Take a day off, get more hits.

I was so busy working on promoting the Music Hates You record, yesterday, that I wasn’t able to post anything here.

And then John from AmericaBlog posts a link to my tutorial on how to use GPG for MacMail and suddenly I have more hits than I have had all year.

Thanks, John!

It’s a fucking disaster

You betcha, Deb!

via Atrios:

It just happens that former Pioneer Press editor Deborah Howell, now the Post’s ombudsman, was in our newsroom today for a Q&A session on journalism topics. I asked her about the Domenech affair.

Her reply: “I can’t defend it. It’s a f****in’ disaster.”

I have to say, I have really enjoyed watching Little Benny Deadeyes take his beating. Smug little fucker that he was, he sure got his ass handed to him.

I think everyone I know had some sort of life-changing and painful experience in their early 20s. I don’t even want to go into the details of mine, here…. at least, not today. My twin brother’s best friend died then. There’s a moment, I think, where we outlive the promise our parents made to us that we were “different” and “special.” I remember when that realization came crashing down for me. It made me a better person.

I like to think that Little Ben is having that moment right now. Now it’s time for him to Be All That He Can Be, right?

Shakespeare’s Sister noticed before I did

But it appears the New York Times finally noticed the Downing Street Memos.

So the New York Times is running a big story headlined Bush Was Set on Path to War, Memo by British Adviser Says, as if it’s news. The only real news here is that they’re treating it like it’s news. As it happens, The Guardian covered the story in February, as did a whole lot of bloggers, many of whom had been covering a little thing known as The Downing Street Memos for, ahem, quite some time. Suffice it to say, the reaction to the Times’ piece is a bit, uh, jaded in some quarters.

Well, add me to that list. Here is a list of alternative titles SSis could have used for that post:

“Dawn Breaks on Marblehead!”

“NY Times:I Guess If That Dog’s Not Gonna Bite, We Should All Kick It…”

“Hello? Lefty Blogosphere? You Were Right… We were schmucks. Don’t Hate Us, ‘k?”

“Vast Left-Wing Conspiracy DONE with Beating Up WaPo… Times Throws Up Hands in Pre-emptive Surrender”

I think it would feel better to be right if the whole thing wasn’t such a disaster over there.

ALL my new friends are badasses

I am getting traffic from some new places since I wrote this entry some weeks ago.

Comments have come from darkdaughta (caution, you who are easily offended by boobies- there’s one at that link.) and belledame, both feminists (of the radical stripe?) and both excellent writers.

What interesting comrades the Anti-Sex/Anti-Woman Brigade is making us into! Take Darkdaughta, a self-described “dark skinned, matriarchal, polyamorous, working-class, fat, tall, rogue scholar happily living in exile… ancestor/universe/ goddess worshipping, kinky, queer femme, writer/poet…” and, uh, me…. late-thirties redneck-ish white guy who grows his own collard greens, hunts and works on his old Dodge in his spare time.

I couldn’t be happier about this… unless everyone came to visit and we had a big hoedown… then I’d be fit to bust.

¡vive le difference!

A bouncing baby quagmire

Three years on, and I am going to send an email to Glenn Reynolds, today.

And this is what it’s going to say:

April 11, 2003:

Yeah, there has been a lot of pro-war gloating. And I guess that Dawn Olsen’s cautionary advice about gloating is appropriate. So maybe we shouldn’t rub in just how wrong, and morally corrupt the antiwar case was. Maybe we should rise above the temptation to point out that claims of a “quagmire” were wrong — again! — how efforts at moral equivalence were obscenely wrong — again! — how the antiwar folks are still, far too often, trying to move the goalposts rather than admit their error — again — and how an awful lot of the very same people who spoke lugubriously about “civilian casualties” now seem almost disappointed that there weren’t more — again — and how many people who spoke darkly about the Arab Street and citizens rising up against American “liberators” were proven wrong — again — as the liberators were seen as just that by the people they were liberating. And I suppose we shouldn’t stress so much that the antiwar folks were really just defending the interests of French oil companies and Russian arms-deal creditors. It’s probably a bad idea to keep rubbing that point in over and over again.

posted at 04:36 PM by Glenn Reynolds

hat tip to Atrios and Tom Tomorrow for the catch.

Hey, we can all play.

OK, this is no joke

@mber’s father has had a stroke, and though it looks like he’s going to be ok, they could sure use a little help. He is one of the 43 million of us that don’t have health insurance.

You can find out more details and how to help here.

Must be nice

To live in a world where you’re always right. Even when you’re completely wrong.

I have a little story to tell, although it still pains me to even think about it. (I think this is what’s called “Confessional Blogging.”)

When I was nineteen years old, I took an internship on Capitol Hill. I went to work for the Democratic Representative from my district, but I ended up doing a lot of work for John Lewis, since the guy for whom I went to work turned out to be a Dixiecrat nestled deep into the pockets of Northrup and Grumman and a half dozen other arms dealers. Besides being slimy, he was kind of dull to work for.

So, here I am, this 19 year old idealistic kid from Columbus, GA. I had some good ideas in my head, and some bad ideas in my head. I was not the upper-middle to upper-class child of privilege that Dani (America’s Top Racist, or whatever she’s trying to be, in the clip referenced above…) appears to be, since I had gone to fully integrated public schools, my mother had been an activist with the Urban League and I had played music in all sorts of bands when I was a teenager. However, I still had some persistent misconceptions about what it means to be Black in America, and I was headed for a collision with one member of Congressman Lewis’ staff.

*sigh* I hate to even tell this story.

Moving along.

So, we’re stuffing envelopes, one night, late. Me and John (my roommate, not the Congressman) and the Congressman’s Legislative Assistant. (I just called Lewis’ office to try and see if anyone could remember his name, and everyone was like “Wow, 20 years ago? Mmmmm…. nope.”)

When I got to DC, I almost immediately fell into a musical situation playing in a Blues band. As the only white player in that band, I felt pretty privileged and special to having that experience. So, I yapped about it at the drop of a hat.

So, here we are stuffing envelopes and I am yapping about playing with this blues band, so I turn to the Congressman’s LA and I say “Do you like blues or jazz?”

And he says “What do you mean?” He instantly sensed the assumption behind my question, which was “Well, you’re black- surely you like one or the other…” which was really, really naive and stupid of me. These are the preconceptions one carries away from Columbus, Georgia, I guess.

Not sensing what an ass I was being, I persisted “Well, do you like blues? or jazz?”

And he, sensing an opportunity to impart a life lesson, said “What makes you think I like either one?”

And I wasn’t about to say “Well, you’re black….and black people like Negro music, right?” but that WAS the implicit assumption in my question. I struggled to think of some OTHER way of saying “Well, you’re black…” and muttered some inanity just as it began to dawn on me that I was being presumptuous and that I was perhaps operating under some assumptions that might be kind of idiotic.

God, thinking back on it now, I can’t imagine what an idiot I must looked like. Of course, the full implication of it didn’t really dawn on me until some years later, but even at the moment, I realized I was out on some thin ice. I can only hope that dear Dani has some sort of moment of reflection at some point and realizes that the assumptions that she’s making may not be informed by anything other than her racism.

We live in hope.

Chummy chum-chums…

When they hold you so close, it’s not because they love you. It’s so you don’t get out of hand

Still the dinner went on. And official Washington arrived, often unescorted. Men in white tie and tails. Some in boots. Women in comfortable shoes. Safe dresses with a touch of glitter, very little skin. There was Madeleine Albright in black sequins, unescorted. There was Rep. Steny Hoyer alone in his tails. And Mayor Anthony Williams with no wife and no mother.

There was Sen. George Allen in tails and black cowboy boots.

For 121 years, the dinner has been for Washington pols and press “a place for them to relax and tell stories,” said Gridiron President John Hall, an affair where people could let their hair down and crack a few jokes without having to pay for it politically.

Ever wonder why everyone kind of loves to hate the blogosphere? It’s because there are too many of us to invite to this thing. I am not saying that I am too good to be bought. It’s that you put me and my twin and the rest of the crew at Shakespeare’s Sister in tuxes, you’re gonna need a dumptruck full of cocktail weenies to feed us enough to make us pliant.