Cogitamus ergo ridemus: Michael Steele writes to us

Oh dear.

I was sorting through a pile of Monday mail a little while ago, and right in the middle of it, wedged sideways between the bills and an office supply catalog, was a chunky envelope from the Republican National Committee.

That Robert, he's such a kidder. My Republican husband had thoughtfully opened it for me, too, knowing how susceptible my tender fingers are to paper cuts (more likely, he didn't want to let me have all the laughs first).

Inside, I found a pre-paid envelope, a long letter, and a questionnaire entitled Obama Agenda Survey, with the words *DO NOT DESTROY*--printed just like that, with asterisks--repeated no fewer than five times in a row across the top of the page. Before the first question was even asked. Oh dear.

Okay, okay, I thought. You do seem inordinately troubled, Mr. Steele, so I'll give you a couple of minutes of my time.

I set the plea for mercy plea for money single-page questionnaire aside for a moment and turned my attention to the four-page (!) cover letter that addressed us by our surname followed by the word "household" (hmmm...could the Republicans be warming to the idea that numerous households might not contain both a Mr. and a Mrs.? Nah.)

As Chairman of the Republican National Committee, I am sending out this questionnaire to gauge where you and other grassroots Republicans stand on the critical issues facing our nation--I need to hear back from you right away.

You know that the liberal media elites and the Obama-Democrats are hoping you will put this letter down right now and do nothing...

...they want you to give up, desert your Party and walk away from your conservative principles.

I'm asking you to please not turn your back on us now.

I want you to know that the Republican Party is not dead and we are not going away.

Oh DEAR.

"Robert! The Undead are closing in on us!" I shouted, wiping the tears from my eyes. "Quick, darling--turn off the brain-shaped beacon before it's too late."

The pleas went on for four--count 'em, four--pages.

[Please, please, please, etc.]...you and every one of the many who didn't vote for Barack Obama (WRONG)...Democrat allies in Congress...please, no matter what, do not discard or destroy your Survey. (Aside: will someone please explain capitalization rules to Michael Steele?)

Turn the page over, please.

Okay.

...be as exact as possible, you must return your survey--Even if you leave some of the questions blank.

We're still a big tent! Even illiterates are welcome! It's the il-LEGALS we don't like!

There is so much about the Obama Agenda that most Americans do not know about...

Because most Americans have no electricity and can't read?

...thanks to the non-stop, swooning coverage of the ultra-biased media.

But with your help, we are going to expose the Obama Agenda for all Americans to see so that we create a groundswell of opposition.

"Robert! After you turn off the brain-shaped beacon, get ready for some more teabagging, darling."

Well, that got his attention. Sort of.

"For fuck's sake, do they really think small business owners have time for this kind of bullshit, especially right now?" Robert said, kicking off his work-boots and squeezing honey into his tea while simultaneously turning on The Ed Show. "Oh good, I like this guy."

"No, seriously, darling--listen. They keep saying please: please fill in the survey; please don't destroy it, whatever you do; please send us money, oh, and don't forget, please be aware that the Democrat party wants to force everyone to pay higher taxes so they can make our kids go to re-education camps or something. We really ought to send this in."

(I paused and considered anointing the questionnaire with a selection of truly dreadful, truly naughty, truly litbritish sentences--really long, compound ones, too, so as to confuse them thoroughly and cause unrest--but decided I'd rather spend the time folding laundry.)

Instead, I read some of Steele's finer servings of, er, bullshit, aloud:

...we are asking where you stand on Barack Obama's promise to raise taxes...

...On his plans to give amnesty to illegal immigrants, which could lead to billions of dollars of government handouts and possibly bankrupt Social Security...

...And how do you feel about Obama's efforts to nationalize health care and have it run by bureaucrats in Washington, D.C.?

"As opposed to unregulated bureaucrats in Big Insurance who refuse coverage, deny sick people's legitimate claims, and cancel policies altogether--in the name of profit?" I fumed. If, instead of being the ladylike person who is me, I was a guy--make that an excitable, ah, forceful kind of guy like, say, Tony Soprano--this is the point at which I'd have stood up and spat on the ground. But while I am (perhaps) a little on the excitable side, I am neither Tony Soprano nor Michelle Malkin and am thus not usually given to spitting. Besides, we were sitting at the kitchen table enjoying the perfectly nice pot of tea with which--mirabile dictu--I'd actually managed to not scald myself.

I skipped over the countless appeals to resist destroying the survey--and the even greater number of pleas for money, helpfully repeated (with suggested dollar amounts!) yet again in the postscript--and read the closing paragraph:

The future of the Republican Party is in your hands. Act now.

...Said Mark Foley to the congressional page. (Thank you, I'll be here all week, etc.)

Now, all this would be funnier by orders of magnitude if there weren't plenty of people out there--some of whom Robert and I know personally, alas--who are stupid bigoted naïve enough to believe Michael Steele's weaselly distortions and baldfaced lies about President Obama raising taxes, scheming to bankrupt Social Security--which in reality was something George W. Bush seemed hell-bent on doing; how quickly they forget!--and the Evil Librul Media being so, you know, Evil and Librul and all. I mean, never mind the interviews, breathless and multitudinous, with Dick "How to Shoot Friends and Interrogate People" Cheney to which we've been treated on a regular basis since Obama's inauguration; never mind the countless affronts-to-journalistic-ethics-made-flesh like Bill Kristol or even Morning Joe stooge Willie Geist, who is routinely allowed to get away with making utterly fact-free, uncorroborated (and by design, unverifiable) comments like this morning's gem: "I was talking to someone this weekend, and he said he thinks Dick Cheney is sincere and really worries about the nation getting attacked under Obama". Mmm-hmm. "Someone" said it, so hey, it must be true, and while we're at it, let's just get that statement out there again about the nation possibly getting attacked. How disgusting. Shame on your sorry ass, Willie.

Anyway, since Michael Steele did ask nicely, and often, I won't destroy the survey, which, after the four pages of begging excerpted herein, seemed kind of sad and anticlimactic, really--just a sheet of paper stamped with poorly-written lies, damned lies, and hilariously biased framing. But I'm open to suggestions as to what to do with it.

Thoughts?

Also at Cogitamus.

Mothers' Day

To my Mum Christine and Mother-in-law Rita on Mothers' Day,
with much love from the firstborns and their thrice-born.

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

-- Sylvia Plath

Friday Saturday Frank: I am the Slime; SNL, 1976

As ever, Maestro Zappa was ahead of just about everyone, calling attention to the mind-control aspects of the dread Teevee. (However, the irony of FZ decrying television while appearing on television is not completely lost on your caffeine-deficient hostess, thankyouverymuch.)

Bon Weekend, everyone!

I am gross and perverted;
I’m obsessed and deranged.
I've existed for years,
But very little has changed.
I'm the tool of the government
And industry too--
For I am destined to rule
And regulate you.

I may be vile and pernicious,
But you can’t look away;
I make you think I’m delicious
With the stuff that I say.
I am the best you can get;
Have you guessed me yet?
I am the slime oozin’ out
From your tv set!

You will obey me while I lead you,
And eat the garbage that I feed you
Until the day that we don’t need you;
Don’t go for help...no one will heed you.
Your mind is totally controlled--
It has been stuffed into my mold,
And you will do as you are told
Until the rights to you are sold.

That’s right, folks..
Don’t touch that dial!

Well, I am the slime from your video
Oozin’ along on your living room floor.

I am the slime from your video;
Can’t stop the slime, people, look at me go.

Also at Cogitamus.

Today in exquisite metaphors: In libertatem vindicavit

The Statue of Liberty was a generous gift to America from France in 1886, and she honors the friendship and alliance the two countries forged during the American Revolution. She has long represented freedom and democracy; indeed, her features and dress were inspired by the Roman goddess Libertas.

After the attacks on September 11th, 2001, however, the Statue of Liberty was closed completely, and the world-famous icon was off-limits to visitors until August, 2004; even then, her enormous walk-in crown--a feat of engineering and sculpture that offered, arguably, one of the nation's most beautiful and inspiring views from a man-made structure--remained closed.

But on July 4th, 2009, the crown of the Statue of Liberty will be at last be re-opened to the public, as U.S. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar announced today.

I was never fortunate enough to climb that narrow staircase leading to the crown and experience that famous view myself, but I have certainly admired and photographed the beautiful statue from many vantage points during countless visits to New York City. The most heartbreakingly lovely of these visual memories--and also my first sight of the Statue of Liberty--dates back to the summer of 1980, when my friend Effie and I treated ourselves to Champagne and coconut shrimp with orange sauce in the surreal and elegant Windows on the World restaurant, located on the 106th and 107th floors of the World Trade Center's North Tower. It wasn't a busy day, and we'd been given a table right at the edge of the room, affording us a gorgeous view of the city and harbor below. While we waited for our lunch, we gazed through the great oblongs of plate glass, noting how far below us the wispy clouds and buzzing helicopters were. The sun came out, and then, to our delight, we saw her: Lady Liberty.

Even then, even at that distance, Lady Liberty evoked an emotional response from Effie (daughter of Greek immigrants) and Yours Truly, a British immigrant celebrating her seventh American summer. And the two UF co-eds who'd been trying very hard to remain cool and aloof while walking around the city were now drying their tears on massive white linen napkins and laughing at themselves for getting so mushy.

Little did we know.

In early October, 2001, I was among a handful of people on a nearly-empty plane flying into New York; I was to attend a photo-editing meeting, scheduled months beforehand, for a vintage fashion book I'd co-written with my friend Linda. As we approached southern Manhattan, the pilot announced that visibility was really good, in case any of us wanted to look at the still-smoldering remains of the World Trade Center. Of course I looked--how could I not?--and of course I cried (again). But not too far away, there she was, still, torch aloft in defiance of all that dark smoke and drifting poison: Lady Liberty.

And carved in bronze beneath her, though obviously not visible from the air, her sonnet, by Emma Lazarus, gave proof through the night that her promise was still there:

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Also at Cogitamus.

Dear Mike Galanos: Kindly walk a nine-month mile in our stilettos

"We're enabling teenagers to act carelessly with an easy way out. [...] That is not what is best for our daughters."

-- Mike Galanos, host of CNN's Prime News, on the FDA's long-awaited approval for over-the-counter sales, to sixteenseventeen-year-old young women, of the effective and laboriously researched and tested "morning-after pill", Plan B.

If Mike Galanos is to maintain his credibility as a journalist, professional and human ethics demand that he properly research his subject matter.

Accordingly, Mike Galanos should begin with an injection of time-released chemicals designed to make him vomit day and night for at least four months. Then, he must have all his clothes taken in radically so that absolutely nothing fits, necessitating the spending of not-small fortunes on poorly-made (if not flat-out throwaway) specialty clothes in order to avoid showing up at work naked.

At this point, a large bag containing a remote-control Rock-'em-Sock-'em Robot, one that has a 9-month battery life, along with several handfuls of marbles, will be inserted into the abdominal cavity of Mike Galanos, and the surgeon will create a portal for adding more marbles every week; the bag will thus press ever more firmly on his bladder, reminding him of its presence even as he tries to ignore it and go about his day. Eventually, it will routinely push the small amounts of food he is able to swallow back into his esophagus on a wave of stomach acid. Then, the bag will partially obstruct his intestines.

Further, Mike Galanos must have his blood supply increased by half and his appetite chemically adjusted so that it takes strange turns at even stranger times. He must also have his nose turned into a hair-trigger solenoid switch that activates his gag reflex at inopportune moments.

Mike Galanos must then attempt to commute, work, go to school, grocery-shop, house-keep, socialize, and/or otherwise try to live his life while every single human being with whom he comes in contact passes comment on his increasing girth and speculates on the number of aliens he's "got hiding in there, yuk, yuk, yuk." He will crave sex more than ever, but the swollen, wildly undulating stomach thing won't do much in the way of turning his partner on, so he'll have to be content with racy dreams. If he can even sleep, that is.

After forty weeks--at which point, if his "pregnancy" style is anything like mine, he will have gained more than 50% of his non-"pregnant" body weight, all of it in the stomach--Mike Galanos must be placed on a crackly vinyl-sheeted hospital bed with a single rubber pillow and have his precious parts subjected to the probing forearms of at least twenty different nurses and other healthcare sorts (did the cafeteria manager get a turn? I can't remember...). Meanwhile, a large vice will be placed around his pelvis and extreme constriction applied thereto for about thirty seconds, over and over, at steadily decreasing intervals.

As the day wears on and his energy dwindles, Mike Galanos will probably ask for food. When it appears no-one is listening, he'll scale back his demands and ask for some crackers, a sip of water, anything. He must be denied, of course, though if someone is feeling charitable, he or she could always offer him a Dixie-cup containing cubes of imitation orange-flavored Jell-O product, along with an ice cube to suck.

Mike Galanos will undoubtedly then beg for drugs; or, as I did, he will ask to be killed. (I think I might have said Please, since it's all part of growing up and being British--plus my Mum was in the room--but again, agony like that can make one's memory a bit fuzzy.)

Mike Galanos should then be patted on the hand and told, Sorry, sweetie, but the anesthesiologist is busy helping another Mom right now; he'll be here soon.

Mike Galanos must then undergo a high-tech pain-simulating technique whereby the experience of being drawn-and-quartered Wild-West-style--old school!--is recreated via the magic of electrodes connected to his brain's pain receptors. This won't take long. It doesn't have to.

Then, Mike Galanos will feel his precious parts strain and tear asunder as the enormous bag containing the Rock-'em-Sock-'em Robot and marbles is pulled from his lower unit. He will leap from the restraints and try to jump up and down for joy, so happy is he that it's finally, finally over. It will take four nurses to pin him back onto his bed, all the while screaming at him that he'd better listen and he'd better lie back down if he doesn't want to hemorrhage to death right then and there.

Mike Galanos will then be stitched back together, and this actually will take some time. (Even so, it will be more than a month before he'll be able to sit in a chair or drive a car without feeling that ripping-stabbing sensation.)

When Mike Galanos has completed this research exercise, then--and only then--will he have any right whatsoever to opine on pregnancy and the choices of those who really do face the undertaking thereof.

Thanks to Sir C. for the heads-up.

Also at Cogitamus.

Swine Flu: Smithfield Foods' statement vs. the ugly truth (with photos)

American multinational CAFO Smithfield Foods this Sunday denied responsibility for the outbreak in Veracruz, Mexico, of swine flu, now an international public health emergency and currently classified as a Level 4 Pandemic ( sustained human-to-human transmission). Smithfield also states it is cooperating with government officials in the investigation:

Based on available recent information, Smithfield has no reason to believe that the virus is in any way connected to its operations in Mexico. The company also noted that its joint ventures in Mexico routinely administer influenza virus vaccination to their swine herds and conduct monthly tests for the presence of swine influenza.

The National Pork Producers Council reported today that according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the U.S. Department of Homeland Security, "people cannot get the hybrid influenza from eating pork or pork products" and "preliminary investigations have determined that none of the people infected with the hybrid flu had contact with hogs."

However, Smithfield's statement fails to mention that countless residents of La Gloria were routinely and relentlessly exposed to airborne droplets of pig feces and decayed tissue for an undetermined number of years, thanks to toxic and sick-making clouds blowing outward from Granja Carrol's so-called "oxidation ponds"--or pig sewage lagoons. And that they have long complained of respiratory illnesses, well before their children started dying in March.

Nor does the company's statement explain that contracting the H1N1 influenza virus does NOT necessarily require that one "have contact with hogs"; in fact, the flu virus is spread via tiny droplets of infected matter--feces, body fluids--that reach the mucous membranes and lungs when someone touches a contaminated surface before rubbing his eyes, for example, or when he unwittingly inhales the airborne, virus-containing waste droplets floating around his town courtesy of a nearby pig or poultry CAFO.

And there's something else--several things, actually--that Smithfield Foods left off its website: photographs of the Granjas Carrol plant itself. The photos are published on the news website Enlace Veracruz 212 (Veracruz Connection) - Analytical and Investigative Journalism. It must be said, these writer(s) and photographer(s) are very brave journalists indeed--for reasons both obvious and not-so-obvious: according to the accompanying article, speaking out against the Granjas Carrol operation has, disturbingly but not unsurprisingly, led to various residents being intimidated, threatened, and arrested by certain officials tasked with protecting the company's financial interests. (These images are, in a word, grisly. You've been warned.)

The infamous oxidation ponds, or pig-waste lagoons, filled with concentrated excrement, blood, and the rotting bodies of dead pigs; note the broken pipe.

Rotting pig carcass floating in the oxidation pond/pig-waste lagoon

Dead pigs, stacked on a wheeled cart and left out in the heat. It is not clear if these animals' bodies were destined for processing or disposal.

More dead pigs left out to rot; scavenger animals got hold of these carcasses. As the Enlace Veracruz writer notes, "This is the how Granjas Carrol cares for its dead."

So, readers, are you horrified yet? And are you, too, wondering where on Earth the American mainstream media are?

Also at Cogitamus.

Swine Flu: CAFO Smithfield Foods implicated; must come clean

"Pobre Mexico--tan lejos de Diós; tan circa á los Estados Unidos."
- Mexican saying
Poor Mexico--so far from God; so close to the United States

From the latest edition of Mexico City's La Jornada (I've translated this for you):

Granjas Carrol, protected by authorities*

We are mistaken to believe that authorities responsible for guaranteeing public health and protecting the quality of our natural resources (especially water) have acted to avoid a situation where Granjas Carrol, one of the largest pork processors in the country [Mexico], would negatively affect thousands of people as well as the surrounding environment.

It has been three years since we reported here about the population of Perote, Veracruz, and the hardships they suffer owing to the protection that officials [to whom we] issued requests give to said business. Granjas Carrol was established 15 years ago in Perote because it was an ideal site for pork-processing: a good climate, close proximity to the country's central market, the availability of cheap manual labor, and the ease with which to bring in the agricultural supplies required to process nearly a million pigs per year and maintain 40,000 breeding animals.

Carrol is distinguished for its high consumption of water and the resources that allow the pigs to grow rapidly and to be "healthy". But the waste that originates from this breeder is dangerous: pig excrement, chemical and biological residues, wastewater leaching into in the water we use ourselves. For [the violation of] contaminating [the water and environment] with waste, the United States fined the powerful enterprise Smithfield, majority owner of Carrol. Here, in contrast, everything is allowed, as demonstrated in public reports, last week, by correspondent Andrés Timoteo Morales. Furthermore, he notes how local authorities persecute those who fight for the environment and for health. And the federal authorities?

Another matter that marches at the pace of a turtle: the cleaning-up of beaches. According to the government, they have invested 2 thousand-million pesos into water treatment plants in the main tourist-destination cities of the coast. The secretaries of Health and Environment give priority to the water-quality monitoring--for critical contamination--of some 21 beaches; these are in Jalisco, Campeche, Veracruz, Chiapas and Guerrero. But there is much more going on, according to the association El Poder del Consumador [the Power of the Consumer]. For its part, Greenpeace states that authorities do not inform the public in a timely way, or with proven data, about the water quality issues at the beaches.

A short summary, then; one that doesn't even require reading between the lines: American-owned interests in Mexico--from pork processing giants built alongside villages to water-treatment facilities serving the fancy hotels in coastal cities--are largely unregulated by Mexican officials.

This much is fairly well-known, I think--certainly it's well-known in agribusiness circles.

And my own between-the-lines take, offered herein with a sad shrug of my shoulders that will be well-understood by those who have even a passing familiarity with how business is done, ah, elswhere: the article's headline itself, protected by authorities, which can also be read/translated as protegé of the authorities. *

-----

By now you've all heard about the virulent H1N1 strain of influenza, currently referred to as swine flu, and perhaps you saw Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano on television explaining to America that declaring a state of emergency, as she was doing, was just a precaution--a preparatory step, just in case--so that Federal money was made available. Just in case.

Consider this post a case presented, then.

At this point, beyond America's borders, people are somewhere between rightly worried and seriously panicked, and that's just the government officials. The state legislature in Veracruz, widely thought to be the outbreak's epicenter--certainly it is the largest "hot spot"--has already demanded that Granjas Carrol, the Mexican-based subsidiary of giant U.S. pork processor Smithfield Foods, come clean, so to speak:

The state legislature of Veracruz has demanded that the Smithfield subsidiary turn over all documents and environmental certifications on its three massive waste lagoons, but so far, the company has only supplied information on one of them, news reports said today.

As part of normal (!) operations, Granjas Carrol dumps many tons of the hogs' waste into what are essentially sewage lagoons, referred to as lagunas de oxidación (oxidation ponds) and these constantly emit clouds of waste droplets and flies; this in turn befouls the air and water of adjacent La Gloria, the residents of which have long complained about respiratory infections they feel are related to this "pollution of the water and wind".

Then, in March, those respiratory infections began killing residents. Mexican authorities are quietly exhuming the bodies of two La Gloria children believed to have died of this new strain of flu, and officials have declared a cordon sanitario--literally, a sanitary cord; in this case, a public health barricade or quarantine--be placed around the Granjas Carrol and other pork and poultry CAFO's (Confined Animal Feeding Operation) in the area, and around bus terminals and airports.

When reading about and reporting on swine flu--a virus--it's important to bear a couple of things in mind.

First, this swine flu virus contains elements of avian, human, and swine influenza. According to the CDC's partner website PandemicFlu.gov, avian (bird) flu is transmitted thus (emphasis mine):

Infected birds shed influenza virus in their saliva, nasal secretions, and feces. Susceptible birds become infected when they have contact with contaminated excretions or with surfaces that are contaminated with excretions or secretions. Wild bird avian influenza viruses of low pathogenicity mix with avian viruses in domesticated birds and become highly pathogenic in poultry. Domestic poultry may become infected with avian influenza virus through direct contact with infected waterfowl or other infected poultry or through contact with surfaces (such as dirt or cages) or materials (such as feces or feed) that have been contaminated with droppings that harbor the low-pathogenicity virus.

In other words, low pathogenic avian influenza, which naturally occurs in wild birds, can spread to domestic birds; the relatively mildly-pathogenic flu can become "highly pathogenic" when domestic poultry come in contact with infected birds--or with feed or feces that has been contaminated by the droppings of wild birds. And from there, other animals can contract the virus. For example, during the last major flu outbreak, the H5N1 avian flu virus also infected cats in Europe.

Second, the aforementioned CAFO--Granjas Carrol, subsidiary of Smithfield Foods--is essentially an enormous, concentrated hog farm, and while hog farms are not what anyone would call the cleanest places in the world, one would expect the massive doses of antibiotics CAFO's routinely administer to confined livestock would keep infections at bay, right?

In a word, NO.

Influenza is a virus, not a bacteria, and antibiotics treat, and prevent the spread of, bacterial infections--this is likely why the drugged-up pigs didn't get sick all that time, meanwhile the unprotected residents of nearby La Gloria constantly complained of respiratory infections, most likely bacterial--at first. At some point in the recent past, however, a new mutation of the flu virus, the triple-whammy H1N1 bird-pig-human combo bug, found its way to the infamous clouds of pig waste and flies drifting across--and spreading outward from--the "oxidation ponds" about which Granjas Carrol/Smithfield released only partial information, and about which they are still remaining (mostly) quiet. Even as people have begun dying of those infections in what are, quite frankly, alarming numbers.

Finally, a question: what of the connection between avian flu and this new swine flu, with its human, avian, and swine DNA--is there one?

He [Mexico's Chairman of the Committee on the Environment, Marco Antonio Núñez López] was referring to another CAFO, this one containing poultry, called Granjas de Bachoco, located near the state capital of Xalapa. He said there was an epidemic of avian flu among the chickens being raised there, but that this was being kept quiet so as not to interfere with exports. Influenza-infected chickens raise the risk of cross-infection to pigs in the same area, scientists say.

I'll be keeping a close eye on developments in this story, both in the US and Mexican media, as I've already noticed some interesting and significant differences in what--and how much--they're saying south of the border versus here in the land of Los Norteños.

Further reading:

The article in Grist, by Tom Philpott, that connects Smithfield to the Swine Flu outbreak
The World Health Organization's Swine Flu information center
The Center for Disease Control's Swine Flu information center

Cogitamus ergo ridemus: Eddie Izzard on Techno-joy and computers ending the world

Because thinking people need to laugh, and Eddie Izzard is a thinking person's laughmaker. (I'd recommend using headphones if the innocent or easily-offended lurk nearby, ahem.)

Bon Weekend, everyone!

"United by a Shared Intolerance, to Protect Dual-Sex Marriage."

Awesome. Via Watertiger.

Good Friday Frank: a Very Special History Repeats Itself Edition

In 1990, Frank Zappa was guest-host for a program called Focus, produced and aired by the long-since-shuttered FNN. In the clips below, he interviews Emmy-award-winning journalist and current NPR news analyst Daniel Schorr, who discusses, among other things, his decision (in the 1970's) to publish the Pike Committee report--which detailed the CIA and FBI's various and many illegal activities at home and abroad--as well as his subsequent "resignation" from his then-employer, CBS (shades of Rathergate?!)





A bit of context, via Wikipedia:

Schorr attracted the anger of the Nixon White House. In 1971, after a dispute with White House aides, Schorr's friends, neighbors, and co-workers were questioned by the FBI about his habits. They were told that Schorr was under consideration for a high-level position in the environmental area. Schorr knew nothing about it. Later, during the Watergate hearings, it was revealed that Nixon aides had drawn up what became known as Nixon's Enemies List, and Daniel Schorr was on that list. Famously, Schorr read the list aloud on live TV, surprised to be reading his own name in that context. Schorr won Emmys for news reporting in 1972, 1973, and 1974.

Schorr provoked intense controversy in 1976 when he received and made public the contents of the secret Pike Committee report on illegal CIA and FBI activities. Called to testify before Congress, he refused to identify his source on First Amendment grounds, risking imprisonment. This did not mollify CBS executives, and Schorr ultimately resigned from his position at CBS in September 1976.

On May 14, 2006, on NPR's Weekend Edition, Schorr mentioned a meeting at the White House that took place with colleague A. M. Rosenthal and president Gerald Ford. Ford mentioned that the Rockefeller Commission had access to various CIA documents, including those referring to political assassinations. Although scolded at first for his television report by former CIA director Richard Helms, Schorr was vindicated by the text of the Pike Committee, which he obtained from an undisclosed source and leaked to The Village Voice.

I was cheered--though completely unsurprised--to learn that Schorr and Zappa were friends:

Though by no means a fan of rock music, Schorr became friends with composer Frank Zappa after the latter contacted him, asking for help with a voter-registration drive. Schorr made an appearance with Zappa on February 10, 1988, where he sang "It Ain't Necessarily So" and "Summertime". Schorr delivered the eulogy on NPR after Zappa's untimely death on December 4, 1993; he professed not to understand Zappa's lengthy discourses on music theory, but he found a kindred spirit—a serious man with a commitment to free speech.

A commenter at YouTube notes: I think when Frank died the world's intelligence level must have dropped by 80%.

Thankfully, we still have Frank Zappa's astounding body of work, and it continues to inspire, amuse, provoke, and, yes, demand. "Pay attention!" it says. "Teach yourself; fight for your ideals; stop accepting mediocrity."

We're trying, Frank. We really are.

Best HuffPo Headline EVER

That screeching you hear is the sound of a thousand feet stomping on the brakes as some of us head down the street toward that billboard and suddenly notice a sea of oddly stationary cars and giddy, wide-eyed pedestrians located directly in front of us.

If we absolutely must have shrinkage, well, bend it like Beckham, I say.

(The actual story about sales of men's undies being an economic indicator is here.)

Shopping the Middle Ages for Bras and Panties

Consider this Reason Number 3,999,999,999 that Deborah is grateful for the moderately-modern mindset of the society in which we live here in the West. Not that I'd be embarrassed to buy undies from a guy, mind you--I'd probably enjoy watching him squirm at whatever extremely naughty jokes I'd made a point of telling him--but I would feel an ongoing need to loudly protest the fact that our Saudi sisters not only are prohibited from driving a car, but can't even turn to a lady bra-fitter to help them when they're seeking comfort and support for The Girls, because their law apparently says only men can be lady bra-fitters. Or store clerks or car-drivers. Or something.

Oh dear. I am imagining a loudly-protesting Me, standing in a lingerie store in Saudi Arabia, assuredly not wearing the forty yards of black wool draping they like to throw all over our Evil Temptress Female bodies, and if it's hot outside (!), probably sporting bare legs, bare arms, and at least one wayward bra strap.

Wait! Wait! I want my lawyer! I want my gift-with-purchase teddy bear! I promise not to name it Mohammed!

Inside All of Us is a Wild Thing

Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are--aka The Tornello family's Favorite Book Ever--is coming to the Big Screen, courtesy of the wonderful Spike Jonze.

I'm thrilled to bits; after all, there are at least three copies of the book lying around my house, and I know we had all the monster puppets at one point (though Heaven help me try to find them right now). And each of us has one variation of the t-shirt or another, even Mama.

Wild Things Fever really took hold when Son One turned six, and we threw him a huge Where the Wild Things Are birthday party. On the morning of his big day, Son One walked into the back garden to find a real, full-sized and red-painted wooden sailboat that Robert and our friend Jeff built, complete with a bamboo mast and a yellow canvas sail sewed by Yours Truly. We also set up a washing-line-and-flowered-sheet tent (just like the one Max plays in) over one of the lower oak branches, and designed a cake that looked like a limb from the scary forest and covered it with plastic creepy-crawlies. I had painstakingly copied the book title's font when making the invitations. And, of course, stuffed versions of the Wild Things were stationed around the house.

Everyone had a ball and no-one was sent to his room--not even Robert, who, later that evening, somehow managed to completely burn off the handle of my favorite wok while BUI (Barbecuing Under the Influence).

And in a world where it seems that pink maribou-bedecked books and rhinestone-covered fantasy gear dominate the real estate of children's retail and juvenile publishing, I have to say, thank goodness for Maurice Sendak, as well as Roald Dahl--both are children's authors who wrote brilliantly, sensitively, and unflinchingly about the dark (and funny!) sides of human nature.

Where the Wild Things Are will be in theatres just in time for my own birthday, this October. Hooray!

Incitement In My Sights: Townhall and Worldnet Daily Offer Fearmongering and Free Guns

Gun print by Andy Warhol

incite -- v.t. (from the Latin incitāre): to urge forward;
to stir, encourage, or urge on; to stimulate or prompt to action.

Fresh from my In box: via Townhall comes this risible wad of rubbish breathless and urgent call to action, titled in all-caps (of course) thus:

MILLIONAIRE PATRIOT WANTS YOU ARMED AND TRAINED.

Here's the main body of the e-mail, emphasis mine and inciting links removed (should you be so inclined, you can access the original Townhall link to this offer here):

Dear Reader,

The next four years may prove to be a turning point for all freedom loving Americans.

With the new administration holding party majorities in the House and Senate, we are facing the worst political environment for the passage of unchecked gun control legislation and further erosion of our constitutional right to bear arms than we have previously seen in our lifetimes.

As the nation creeps from recession to depression, the potential for civil unrest in every major city grows more likely. There has never been a more crucial time in our nation's history to make sure you are armed and trained for the protection of yourself and your family.

One man in our country knows this better than most, and I'm proud to tell you, he is doing something about it.

His name is Dr. Ignatius Piazza.

He is the Founder and Director of Front Sight Firearms Training Institute and is known by his hundreds of thousands of students as 'The Millionaire Patriot' because he has literally given away millions of dollars in free and discounted training to law abiding citizens to assist them is securing what he refers to as "The Comfort of Skill at Arms."

Dr. Piazza, the Millionaire Patriot, wants YOU armed and trained and he is putting his money where his mouth is.

He is providing you with the opportunity to attend five days of world class training at his Front Sight Firearms Training Institute with everything you need to secure permits to carry a concealed handgun in over 30 states—all for pennies-on-the-dollar!

Plus, if you act quickly before all the guns he set aside are gone, he will give you, free of charge, a Springfield Armory XD Pistol in your choice of 9mm, .40SW, or .45ACP!

That's right. This is legitimate. Thousands of people have already taken advantage of it AND YOU SHOULD TOO!

I can personally vouch for Dr. Piazza and his Front Sight Firearms Training Institute.

I believe now more than ever before that EVERY American should be armed and trained to the highest levels possible—levels that exceed law enforcement and military standards. Take advantage of the Millionaire Patriot's offer. Get armed and trained to prepare for what may be coming in the next four years!

NOW is the time to get armed and trained. Don't wait until it is too late.

Click for more details about the Millionaire Patriot's amazing offer.

Sincerely,

Joseph Farah
Editor and Chief Executive Officer
www.WorldNetDaily.com

P.S., You have never seen me make such a personal endorsement, so take heed to the fact that I am telling you to take advantage of Dr. Piazza's offer to get five days of world class training at Front Sight, concealed weapon permits good in 30 states, and a FREE Springfield Armory XD Pistol.

Can I get away with pulling a Michelle-Malkin-style single-word comment here? Of course I can. (Because you know I'm usually good for several pages of ranting when it comes to Wingnut Mental Disorders and are thus relieved to only have one word of litbrittery to confront.)

Okay, here it is, then: treasonable.

Greetings From Santa Fe Plus a Must-see South Park

I am a nervous flier, but a confident drinker and valium-swallower.
--Martin Amis

The boys and Boy and I arrived in Santa Fe yesterday (your home state is gorgeous, Stephen!), and I'm taking the morning off to sleep late, read e-mails and blogs, watch a South Park episode with Son One, and generally enjoy the wonderfulness of Not Having To Be Anywhere or Do Anything at Any Time Unless I Feel Like it. This vacation was long overdue--I'd forgotten how much I love being Elsewhere, how much I love mountains, and how funny South Park can be when Matt and Trey are really on their collective game.

Anyway, once I get myself out and about--there is a snowy mountain to be conquered, after all, despite the deceptive blue sky I can see outside the picture window--I'll have some pics and observations to share. (Although I can tell you this right off the bat: Santa Fe appears to be a terrific foodie town, certainly insofar as its Indian cuisine--sampled yesterday--is concerned.)

So, go watch last week's hilarious South Park, The Ring*, in which Eric and company address the hypocrisy of using wholesomeness, purity, and non-badness--you know, Christian Family Values® as demonstrated by the Palins--to sell to little girls what is, at its core, the same old thing everyone else in the entertainment and advertising worlds is trying to sell: sex. I only wish that in the real world, we could similarly retard--or, better yet, completely obstruct--the dread Disneyfication Creep that we in Florida have long been decrying.

I must pay more attention to Son One's teevee recommendations, as it would appear he has inherited his parents' wit, bless his twisty little heart.

Peace, everyone.

*Not even remotely safe for work or small children, as this is the uncensored version (not that the censored versions of South Park are especially safe for small children, but in this case, it might be distressing for kids to hear Mickey Mouse going verbally medieval on the asses of the Jonas Brothers followed by Mickey Mouse bloviating, in Rush-like tones, his true opinion of little girls--and more.)

The Truth-Not-Cherrypicked: Sweet and Quite Delciious

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jim Cramer Pt. 3

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things w/ Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Jim Cramer

Here it is, to watch in amazement and watch again. (Is it conceivable, do you suppose, that Jim Cramer really believes that it is all just a big game? I mean, look at the guy and consider how...Nah. Never mind.)

Jon Stewart For the Win

As a follow-up to the previous post, I'm compelled to share this latest bit of Jon Stewart brilliance.

FYI, I'm hearing rumors that Jim Cramer will appear on the Daily Show this Thursday. Ooo-kay.

(Seriously, bringing in Dora the Explorer and her feces-throwing sidekick monkey was awesome stagecraft. Bravo, Daily Show!)

Jim Cramer & Company: 10b* or Not 10b?

That is the question. Not that matters moral and metaphysical would seem to have great relevance in the lives of the Stone-Cold Evildoers of CNBC®.

Honestly (ha!), after the events, revelations, and embarrassing re-broadcasts of Staggering Wrongness that we've witnessed over the last week or so, I've come to think that we ought to view Jim Cramer's ridicule via the Daily Show as a mere warm-up, an amuse-bouche to whet our collective justice-seeking appetite.

Because look at this. Go on, watch it. And then tell me why these folks--Cramer, in this case--are different from any other mid-level criminal-for-hire. Exactly--they're not. They're just garden-variety perps with manicures and pinpoint Oxford shirts. They're Money Honeys and Street Sweeties who've finally caused enough bottomless cavities that their eroded metiér is now collapsing in on itself.

Via the HuffPo comes this footage of a Jim Cramer interview, aired on TheStreet.com TV in 2006:




The money quotes (so to speak) (emphasis mine):

On manipulating the market: "A lot of times when I was short at my hedge fund, and I was positioned short, meaning I needed it down, I would create a level of activity before hand that could drive the futures."

On falsely creating the impression a stock is down (what he calls "fomenting"): "You can't foment. That's a violation... But you do it anyway because the SEC doesn't understand it." He adds, "When you have six days and your company may be in doubt because you are down, I think it is really important to foment."

On the truth: "What's important when you are in that hedge fund mode is to not be doing anything that is remotely truthful, because the truth is so against your view - it is important to create a new truth to develop a fiction," Cramer advises.

*It's been more than twenty years since I got my Series 7 License, but Rule 10B-5 of the Securities Exchange Act of 1934 is not something you tend to forget, and Wiki is always there to remind you of the precise language:

Rule 10b-5: Employment of Manipulative and Deceptive Practices

It shall be unlawful for any person, directly or indirectly, by the use of any means or instrumentality of interstate commerce, or of the mails or of any facility of any national securities exchange,

(a) To employ any device, scheme, or artifice to defraud,

(b) To make any untrue statement of a material fact or to omit to state a material fact necessary in order to make the statements made, in the light of the circumstances under which they were made, not misleading, or

(c) To engage in any act, practice, or course of business which operates or would operate as a fraud or deceit upon any person,

in connection with the purchase or sale of any security.

So, what do you think--paper or plastic? I'm referring to the question of prison-issue coffee-cups. Plastic can leach chemicals into the java, and paper tends to burn the hand (unless the coffee is lukewarm). Metal is probably not a good idea--they'll be rattling them against the bars all night long, something I wouldn't wish on even the meanest privately-contracted warden.

Is it Fun, Being a Billionaire? F*ck YOU!

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

CNBC Gives Financial Advice

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things With Demetri Martin

Political Humor
Joke of the Day

Everyone needs to watch--and share--this clip from The Daily Show that Sir C (along with countless others in the 'Sphere) linked to last night. Jon Stewart absolutely eviscerates the oblivious, villainous, egomaniacal morons so-called financial experts at CNBC. And then feeds their sorry entrails to the metaphorical lions while making the viewer laugh and cry simultaneously.

I'm going to go out on a limb and pronounce this one of Stewart's best and most important pieces of social commentary to date. Yes, it is that spot-on. Kudos to Stewart's writers, too, for the Dow stats and dates that really sledgehammer the point home: that these cocksure men (and a few women) are, at best, incredibly stupid and irresponsible people. At worst, well, let's just say these characters are stone-cold evil, and they're craven enough that if this were another time and place, they'd be changing their haircolor, packing up their protein bars and bulletproof vests, and heading for the hills, hoping madly that someone among them had, at some point, learned how to forage and cook.

Meh, a wealth-reduced girl can dream. Go watch it!

Friday Wednesday Frank: My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama; Dweezil & Friends

Something to cure the mid-week blues (and a serious treat for fellow guitar-heads): Frank Zappa's classic, solo-inspiring My Guitar Wants to Kill Your Mama, brought to you by Steve Vai, Dweezil Zappa, Eric Sardinas, Tony MacAlpine, Dave Weiner, and Billy Sheehan (on bass).

Enjoy, and Happy Wednesday.