And here we thought the Rovemeister was pining away in some sub-basement of the White House for his lost glory. Well, it’s all too clear that he’s tan, well rested and ready to rock. The Theo/Neocon right is crawling back out of the bunkers and its target is Senator Barbara Boxer. Rebecca Traister offers a good round up so far.
Yesterday I had to drive down to Richfield, Ohio, to pick up a FedEx package. Because I live in an apartment building with no office and where most of the residents are gone during the day, there was no one around to sign for the package. FedEx left three tags on my mail box and I called on Wednesday to say that I’d just drive down and pick it up.
Ho boy.
Normally when I get a package, it comes UPS and I just drive over to the shipping facility and pick it up. I drive up. Get out of my car. Walk into the desk, tell them who I am and why I’m there and they hand me package. Total time usually no more than five minutes.
FedEx does things differently.
I get to the facility and there are two buildings. I park my car and go up to the first one and walk into the FedEx office where a nice employee asks if she can help me. I hand her my door tag and she tells me that she’s sorry. I need to go over to the other office. No sweat. I get back into my car and drive a couple hundred yards and park again.
This time I enter a security shack with a rent-a-cop in it. He looks me over, asks what I’m there for and when I tell him he asks me who I talked to have my package held. When I tell him the 800-number operator he gives a little huff and tells me that they don’t know anything but he calls the office anyway.
Then I wait. And wait.
Remember, I’m not at a service desk. I’m in the security shack. The service desk — if there is such a thing — is another 100 yards away in the main building.
I continue to wait.
While I’m waiting I’m rereading the signs in the security shack about pat-down searches for customers entering and leaving the facility.
I continue to wait.
Some 20 minutes later a woman crosses the parking lot with a package. She enters the security shack and I sign for the medium sized white envelope.
And then I’m on my way.
I was annoyed with the Fort Knox-like security, but my experience was nothing like this poor sod’s.
1SG Troy Steward: The other day we had a mission to Kabul and our Task Force HQ, a short mission that would only have us from our home FOB for a few days. We had to take a lot of guys up there to drop them off for leave and pass, and take care of some administrative business while we were there. We have done this mission many times, and except for the snow that…
Part of being a good citizen of the blogosphere is visiting, reading and, most importantly, taking the time to leave a comment on other’s blogs. It’s all about the conversation. In the interest of setting an example I’ve decided to link to those blog posts that have compelled me to leave a comment.
0653 i have this intention
0652 army babe; can we say “hypocrisy”
0739 God taught me to hate…
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 chuckle I present: From My Dad.
It’s Saturday and your condom of the week is brought to you by Bounty!
[Update –1301 — Because this story is quickly becoming a Rovianesque talking point, I think it’s important to understand exactly what was said:
“Who pays the price [in Iraq]? I’m not going to pay a personal price. My kids are too old and my grandchild is too young. You’re not going to pay a particular price, as I understand it, with an immediate family. So who pays the price? The American military and their families. And I just want to bring us back to that fact.”
It seems the Secretary of State doth protest too much.]
Senator Barbara Boxer owes Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice no apology for remarks exchanged yesterday for a simple reason: the comment was gender neutral and, in a war being fought predominantly by the poor, appropriate. Boxer could have put the question to any number of privileged members of the Bush White House.
I have no doubt that if there had been a universal draft in place on 20 March 2003, the Iraq War would have been a very different adventure. And perhaps one that would have never happened at all.
Andrew Sullivan and I disagree on this one. There are times when the President must knowingly make decisions that send other men and women to their deaths. That is the nature of the office.
Yet we must expect our leaders to be humans; to understand their own humanity and the gravity of their actions.
Sacrifice must be shared, not delegated.
My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.
This is a passage I copied from Traveling Mercies, Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott.
“It cost me a great deal to regain my footing. Now I am free to become who I truly am.” Attributed to Carl Jung. p. 71.
If I die, please remember that there was a human being named Jumah at Guantanamo whose beliefs, dignity and humanity were abused. Please remember that there are hundreds of detainees at Guantanamo suffering the same misfortune. They have not been charged with any crimes. They have not been accused of taking any action against the United States.
Rob: It was my downtime, so I was in the palace using the computer when the Sergeant Major came storming out of the TOC and approached me. “Brian”s shot. They got hit on exfill,” he said in a nervous and worried tone. “They”re on their way back right now with the QRF.” “Fuck,” was all I could think as I quickly grabbed my vest and sidearm. I found my boss and told…
I know people who buy special insurance when they travel just so they can be airlifted to a hospital in the United States in case something goes wrong. God only knows what would happen in a hospital in a backward country like Thailand known for its sex industry, SCUBA diving and ecotourism. Shamash lets us see.
Is there any other form of creativity like writing? No. Seriously. In every other form of creativity that I can think of the medium — paint, dance, sculputure, innovation — is the message. It’s upfront. It’s in your face. But words are different. Aren’t they? Writing is easy, said Red Smith, you just sit down at the typewriter, open up a vein, and bleed it out…
…drop by drop.
No wonder it’s so scary. Word of Mouth’s Kelly Boyer Sagert takes a few passes at the subject.
A favorite poet blogs about two very different life moments and calls upon a favorite writer for insight. In the first case, it’s a cat’s senility. In the second case it’s the banality of Britney Spear’s crotch. Sherry’s use of Atwood’s words in both cases are spot on. (And mazel tov! Sherry, on your niece’s election to the 15th Judicial District.)
With all the talk about the first 100 hours, expectations are running high for the Democratically controlled Congress, but as Robert Reich points out this week, it’s always the fine print that stabs you in the back. One of the big items up is scratching a prohibition on Medicare negotiating with Big Pharma and the Dems are caving already.
House Democrats are pushing a bill to require Medicare to negotiate drug prices. So far, so good. But in what appears to be a bow to the political clout of Big Pharma, the bill does not authorize Medicare to drop from its approved list drugs on which manufacturers fail to offer good deals. This is like Wal-Mart telling its suppliers “we”re going to use our bargaining clout to get from you the lowest prices for our customers – but regardless of what price you offer we”ll still carry your product in our stores.” What kind of incentive is that?
Not much, as Reich goes on to thouroughly fisk the bill.
I confess that I’ve been putting off reading President Jimmy Carter’s most recent book — Palestine: Peace Not Apartheid — because life has been, well, life of late. But it is plainly obvious that I need to read the book as soon as possible. While Carter is a personal hero of mine, my intent will be to come to the book with as clear a mind as possible.
Given these, and other, stories in the news over the last few days, that is going to be difficult.
But then everything worth doing in life is difficult.
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 chuckle I present: From My Dad.
A woman in a hot air balloon realized she was lost. She lowered her altitude and spotted a man in a boat below. She shouted to him, “Excuse me,can you help me? I promised a friend I would meet him an hour ago, but I don’t know where I am.”
The man consulted his portable GPS and replied,”You’re in a hot air balloon, approximately 30 feet above a ground elevation of 2346 feet above sea level. You are at 31 degrees, 14.97 minutes north latitude and 100 degrees, 49.09 minutes west longitude.
She rolled her eyes and said, “You must be a Republican.” “I am,”replied the man. “How did you know?” “Well,” answered the balloonist, “everything you told me is technically correct, but I have no idea what to do with your information, and I’m still lost. Frankly, you’ve not been much help to me.”
The man smiled and responded, “You must be a Democrat.”
“I am,” replied the balloonist. “How did you know?”
“Well,” said the man, “you don’t know where you are or where you’re going. You’ve risen to where you are, due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a promise that you have no idea how to keep, and you expect me to solve your problem. You’re in exactly the same position you were in before we met, but, somehow, now it’s my fault.”
My name is Jeff Hess and I’m a biblioholic. I own hundreds of books. Not valuable books, mostly Science Fiction paperbacks and text books, tomes rescued by the bag from library book sales. A few years ago, in the interest of not burying myself, I began reading more books from the library and taking notes. My electronic chapbook was born.
This is a passage I copied from Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis by President Jimmy Carter.
I have cherished a plaque that a cabinet member gave me the day I left office, with a quote from Thomas Jefferson: I have the consolation to reflect that during the period of my administration not a drop of the blood of a single citizen was shed by the sword of war. p. 149.
George at Brewed Fresh Daily posted this earlier this week and I agree with him, it’s a good card (although I’m not sure why it’s such a secret). I liked it even more after I read Seth Godin’s list of 10 ways to be remarkable in The Guardian. Godin is right, being average just won’t do. And if you want to be remarkable, you have to start now.
You’re either boring or you stand out. You’re either invisible or remarkable. And, all your life, everyone has been pushing you to fit in. All your life you’re told to keep your head down, work hard, don’t make waves and get it done. What rubbish. Here, in 10 easy steps, is how to grow. How to stand out. How to get noticed, make a difference and have a shot at the big time.
My favorite?
No. 5… Remarkability lies in the edges. The biggest, fastest, slowest, richest, easiest, most difficult. It doesn’t always matter which edge, more that you’re at (or beyond) the edge.
It’s been a while since I really went to the edge. I’m changing that. And I know just where I want to start.
Godin concludes:
When should you start being remarkable? How’s this: if you don’t start tomorrow, you’re not really serious. Tomorrow night by midnight or don’t bother.
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