutter hazard is the horizontal surface. The two largest surfaces in my apartment — save the floor — are my dining room table and my bed. This morning I cleared them both. I left only a place-mat and a lamp on the table and, after stripping the bed and switching to my spring/summer sheets and pillowcases, placed my zafu and zabuton at the foot of the bed.

The meditation cushion and mat go on the floor when I go to sleep so that they’re in place when I wake up. My morning routine begins with a glass of apple-carrot juice and then a 20-minute sit.

The juice hydrates me and keeps my stomach from rumbling. The sit clears the cobwebs gives my day focus.

New rule: nothing gets placed on either of those two surfaces unless I’m eating or sleeping there.

I’m constantly tossing interesting websites into what I call my blogpile. Some of them find their way here in the form of regular posts, but more often than not they languish and get buried deeper in the pile. The end result is that I have to go back and do a bit of shoveling. Today’s item is Tilling Word and Land.

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog brain bump I present: From My Dad.

0805 Loving Wal-Mart is Cool… Trust Me.

0730 Local writer examines convicted felon John Boyd”s fitness to be Cleveland City Councilman.

Found in my electronic chapbook.

Besides people who are suffering, another not-completely normal class of normal writers is professional creative writers…. Several factors besides skill are more significant in professional writers than in most amateurs. One is love of the surface level of language: the sound of it; the taste of it on the tongue; what it can be made to do in virtuosic passages that exist only for their own sake, like cadenzas in baroque concerti. Writers in love with their tools are not unlike surgeons obsessed with their scalpels, or Artic sled racers who sleep among their dogs even when they don”t have to. Another difference between amateur and professional writers, almost by definition, is that the latter more successfully engage their audience. p. 46

From The Midnight Disease: The Drive to Write, Writer”s Block and the Creative Brain. by Alice W. Flaherty.

I suppose that it is possible for the 10 May constitutional referendum in Myanmar to be fair, but I just don’t hold out a great deal of hope. But as long as people and their leaders are talking about the process and the vote, it means that the spotlight will stay on what the generals are doing and remove any chance of their sham constitution’s acceptance.

From The Mathaba News Network:

Thai Foreign Minister Noppadon and Michael Williams, Special Representative of the British Prime Minister on Friday exchanged views regarding the situation in that country, particularly with regard to the upcoming referendum on the draft constitution and both agreed that the referendum should be legitimate, credible and inclusive to create the political stability and economic prosperity in Myanmar. Continue Reading »

After posting my initial thoughts about uncluttering my life, I went home and took in everything that was my space (pictures to follow) and thought of where to begin. Because I’ve chosen this metaphor of going out from Egypt, I decided to start with my shoes. My shoes, the slip-ons I wear when I’m not in sandals, were in horrible shape; scuffed, salt-stained and muddy from the winter.

I stuffed the shoes with newspaper and then cleaned the leather with warm water, a sponge and soap. I next cleared a space on the floor and did something I haven’t done for more than 20 years; I began to lay down the base coat of polish necessary for a spit shine.

Adhering to one of the basic Zen principles — to do one action at a time; to do that one action slowly and deliberately and to finish that one action completely — I polished my shoes in silence: when I polished my shoes I polished my shoes.

The affect was both meditative and energizing. My world reduced itself to polish, rag, shoe, brush and water. I could hear Mr. Miyagi: wax on, wax off.

When I finished I rewarded myself with fresh flowers. Amongst the chaos there are now two islands of calm and order: my polished shoes and the bright flowers. Neither is permanent. With wear the shoes will need to be polished again; and the flowers will wilt and need replacement.

But I’ve taken two steps on the path.

I’m constantly tossing interesting websites into what I call my blogpile. Some of them find their way here in the form of regular posts, but more often than not they languish and get buried deeper in the pile. The end result is that I have to go back and do a bit of shoveling. Today’s item is A Jules Verne Centennial: 1905-2005.

The New York Times this morning has a report on the expansion of the war in Afghanistan into Pakistan. The Pentagon is urging only minor cross-border excursions, but when I read the story my mind flashed 38 years to President Richard Nixon’s secret war in Laos and Cambodia. He too, was after combatants using safe havens across borders.

American commanders in Afghanistan have in recent months urged a widening of the war that could include American attacks on indigenous Pakistani militants in the tribal areas inside Pakistan, according to United States officials.

The requests have been rebuffed for now, the officials said, after deliberations in Washington among senior Bush administration officials who fear that attacking Pakistani radicals may anger Pakistan”s new government, which is negotiating with the militants, and destabilize an already fragile security situation.

American commanders would prefer that Pakistani forces attack the militants, but Pakistani military operations in the tribal areas have slowed recently to avoid upsetting the negotiations.

That the Pentagon can talk about tribal areas inside Pakistan as somehow different from the sovereign nation of Pakistan is an example of how double-speak creeps into our political discussion. Pakistan is responsible for everything within its borders, tribal or not.

This is just the kind of excuse that results in mission creep and slipping even deeper into the quagmire.

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog brain bump I present: From My Dad.

Found in my electronic chapbook.

Drug-induced hypergraphia is not rare. (For instance, Robert Louis Stevenson”s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was written during a six-day cocaine high during which he generated sixty thousand words.)

From The Midnight Disease: The Drive to Write, Writer”s Block and the Creative Brain. by Alice W. Flaherty.

There’s never anything quite as corrupt as writing your own get-out-of-jail-free card. President Richard Nixon did it when he named Rep. Gerald Ford as his vice president who would, as president after Nixon’s resignation, pardon Nixon. Following that example, the generals have granted themselves amnesty in the sham constitution to be voted on May 10th.

From Mizzima News:

A major flaw that the Burmese military junta’s draft constitution has is a clause that grants amnesty to all military officers for crimes they have committed, a group of Burmese and international lawyers said.

The junta, in Chapter 14 of its draft constitution, provides immunity to all military officials from being tried and prosecuted, which groups including the Burma Lawyers Council, Global Justice Centre and Burma Justice Committee said is totally against international law.

Article 445 of the junta’s draft constitution states that, “No legal action shall be taken against those (either individuals or groups who are members of SLORC and SPDC) who officially carried out their duties according to their responsibilities.” Continue Reading »

I’m constantly tossing interesting websites into what I call my blogpile. Some of them find their way here in the form of regular posts, but more often than not they languish and get buried deeper in the pile. The end result is that I have to go back and do a bit of shoveling. Today’s item is Internet blurs line between amateur and pro writers.

Last Monday I pondered the question with my two classes of 5th graders: how is it possible in the 21st century for a Jew to feel as though they, personally, went out of Egypt? It’s a critical part of the Pesach experience because if the escape from slavery and the beginning of the trek into the desert is only seen as some dusty historical event there is no remembering and no Pesach.

We didn’t come to any conclusions, but the struggle with the question was worth the effort and perhaps one or two of my students will speak up tonight when the leader of their family seder reads: In every generation a person should feel as though he, personally, went out of Egypt.

Yesterday I came to my own realization — not an original one, I’m sure — that in my life the source of my slavery is my possessions. My 600 square-feet apartment, my storage area, my car and my garage space are filled with my possessions.

There is not a horizontal surface in my apartment that is not cluttered. My library has overflown on to my floor and my closets are filling to the level of Fibber McGee-dom. The rising tide — not fueled by global warming — is oppressive. I don’t want to live in my own space. It’s time to pack my bags and get out of Egypt.

Here’s what I’m going to do.

Two pieces of universal advice on making change are: first, do one action at a time; and second, make it publicly known what you intend to do.

People who make long lists of New Year’s resolutions doom themselves to failure because after they look at the list they realize that there’s just too much to do and give up before they’ve begun. And people who keep their goals secret have no stake in failing to meet those goals.

Calendar-wise the Jews are blessed with multiple New Years. There is Rosh Hashanah, the birthday of the World; there is the secular New Year on 1 January; we even have a birthday for trees to celebrate the rising of the sap and the coming of spring.

But Pesach is the most important New Year of all because it is for us only.

This month for you is the head of the months, first for you of the months of the year. (Parshat Bo, Exodus 12:2)

Today I’m going to do take just one action and I’m going to use my blog as a way of letting people know what of the goal I’ve set for myself.

That first action was to write this post. And now I’ve let you all know about it.

I could never bring myself to forward all the email jokes, cartoons and other Internet comedy that land in my inbox. But then I started posting the ones my dad sends me. Judging from my comments and emails, my dad has become one of my greatest blogging assets. So for your morning blog brain bump I present: From My Dad.