Outstanding achievement in the field of excellence
BBC: In a hard-hitting report, [MP committee] says the Order of the British Empire is now inappropriate and should be replaced by an Order of British Excellence.
With the proposed new system of titles borrowing from those dim-witted California surfer dudes, Bill and Ted, perhaps the titles could be further spiced with input from Beavis and Butt-head, who after all, think of England as
that dumb little country where everything sucks
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Asked and answered
Thank you to the diligent BOBW reader who unearthed the following response to yesterday's query (courtesy of the OED online):
Nota bene: BOBW does NOT condone the bowdlerization of vulgar terminology (Cf. Cheney, 2004), but we realize that some readers may be saddled with Internet filters and do not want to deprive them of access to the blog.
Now we must turn to Chapman's Iliad and figure out what the f*ck he was talking about...
Thank you to the diligent BOBW reader who unearthed the following response to yesterday's query (courtesy of the OED online):
windf*cker
Obs.
[Cf. ?F*ckwind, a species of hawk. North.? (Halliwell).]
1. A name for the kestrel: cf. WINDHOVER.
1599 NASHE Lenten Stuffe 49 The kistrilles or windf*ckers that
filling themselues with winde, fly against the winde euermore.
2. fig. as a term of opprobrium.
1602 Narcissus MS. Rawl. Poet. 212, lf. 80, I tell you, my little
windf*ckers, had not a certaine melancholye ingendred with a nippinge
dolour overshadowed the sunne shine of my mirthe, I had beene I pre,
sequor, one of your consorte. 1609 B. JONSON Silent Wom. I. iv. (1620)
C3b, Did you euer heare such a Wind-f*cker, as this? c1611 CHAPMAN
Iliad Pref. A4, There is a certaine enuious Windf*cker, that houers vp
and downe, laboriously ingrossing al the air with his luxurious
ambition. a1616 BEAUM. & FL. Wit without M. IV. i, Husbands for Whores
and Bawdes, away you wind-suckers [sic ed. 1639].
Nota bene: BOBW does NOT condone the bowdlerization of vulgar terminology (Cf. Cheney, 2004), but we realize that some readers may be saddled with Internet filters and do not want to deprive them of access to the blog.
Now we must turn to Chapman's Iliad and figure out what the f*ck he was talking about...
Monday, July 12, 2004
Um, "Warble-Wanker"? "Whoreson Wren"?
Though somewhat distracted by the demands of business-class travel ("Kir Royale or Buck's Fizz to start your journey, Madam?") We did notice this interesting tidbit in a 10 July New York Times obit for OED editor R.W. Burchfield:
Subsequent inquiries among likeminded friends have turned up little information on what this "breathtaking" bit of naughtiness might be, though we do learn from the OED that "The kestril breeds in the hollows of trees." (1766 PENNANT Zool.) Do contact us if you can shed light on this burning question.
Though somewhat distracted by the demands of business-class travel ("Kir Royale or Buck's Fizz to start your journey, Madam?") We did notice this interesting tidbit in a 10 July New York Times obit for OED editor R.W. Burchfield:
Conceived in 1858, the original O.E.D. was every inch a Victorian enterprise. Though its editors had agonized over whether to include terms of scatology, sexual congress and racial opprobrium, delicacy won the day. With the exception of a very few entries late in the alphabet, when the restrictions had begun to ease (a breathtakingly vulgar synonym for "kestrel" can be found in the W's), offensive terms were excluded.
Subsequent inquiries among likeminded friends have turned up little information on what this "breathtaking" bit of naughtiness might be, though we do learn from the OED that "The kestril breeds in the hollows of trees." (1766 PENNANT Zool.) Do contact us if you can shed light on this burning question.
Friday, July 09, 2004
On the road
For about the next two weeks, the entire BOBW team will be based amongst the fascinating native peoples of Meath and points west. Blogging opportunities will be at best sporadic so it'll likely be the last week in this month before any major posts. However, we suspect that the silly season is going to be shorter than usual this year both in the US and Europe, so there'll be plenty of potential material once we get near a keyboard. We have a sense that citizens of both the US and Europe have spent the last decade or so with comparatively low expectations of their elected leaders, but wonder, as the consequences of this sink in, whether that expectation will now change.
At an almost incidental level, we were amused to see in the Irish media today (here and here) the news that the Dail (Irish Parliament) bar is considering the possibility that it has broken the law since the foundation of the state by not having a licence to serve alcohol. The traditional view derived from Dubya's favourite doctrine, the separation of powers, which he and the Dail bar interpreted to mean that no other branch of government had jurisdiction over an internal government affair. Now at least the Dail bar sees this as untrammelled authority only in its ability to serve creamy pints of Guinness, and not in the ability to cook up an energy policy with Ken "Kenny Boy" Lay or detain prisoners indefinitely. So anyway, the Dail bar has decided (unlike Dubya) that it would be better if it was aligned with the law like everyone else. Until then, the pints come with a frisson of illegality, at no extra charge.
For about the next two weeks, the entire BOBW team will be based amongst the fascinating native peoples of Meath and points west. Blogging opportunities will be at best sporadic so it'll likely be the last week in this month before any major posts. However, we suspect that the silly season is going to be shorter than usual this year both in the US and Europe, so there'll be plenty of potential material once we get near a keyboard. We have a sense that citizens of both the US and Europe have spent the last decade or so with comparatively low expectations of their elected leaders, but wonder, as the consequences of this sink in, whether that expectation will now change.
At an almost incidental level, we were amused to see in the Irish media today (here and here) the news that the Dail (Irish Parliament) bar is considering the possibility that it has broken the law since the foundation of the state by not having a licence to serve alcohol. The traditional view derived from Dubya's favourite doctrine, the separation of powers, which he and the Dail bar interpreted to mean that no other branch of government had jurisdiction over an internal government affair. Now at least the Dail bar sees this as untrammelled authority only in its ability to serve creamy pints of Guinness, and not in the ability to cook up an energy policy with Ken "Kenny Boy" Lay or detain prisoners indefinitely. So anyway, the Dail bar has decided (unlike Dubya) that it would be better if it was aligned with the law like everyone else. Until then, the pints come with a frisson of illegality, at no extra charge.
Thursday, July 08, 2004
An American newshound in Dublin
Here's an interesting article in an American media trade publication describing one editor's impression of the Irish newspaper world, from the perspective of a consumer, on both sides of the border. It's a nice read, not least because the writer has no particular political axe to grind, and therefore gets things fairly right. In particular he highlights the high cost of Irish newspapers (close to $2), the often irreverent writing, and the relative slowness to adopt tried and tested techniques from elsewhere (e.g. tabloid size and comics).
But what's a blog for if not quibbling and we have a couple. Mainly, it's that he seems to have been lulled into thinking of the Irish Independent as a "quality" paper, with its broadsheet format and common ownership with the London Independent, which is a half-decent paper. But the Indo? Much of what's in there in a given day is simply a rehash of what's in the UK tabloids; for instance, going to the website for today we see that one of the featured stories is the divorce case of Arsenal star Ray Parlour, which has zero connection to anything Irish. Now of course the Indo's response would be that it's giving the readers what they want, but that's quite different from being a "quality" paper. We might as well just reveal our own bias, which is that the quality read is to be found in the Irish Times, which for all its Unionist past and whiny columnists, does manage to cover the things about Ireland that we find interesting. And there's another issue with the Indo -- its control by our little local Murdoch figure, Tony O'Reilly. Or "Sir" Tony, as he'd prefer to be known. Tony has had problems drawing the line between his business interests and the editorial line of the Indo, but that would take us into a long discourse on mid 1990s Irish politics so we'll save that for another day.
On a lighter note, older Irish Indo readers would be delighted to discover that the American kids saw the virtues of Curly Wee, a comic that appears each day in the Indo (the writer forgot to mention Curly's friend, Gussie Goose). And indeed, Curly's adventures can seem a bit sedate:
The extraordinary lameness of this combination of two-frame cartoon and poetry appealed to his 13-year-old sense of irony. Here's a sample of the caption's rhyme: "How Gillian Jane detests her school. She thinks it's simply VILE!/And when the others cry 'Buck up!' or 'Don't you ever smile?'/She answers back 'Let me alone!' in accents sharp and shrill/To which they squeak, 'Let you alone? Oh, righty-ho, we will!'"
Oh, righty-ho, indeed. It doesn't help that the pace of the story makes the progress of "Mary Worth" look like a tale told by a methamphetamine addict. The Curly Wee rabbits took a week to arrive at a hotel by train, and one day's entire episode concerned not eating lunch, but the cute critters simply looking at the picnic basket packed for them.
Now, we'll have to consult with the Curly experts when we are back in Meath next week to confirm, but we're pretty sure that the reason that the strip seems so, like, old, is because it is: one of the nice little ananchronisms about the Indo is that it just reruns the old strips from a generation ago, since the creator has long since passed on. But if it takes a little irony to make Curly vital again, so be it.
Here's an interesting article in an American media trade publication describing one editor's impression of the Irish newspaper world, from the perspective of a consumer, on both sides of the border. It's a nice read, not least because the writer has no particular political axe to grind, and therefore gets things fairly right. In particular he highlights the high cost of Irish newspapers (close to $2), the often irreverent writing, and the relative slowness to adopt tried and tested techniques from elsewhere (e.g. tabloid size and comics).
But what's a blog for if not quibbling and we have a couple. Mainly, it's that he seems to have been lulled into thinking of the Irish Independent as a "quality" paper, with its broadsheet format and common ownership with the London Independent, which is a half-decent paper. But the Indo? Much of what's in there in a given day is simply a rehash of what's in the UK tabloids; for instance, going to the website for today we see that one of the featured stories is the divorce case of Arsenal star Ray Parlour, which has zero connection to anything Irish. Now of course the Indo's response would be that it's giving the readers what they want, but that's quite different from being a "quality" paper. We might as well just reveal our own bias, which is that the quality read is to be found in the Irish Times, which for all its Unionist past and whiny columnists, does manage to cover the things about Ireland that we find interesting. And there's another issue with the Indo -- its control by our little local Murdoch figure, Tony O'Reilly. Or "Sir" Tony, as he'd prefer to be known. Tony has had problems drawing the line between his business interests and the editorial line of the Indo, but that would take us into a long discourse on mid 1990s Irish politics so we'll save that for another day.
On a lighter note, older Irish Indo readers would be delighted to discover that the American kids saw the virtues of Curly Wee, a comic that appears each day in the Indo (the writer forgot to mention Curly's friend, Gussie Goose). And indeed, Curly's adventures can seem a bit sedate:
The extraordinary lameness of this combination of two-frame cartoon and poetry appealed to his 13-year-old sense of irony. Here's a sample of the caption's rhyme: "How Gillian Jane detests her school. She thinks it's simply VILE!/And when the others cry 'Buck up!' or 'Don't you ever smile?'/She answers back 'Let me alone!' in accents sharp and shrill/To which they squeak, 'Let you alone? Oh, righty-ho, we will!'"
Oh, righty-ho, indeed. It doesn't help that the pace of the story makes the progress of "Mary Worth" look like a tale told by a methamphetamine addict. The Curly Wee rabbits took a week to arrive at a hotel by train, and one day's entire episode concerned not eating lunch, but the cute critters simply looking at the picnic basket packed for them.
Now, we'll have to consult with the Curly experts when we are back in Meath next week to confirm, but we're pretty sure that the reason that the strip seems so, like, old, is because it is: one of the nice little ananchronisms about the Indo is that it just reruns the old strips from a generation ago, since the creator has long since passed on. But if it takes a little irony to make Curly vital again, so be it.
Wednesday, July 07, 2004
Of that ilk
Ireland's celebrated ban on smoking in the workplace, which includes pubs, is facing its first serious test case. A pub in Galway, the suspiciously Oirish-named Fibber Magee's, is openly permitting smoking in the bar. They claim that revenue has crashed since the ban went into effect. But what caught our eye was the appropriately named co-owner:
Speaking to RTE News tonight, co-owner of the pub Ronan Lawless said the pub's owners were taking legal advice to decide what their response to this latest development [an imminent injunction] will be.
For their next stunt, the pub should fly over the recently drafted St Louis Rams quarterback, Jeff Smoker, who likewise has a past to back up his surname.
UPDATE [Oct 4 2004]. Mr Lawless fought the law and the law won.
Ireland's celebrated ban on smoking in the workplace, which includes pubs, is facing its first serious test case. A pub in Galway, the suspiciously Oirish-named Fibber Magee's, is openly permitting smoking in the bar. They claim that revenue has crashed since the ban went into effect. But what caught our eye was the appropriately named co-owner:
Speaking to RTE News tonight, co-owner of the pub Ronan Lawless said the pub's owners were taking legal advice to decide what their response to this latest development [an imminent injunction] will be.
For their next stunt, the pub should fly over the recently drafted St Louis Rams quarterback, Jeff Smoker, who likewise has a past to back up his surname.
UPDATE [Oct 4 2004]. Mr Lawless fought the law and the law won.
The Wild Colonial Boys
The 101st Fighting Keyboarders have been in need of a new way to signal their toughness; baying for blood in Baghdad from Washington DC or Provincetown tends to run into diminishing returns after a while. So the fearless Andrew Sullivan and Christopher Hitchens make their latest leap for Orwellian flights of rhetoric via their explicit use of the F*CK word on the web. Hitch has an article about the word in Slate, and Sully links to it and gets in an additional usage along the way, and doubtless both feel thoroughly pumped up afterwards.
Sully follows with the latest of several approving nods to Hitch's bashing of Michael Moore, about which we'll have more to say below, but let's consider Hitch's Slate piece first. As he has long since completed his shift to the reactionary right of his brother Peter (the latter having been against the war in Iraq), his writing has become strained of any coherent substance and all that remains is the withered invective, much like the leftover botanicals used to make a batch of Bombay Sapphire gin. He does try one actual anecdote, and botches it:
The following anecdote appears in one of Niall Ferguson's absorbing studies of the British Empire. On the eve of independence for the colony of South Yemen, the last British governor hosted a dinner party attended by Denis Healey, then the minister for defense. Over the final sundown cocktail, as the flag was about to be lowered over the capital of Aden, the governor turned to Healey and said, "You know, Minister, I believe that in the long view of history, the British Empire will be remembered only for two things." What, Healey was interested to know, were these imperishable aspects? "The game of soccer. And the expression 'f*ck off.' "
This is classic lazy hack journalism. Notice that he couldn't even be bothered to say which Niall F book it is. As it happens, the story appears on page 358 of Empire, but Hitch has thoroughly embellished it. Ferguson simply reports it as a remark made by Richard Turnbull, the penultimate governor of Aden (not the last governor) to Dennis Healey. And of course, Turnbull used the expression "Association Football" but we'll give Hitch a pass on his translation of a supposed direct quote. Because everything else Hitch relays about this anecdote is made up. Ferguson reports no time or context for the apercu -- no dinner party, no flag lowering, no to-and-fro between Dennis Healey and the governor.
Since he made such a hash of a something that he must have known someone could look up, how seriously can we take his other anecdotes, which rely entirely on his own memory? And the tone -- references to Kingsley Amis and the botched foul language of an Egyptian trader in the colonial days -- suggests a particular persona that Hitch seems to want to project for himself: that of the 1950s era cynically wise ex-colonial officer now posted to the UK Embassy in Washington and the life and soul of the State Department WASP dinner parties. Which is quite a journey for the 1960s radical.
And what of Hitch's volunteer duty as lead basher of Michael Moore? He and Sully are on the same page on that one too:
[Sully] "The man is openly on the other side in this war, and the film shows it in every frame." - Hitch, on CNN, telling it like it is. Actually, I think Moore may be objectively on the side of the Jihadists. But subjectively, he simply loathes American market capitalism more than Islamist fundamentalism.
Here we see the return to the "objectively pro-X" terminology of the early post 9/11 days; in this case, the two Oxbridge boys tell the Michigander that he's a traitor. Sullywatch will have plenty to say about Sully's pathologies on this one, but Hitch's fury seems in a class of its own. Basically, we think he's jealous of Moore. Remember what Hitch used to be known for -- the iconoclastic treatments of Mother Teresa and Princess Di. Now the sacred figure is Dubya, but it's Hitch leading the mob to protect the church. Somewhere deep down, he knows that he used to be on the other side.
The 101st Fighting Keyboarders have been in need of a new way to signal their toughness; baying for blood in Baghdad from Washington DC or Provincetown tends to run into diminishing returns after a while. So the fearless Andrew Sullivan and Christopher Hitchens make their latest leap for Orwellian flights of rhetoric via their explicit use of the F*CK word on the web. Hitch has an article about the word in Slate, and Sully links to it and gets in an additional usage along the way, and doubtless both feel thoroughly pumped up afterwards.
Sully follows with the latest of several approving nods to Hitch's bashing of Michael Moore, about which we'll have more to say below, but let's consider Hitch's Slate piece first. As he has long since completed his shift to the reactionary right of his brother Peter (the latter having been against the war in Iraq), his writing has become strained of any coherent substance and all that remains is the withered invective, much like the leftover botanicals used to make a batch of Bombay Sapphire gin. He does try one actual anecdote, and botches it:
The following anecdote appears in one of Niall Ferguson's absorbing studies of the British Empire. On the eve of independence for the colony of South Yemen, the last British governor hosted a dinner party attended by Denis Healey, then the minister for defense. Over the final sundown cocktail, as the flag was about to be lowered over the capital of Aden, the governor turned to Healey and said, "You know, Minister, I believe that in the long view of history, the British Empire will be remembered only for two things." What, Healey was interested to know, were these imperishable aspects? "The game of soccer. And the expression 'f*ck off.' "
This is classic lazy hack journalism. Notice that he couldn't even be bothered to say which Niall F book it is. As it happens, the story appears on page 358 of Empire, but Hitch has thoroughly embellished it. Ferguson simply reports it as a remark made by Richard Turnbull, the penultimate governor of Aden (not the last governor) to Dennis Healey. And of course, Turnbull used the expression "Association Football" but we'll give Hitch a pass on his translation of a supposed direct quote. Because everything else Hitch relays about this anecdote is made up. Ferguson reports no time or context for the apercu -- no dinner party, no flag lowering, no to-and-fro between Dennis Healey and the governor.
Since he made such a hash of a something that he must have known someone could look up, how seriously can we take his other anecdotes, which rely entirely on his own memory? And the tone -- references to Kingsley Amis and the botched foul language of an Egyptian trader in the colonial days -- suggests a particular persona that Hitch seems to want to project for himself: that of the 1950s era cynically wise ex-colonial officer now posted to the UK Embassy in Washington and the life and soul of the State Department WASP dinner parties. Which is quite a journey for the 1960s radical.
And what of Hitch's volunteer duty as lead basher of Michael Moore? He and Sully are on the same page on that one too:
[Sully] "The man is openly on the other side in this war, and the film shows it in every frame." - Hitch, on CNN, telling it like it is. Actually, I think Moore may be objectively on the side of the Jihadists. But subjectively, he simply loathes American market capitalism more than Islamist fundamentalism.
Here we see the return to the "objectively pro-X" terminology of the early post 9/11 days; in this case, the two Oxbridge boys tell the Michigander that he's a traitor. Sullywatch will have plenty to say about Sully's pathologies on this one, but Hitch's fury seems in a class of its own. Basically, we think he's jealous of Moore. Remember what Hitch used to be known for -- the iconoclastic treatments of Mother Teresa and Princess Di. Now the sacred figure is Dubya, but it's Hitch leading the mob to protect the church. Somewhere deep down, he knows that he used to be on the other side.
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
Noted without comment
UK Leader of the Opposition Michael Howard went on a morning soft-focus TV show with his wife, reflecting a Tory strategy to present a softer public image (relative to his enforcer persona from his cabinet days). Amongst the highlights:
Romance bloomed after Mr Howard sent her [his future wife] a copy of F Scott Fitzgerald's Tender Is The Night.
Mr Howard admitted that he is not a "domestic god" although he still would make his wife a cup of tea in the morning.
He and his wife also enjoyed playing table tennis "pretty strenuously" together, which he usually won.
UK Leader of the Opposition Michael Howard went on a morning soft-focus TV show with his wife, reflecting a Tory strategy to present a softer public image (relative to his enforcer persona from his cabinet days). Amongst the highlights:
Romance bloomed after Mr Howard sent her [his future wife] a copy of F Scott Fitzgerald's Tender Is The Night.
Mr Howard admitted that he is not a "domestic god" although he still would make his wife a cup of tea in the morning.
He and his wife also enjoyed playing table tennis "pretty strenuously" together, which he usually won.
It's the BOBW gift books roundup!
Coming in September!
An excerpt from Sammy's Hill, the upcoming "comic" novel by Kristin Gore:
October 2004 release!
"Miracle is a unique project, undertaken by two very gifted and talented artists, Anne Geddes and Celine Dion."
This does not even come close to expressing the creepiness that is the collaboration between this "photographer" and "singer," to be published this fall (as a book, cd, calendar, greeting cards, etc.). If only we could invite you over to look at the advance press materials. If only!
Watch this space for more to come.
Coming in September!
An excerpt from Sammy's Hill, the upcoming "comic" novel by Kristin Gore:
The fact that I had managed to become a health care analyst for a United States senator at the age of twenty-six still surprised me, and I lived in fear that someone would realize how ridiculous it was to have given me this sort of authority and fire me on the spot. ... I owed my passion for government to my mother, a political science professor for whom fostering interest in public service came naturally. ... Under her tutelage, I'd learned early that participation was paramount and that change could be just an effort away.
October 2004 release!
"Miracle is a unique project, undertaken by two very gifted and talented artists, Anne Geddes and Celine Dion."
This does not even come close to expressing the creepiness that is the collaboration between this "photographer" and "singer," to be published this fall (as a book, cd, calendar, greeting cards, etc.). If only we could invite you over to look at the advance press materials. If only!
Watch this space for more to come.
Who knew that teaching economics was this lucrative?
The Wall Street Journal (subs. req'd) has been doing an excellent job of tracking a simmering corruption scandal concerning payoffs that Dick "Go F*ck Yourself" Cheney's old company, Halliburton, may have made in connection with a Nigerian gas project in the mid 1990s. The details of the project itself are the stuff of Cheney's dreams:
[German company] was contracted by [Halliburton joint venture] in 1996 to build the infrastructure required for the world's largest liquefied natural gas (LNG) plant, built on an island in the Nigerian mangrove swamps.
The contract included leveling the approximately 385-acre site, laying about 15 miles of roads and building a nearly 800-yard-long jetty from which the liquefied natural gas would be loaded onto ships.
What Dick's company did for Nigeria then, it can do for the Everglades and Alaska now. But anyway, French investigators have discovered a suspiciously large payment to a London law firm without any clear delivery of services in return, and the money trail seems to lead back to both Nigerian officials and Halliburton executives. Or rather, ex-Halliburton executives, since the company has been distancing itself from anyone whose name pops up in the investigation. But anyway, in a sure sign that the trail is getting hotter, the euphemisms are piling up:
Last month Mr. Marembert [London law firm's spokesman] said in an interview that although Mr. Tesler [the London lawyer] had been to Nigeria only once, he had been paid $130 million by [the Halliburton joint venture] as a fee for work relating to the Bonny Island project.
He qualified Mr. Tesler's work as "economic education" of Nigerian government authorities, persuading them to accept a stake of less than 50% of the LNG plant operating company.
The Wall Street Journal (subs. req'd) has been doing an excellent job of tracking a simmering corruption scandal concerning payoffs that Dick "Go F*ck Yourself" Cheney's old company, Halliburton, may have made in connection with a Nigerian gas project in the mid 1990s. The details of the project itself are the stuff of Cheney's dreams:
[German company] was contracted by [Halliburton joint venture] in 1996 to build the infrastructure required for the world's largest liquefied natural gas (LNG) plant, built on an island in the Nigerian mangrove swamps.
The contract included leveling the approximately 385-acre site, laying about 15 miles of roads and building a nearly 800-yard-long jetty from which the liquefied natural gas would be loaded onto ships.
What Dick's company did for Nigeria then, it can do for the Everglades and Alaska now. But anyway, French investigators have discovered a suspiciously large payment to a London law firm without any clear delivery of services in return, and the money trail seems to lead back to both Nigerian officials and Halliburton executives. Or rather, ex-Halliburton executives, since the company has been distancing itself from anyone whose name pops up in the investigation. But anyway, in a sure sign that the trail is getting hotter, the euphemisms are piling up:
Last month Mr. Marembert [London law firm's spokesman] said in an interview that although Mr. Tesler [the London lawyer] had been to Nigeria only once, he had been paid $130 million by [the Halliburton joint venture] as a fee for work relating to the Bonny Island project.
He qualified Mr. Tesler's work as "economic education" of Nigerian government authorities, persuading them to accept a stake of less than 50% of the LNG plant operating company.
Monday, July 05, 2004
Of Irish Interest
A busy weekend of Irish links in the New York Times. This article discusses comedian Dylan Moran's attempt to make it big in New York City, including getting tutelage in delivering optimally timed laughs from a local expert. And the shock waves from RTE's Carol Coleman standing up to Dubya continue to reverbate; she gets an article and an editorial in the Sunday NYT.
A busy weekend of Irish links in the New York Times. This article discusses comedian Dylan Moran's attempt to make it big in New York City, including getting tutelage in delivering optimally timed laughs from a local expert. And the shock waves from RTE's Carol Coleman standing up to Dubya continue to reverbate; she gets an article and an editorial in the Sunday NYT.
We don't know whether he's also Hot For Teacher
At a Saturday campaign event featuring Dick "Go F*ck Yourself" Cheney, the intro music was Van Halen's Right Now. Amongst the lines to this song, perhaps Dick's analysis of the past and expectations for the future:
Miss the beat, you lose the rhythm,
And nothing falls into place, no
Only missed by a fraction,
Slipped a little off your pace, oh,
The more things you get, the more you want,
If he's taking that last line seriously, we're especially worried.
UPDATE: Sullywatch offers this extended post on hijacking of words for purposes beyond their original intention, beginning with poetry and moving to a funny riff on We Will Rock You at the end.
At a Saturday campaign event featuring Dick "Go F*ck Yourself" Cheney, the intro music was Van Halen's Right Now. Amongst the lines to this song, perhaps Dick's analysis of the past and expectations for the future:
Miss the beat, you lose the rhythm,
And nothing falls into place, no
Only missed by a fraction,
Slipped a little off your pace, oh,
The more things you get, the more you want,
If he's taking that last line seriously, we're especially worried.
UPDATE: Sullywatch offers this extended post on hijacking of words for purposes beyond their original intention, beginning with poetry and moving to a funny riff on We Will Rock You at the end.
Saturday, July 03, 2004
The plague of migratory hacks begins
It is July. Which means a new season of op-ed columns -- that written by our glorious pundits while on their holidays, consisting of little more than their previously frozen views, spiced with some supposedly relevant observation from their Grand Tour. One of the noteworthy things about the pundit vacation is how quickly they flee hoi polloi when it's their own precious time on the table; sure, it's nice to sing the virtues of the common man and Dubya's effortless touch with said creature the rest of the year, but now it's our time to live and that means some combination of long flights, ferry trips, and fancy hotels -- whatever it takes to keep the average beneficiaries of Dubya's tax cuts at a safe distance.
For Tim Russert, who spends the rest of the year being from Ireland and Buffalo, that means Nantucket. While for Reagan groupie and Wall Street Journal columnist Peggy Noonan, it means Mayfair in London. Roger Ailes (not the bald repulsive one) catches the normally decorous Peggy using retard as a noun in her London postcard to her readers, but when following the link to the same piece, we were equally struck by this:
History has been too dramatic the past 3 1/2 years. It has been too exciting. Economic recession, 9/11, war, Afghanistan, Iraq, fighting with Europe. fighting with the U.N., boys going off to fight, Pat Tillman, beheadings. It has been so exciting.
After you've taken another look at the things Peggy finds exciting, contemplate the horror that this woman may actually be representative of influential neocon opinion -- which makes Dubya's apparent incompetence in pursuing the War on Terror seem like it might be part of a deliberate stratgegy. Terrorism is exciting!
It is July. Which means a new season of op-ed columns -- that written by our glorious pundits while on their holidays, consisting of little more than their previously frozen views, spiced with some supposedly relevant observation from their Grand Tour. One of the noteworthy things about the pundit vacation is how quickly they flee hoi polloi when it's their own precious time on the table; sure, it's nice to sing the virtues of the common man and Dubya's effortless touch with said creature the rest of the year, but now it's our time to live and that means some combination of long flights, ferry trips, and fancy hotels -- whatever it takes to keep the average beneficiaries of Dubya's tax cuts at a safe distance.
For Tim Russert, who spends the rest of the year being from Ireland and Buffalo, that means Nantucket. While for Reagan groupie and Wall Street Journal columnist Peggy Noonan, it means Mayfair in London. Roger Ailes (not the bald repulsive one) catches the normally decorous Peggy using retard as a noun in her London postcard to her readers, but when following the link to the same piece, we were equally struck by this:
History has been too dramatic the past 3 1/2 years. It has been too exciting. Economic recession, 9/11, war, Afghanistan, Iraq, fighting with Europe. fighting with the U.N., boys going off to fight, Pat Tillman, beheadings. It has been so exciting.
After you've taken another look at the things Peggy finds exciting, contemplate the horror that this woman may actually be representative of influential neocon opinion -- which makes Dubya's apparent incompetence in pursuing the War on Terror seem like it might be part of a deliberate stratgegy. Terrorism is exciting!
Friday, July 02, 2004
Was he reading My Pet Goat to the kids, or for himself?
From the Wall Street Journal [subs.req'd]:
In an early scene in Michael Moore's film...President Bush sits before a Florida elementary school class on Sept. 11, perusing the pages of "The Pet Goat," the story's real title. After being told that both World Trade Center towers have been hit, Mr. Bush remains fixed in his chair....
The story is contained in a book called "Reading Mastery: Rainbow Edition, Level 2, Storybook 1," a school reading aid offered by SRA/McGraw-Hill...
From the Wall Street Journal [subs.req'd]:
In an early scene in Michael Moore's film...President Bush sits before a Florida elementary school class on Sept. 11, perusing the pages of "The Pet Goat," the story's real title. After being told that both World Trade Center towers have been hit, Mr. Bush remains fixed in his chair....
The story is contained in a book called "Reading Mastery: Rainbow Edition, Level 2, Storybook 1," a school reading aid offered by SRA/McGraw-Hill...
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Plus ca change
[NY Times] Some administration officials, speaking to reporters on the condition that their names not be used, said they believed Mr. Bush and his aides were unprepared for how broadly and decisively the court struck down the practice of indefinite detention without hearings in almost all cases of the enemy combatants.
[NY Times] Some administration officials, speaking to reporters on the condition that their names not be used, said they believed Mr. Bush and his aides were unprepared for how broadly and decisively the court struck down the practice of indefinite detention without hearings in almost all cases of the enemy combatants.
The sin of overidentification
We have in the past, along with other intrepid bloggers, noted Andrew Sullivan's fluctuating attachment to his English-Irish-Gay-Catholic identity, which is quite often deployed as a badge of distinctiveness from the Evangenical Protestant hordes of Bush and Rove when Sullivan is disillusioned with them, as he recently has been. We now find ourselves wondering if this led him to excessive gullibility in his recent New York Times book review of Tony Hendra's book Father Joe (anchor for cultural illiterates like us: Hendra was the manager in Spinal Tap). Hendra recounts how a sexual escapade with the neighbour's wife when he was 14 led, via his punishment for this episode, to a lifetime of spiritual ministering by the Catholic monk of the book's title. Sullivan gave the book a rave review from the prize pulpit of the lead review in the Sunday NYT book review a few weeks ago, which no doubt played some role in the book's excellent sales.
Subsequent revelations have not maintained the rapturous reception. First, Sullywatch highlighted a followup letter to the NYT from Tap's Lenny disputing Sullivan's unquestioned repetition of Hendra's claimed role in creating the movie. But now things are getting downright disturbing. Prompted by the supposed confessional tone of the book, Hendra's oldest daughter has come forward to complain that he molested her as a child, which is nowhere mentioned in the book.
So what's the Sully angle? Well, our view is that Sully's eagerness to find a fellow English self-styled non-conformist seeking refuge in the spirituality of the Catholic church led him to be too unquestioning about Hendra's story, right down to the claimed architecture of Spinal Tap. But more seriously, our first reaction upon reading the opening anecdote of the review was: he's 14 and he's about to have sex with the married woman next door? We know Ireland and England are different, but nothing about our own teenage years helped that story ring any more true. There's a field day of psychology here in how Sully may have projected his own turmoil onto Hendra's apparently redemptive tale, and it will be worth watching how he reacts as this surely messy controversy plays out over the next few days. We will update as necessary.
We have in the past, along with other intrepid bloggers, noted Andrew Sullivan's fluctuating attachment to his English-Irish-Gay-Catholic identity, which is quite often deployed as a badge of distinctiveness from the Evangenical Protestant hordes of Bush and Rove when Sullivan is disillusioned with them, as he recently has been. We now find ourselves wondering if this led him to excessive gullibility in his recent New York Times book review of Tony Hendra's book Father Joe (anchor for cultural illiterates like us: Hendra was the manager in Spinal Tap). Hendra recounts how a sexual escapade with the neighbour's wife when he was 14 led, via his punishment for this episode, to a lifetime of spiritual ministering by the Catholic monk of the book's title. Sullivan gave the book a rave review from the prize pulpit of the lead review in the Sunday NYT book review a few weeks ago, which no doubt played some role in the book's excellent sales.
Subsequent revelations have not maintained the rapturous reception. First, Sullywatch highlighted a followup letter to the NYT from Tap's Lenny disputing Sullivan's unquestioned repetition of Hendra's claimed role in creating the movie. But now things are getting downright disturbing. Prompted by the supposed confessional tone of the book, Hendra's oldest daughter has come forward to complain that he molested her as a child, which is nowhere mentioned in the book.
So what's the Sully angle? Well, our view is that Sully's eagerness to find a fellow English self-styled non-conformist seeking refuge in the spirituality of the Catholic church led him to be too unquestioning about Hendra's story, right down to the claimed architecture of Spinal Tap. But more seriously, our first reaction upon reading the opening anecdote of the review was: he's 14 and he's about to have sex with the married woman next door? We know Ireland and England are different, but nothing about our own teenage years helped that story ring any more true. There's a field day of psychology here in how Sully may have projected his own turmoil onto Hendra's apparently redemptive tale, and it will be worth watching how he reacts as this surely messy controversy plays out over the next few days. We will update as necessary.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
The Oirish Comedy Hour
Ray Houghton is a legend of Irish soccer. Two key goals for the Republic over a lengthy career playing for the national team. But what in God's name was he thinking when participating in an effort to provide a few laughs for Britain's ITV on Sunday night? From today's Irish Times (subs. req'd):
When Houghton, who was born in Scotland, was asked if he considered himself to be "really Irish", he was shown dressed up as a leprechaun, a potato and as a Jean Butler [Riverdance] lookalike.
However, most complaints arose when Houghton was seen standing beside what appeared to be a paramilitary gunman dressed in a khaki army jacket and a balaclava.
The Irish soccer hero, best remembered for his goals against England and against Italy in the 1994 World Cup, was also shown standing beside [one of the hosts] when the comic impersonated Shane McGowan clutching a bottle of whiskey.
And after Bertie Ahern had said such nice things to the English the other day. Such ingratitude.
Ray Houghton is a legend of Irish soccer. Two key goals for the Republic over a lengthy career playing for the national team. But what in God's name was he thinking when participating in an effort to provide a few laughs for Britain's ITV on Sunday night? From today's Irish Times (subs. req'd):
When Houghton, who was born in Scotland, was asked if he considered himself to be "really Irish", he was shown dressed up as a leprechaun, a potato and as a Jean Butler [Riverdance] lookalike.
However, most complaints arose when Houghton was seen standing beside what appeared to be a paramilitary gunman dressed in a khaki army jacket and a balaclava.
The Irish soccer hero, best remembered for his goals against England and against Italy in the 1994 World Cup, was also shown standing beside [one of the hosts] when the comic impersonated Shane McGowan clutching a bottle of whiskey.
And after Bertie Ahern had said such nice things to the English the other day. Such ingratitude.
An Irish voice for the Bronx Cheer
At last night's Yankees vs Red Sox game at Yankee Stadium, Dick Cheney was in attendance. In what is a regular Yankees tradition, Irish tenor Ronan Tynan sang God Bless America during the 7th inning stretch; Cheney's picture appeared on the stadium screen, and in a politer version of Cheney's preferred insult (Go F*** Yourself), he was booed. Incidentally, we had hoped to pull a quote from the New York Times story which had described the incident -- but weirdly, although the print edition had it in full detail, the relevant sentences are gone from the web version, and the booing (minus the Ronan mention) is relegated to a side story about Cheney's pop-in. Is the NYT scared of making Cheney's unpopularity too explicit?
UPDATE: Atrios has also been tracking the changes in the NYT web version, which removed the part about Cheney being booed from the game report.
UPDATE: Atrios has also been tracking the changes in the NYT web version, which removed the part about Cheney being booed from the game report.
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
DeValera's Revenge
The big news theme over the last week has been Dubya's summitry. Watching his trip to Ireland had us invoking the expression You'll Never Beat the Irish -- and not in our standard cynical way either. Because to their credit, it looks as if those Irish who put their mind to it did manage to needle Dubya quite effectively. There were three incidents.
First, widely noted, was RTE's Washington correspondent, Carol Coleman, being combative with Dubya in what he expected to be his standard 15 minute scripted interview with a journalist from whatever country is next on his itinerary. Instead it became clear that Ms Coleman saw that she was just getting the rote answers to the previously submitted questions -- a White House requirement -- and tried to interrupt to get in some followups before Dubya could run out the clock. He did manage to run out the clock, but looked sullen doing it. Which is more than the great Saint Tim Russert of Buffalo ever managed with Dubya.
Second, a quick photographer managed to catch the Emperor in his white undershirt** closing the curtains at Dromoland Castle, the Irish golf resort chosen for the next summit after the G8 summit held at the Georgia golf resort (the one at which Taoiseach Bertie Ahern wore the yellow trousers).
And finally, DeValera's revenge. The world will know DeValera as having the face of Alan Rickman, reflecting Neil Jordan's little extra dig (on top of the Michael Collins screenplay itself) of having Dev, the self-styled personification of Irish nationalism, played by someone noted for his portrayal of English-accented bad guys. Dev's heartland is Ennis, County Clare, just a few miles from where the EU-US summit was taking place. And Bertie Ahern had spent the whole weekend working on getting DeValera spinning in his grave. On the Friday, he held a news conference with Tony Blair and bantered with the assembled English hacks about his support for the England soccer team (which he justified by his support for Man Utd) and his belief that they had a goal unfairly disqualified in the defeat to Portugal. Which they had, but is this a fit topic for a news conference?
And from there it was down to Dromoland to meet the arriving Dubya. On Saturday, Dubya and Bertie were due to give the triumphant post-summit news conference at 1.30pm Irish time. Strangely enough, the seven-point summit declaration had already been released long before the summit had concluded, but the photo-op gods must be appeased. As the time approached, the cameras were trained on...the empty seats where the Washington "press corps" was supposed to be, in their usual roles of providing an appearance of an audience and asking fawning questions. The minutes passed, and still no hacks. Eventually word came that a sit-down protest had delayed their arrival from Ennis, where they had been staying and from which they were being bussed to Dubya's bubble.
The buses finally arrived about 45 minutes late -- delaying Dubya's departure for Turkey, and we laughed and laughed and laughed at the site of the besuited "press corps" sprinting up the avenue to take their seats. The poor things hadn't run as fast since the sprint to get copies of the report of Johann van der Smut (aka Ken Starr) into the grave matter of Bill Clinton's affair with an intern. And then the questions to Bertie and Dubya came, and most were about NATO, which was not the subject of the summit, and of which Ireland is not a member, reflecting Dev's constitutional enshrinement of neutrality. We think the protestors had some ghostly inspiration.
UPDATE: The shock of a journalist standing up to Dubya still reverberates through Washington one week later. This Washington Post piece rounds up some of the official fallout, including a complaint to the Irish Embassy. Blogistan followup via Crooked Timber.
**FURTHER UPDATE 21 MAY 2005. Our original link to the Bush undershirt photo was busted and the photo turns out to be incredibly difficult to find on the web. We stated above that it was taken by a photographer but in fact it was a grab from a video camera that was trained at his window. We were reminded to fix this post by a sitemeter referral showing us that people are looking for the Bush picture -- presumably to contrast the White House expunging of it from the Internets with their attitude to the Saddam Sun photos. Our new link doesn't have the Bush shot (which apparently was pulled with legal threats by the Irish EU Presidency) but it has images of newspapers which did run it, including what looks like a fake one.
The big news theme over the last week has been Dubya's summitry. Watching his trip to Ireland had us invoking the expression You'll Never Beat the Irish -- and not in our standard cynical way either. Because to their credit, it looks as if those Irish who put their mind to it did manage to needle Dubya quite effectively. There were three incidents.
First, widely noted, was RTE's Washington correspondent, Carol Coleman, being combative with Dubya in what he expected to be his standard 15 minute scripted interview with a journalist from whatever country is next on his itinerary. Instead it became clear that Ms Coleman saw that she was just getting the rote answers to the previously submitted questions -- a White House requirement -- and tried to interrupt to get in some followups before Dubya could run out the clock. He did manage to run out the clock, but looked sullen doing it. Which is more than the great Saint Tim Russert of Buffalo ever managed with Dubya.
Second, a quick photographer managed to catch the Emperor in his white undershirt** closing the curtains at Dromoland Castle, the Irish golf resort chosen for the next summit after the G8 summit held at the Georgia golf resort (the one at which Taoiseach Bertie Ahern wore the yellow trousers).
And finally, DeValera's revenge. The world will know DeValera as having the face of Alan Rickman, reflecting Neil Jordan's little extra dig (on top of the Michael Collins screenplay itself) of having Dev, the self-styled personification of Irish nationalism, played by someone noted for his portrayal of English-accented bad guys. Dev's heartland is Ennis, County Clare, just a few miles from where the EU-US summit was taking place. And Bertie Ahern had spent the whole weekend working on getting DeValera spinning in his grave. On the Friday, he held a news conference with Tony Blair and bantered with the assembled English hacks about his support for the England soccer team (which he justified by his support for Man Utd) and his belief that they had a goal unfairly disqualified in the defeat to Portugal. Which they had, but is this a fit topic for a news conference?
And from there it was down to Dromoland to meet the arriving Dubya. On Saturday, Dubya and Bertie were due to give the triumphant post-summit news conference at 1.30pm Irish time. Strangely enough, the seven-point summit declaration had already been released long before the summit had concluded, but the photo-op gods must be appeased. As the time approached, the cameras were trained on...the empty seats where the Washington "press corps" was supposed to be, in their usual roles of providing an appearance of an audience and asking fawning questions. The minutes passed, and still no hacks. Eventually word came that a sit-down protest had delayed their arrival from Ennis, where they had been staying and from which they were being bussed to Dubya's bubble.
The buses finally arrived about 45 minutes late -- delaying Dubya's departure for Turkey, and we laughed and laughed and laughed at the site of the besuited "press corps" sprinting up the avenue to take their seats. The poor things hadn't run as fast since the sprint to get copies of the report of Johann van der Smut (aka Ken Starr) into the grave matter of Bill Clinton's affair with an intern. And then the questions to Bertie and Dubya came, and most were about NATO, which was not the subject of the summit, and of which Ireland is not a member, reflecting Dev's constitutional enshrinement of neutrality. We think the protestors had some ghostly inspiration.
UPDATE: The shock of a journalist standing up to Dubya still reverberates through Washington one week later. This Washington Post piece rounds up some of the official fallout, including a complaint to the Irish Embassy. Blogistan followup via Crooked Timber.
**FURTHER UPDATE 21 MAY 2005. Our original link to the Bush undershirt photo was busted and the photo turns out to be incredibly difficult to find on the web. We stated above that it was taken by a photographer but in fact it was a grab from a video camera that was trained at his window. We were reminded to fix this post by a sitemeter referral showing us that people are looking for the Bush picture -- presumably to contrast the White House expunging of it from the Internets with their attitude to the Saddam Sun photos. Our new link doesn't have the Bush shot (which apparently was pulled with legal threats by the Irish EU Presidency) but it has images of newspapers which did run it, including what looks like a fake one.
Retooled
Our legions of readers will be delighted to hear that P O'Neill has returned from his eastern flight, which had been prompted by a search for more favourable TV and time zone access to the European Football Championships. Sadly, we couldn't quite string out the trip long enough to cover the entire tournament, leaving us in the clutches of the Irish monopolists Setanta for the semifinals and the final. But we were delighted to see upon our return that long silent blog partner R Morgenstern resurfaced to provide with excellent posts in our absence. Incidentally, fans of R. can see some old posts here and here. So we are hoping to maintain the blog as more of a joint effort -- as reflected in its name -- from now on. And now back to our usual subjects.
Our legions of readers will be delighted to hear that P O'Neill has returned from his eastern flight, which had been prompted by a search for more favourable TV and time zone access to the European Football Championships. Sadly, we couldn't quite string out the trip long enough to cover the entire tournament, leaving us in the clutches of the Irish monopolists Setanta for the semifinals and the final. But we were delighted to see upon our return that long silent blog partner R Morgenstern resurfaced to provide with excellent posts in our absence. Incidentally, fans of R. can see some old posts here and here. So we are hoping to maintain the blog as more of a joint effort -- as reflected in its name -- from now on. And now back to our usual subjects.
Pigs still not airborne
The least surprising news of the day: The triumverate on the US Supreme Court who formed the lynchpin of the Bush v Gore decision stick together again in Bush v Magna Carta:
In the Guantanamo case, the court ruled, 6 to 3, that federal courts have the jurisdiction to consider challenges to the custody of foreigners. The finding repudiated a central argument of the administration...The dissenters were Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist and Justices Thomas and Antonin Scalia.
Is there anything that Dubya wants that these three won't vote for?
The least surprising news of the day: The triumverate on the US Supreme Court who formed the lynchpin of the Bush v Gore decision stick together again in Bush v Magna Carta:
In the Guantanamo case, the court ruled, 6 to 3, that federal courts have the jurisdiction to consider challenges to the custody of foreigners. The finding repudiated a central argument of the administration...The dissenters were Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist and Justices Thomas and Antonin Scalia.
Is there anything that Dubya wants that these three won't vote for?
Monday, June 28, 2004
Futile, indeed
Okay, we admit it: We've been strangely silent on the Seven of Nine/Scary Republican divorce papers fracas. Mostly it's because the thought of Jeri-Lynn doing anything with that creep is so upsetting. But then we forced ourselves to read the court documents (filed by the allusively named firm of Trope & Trope), and found this intriguing tidbit from her description of the events:
The clubs in New York and Paris were explicit sex clubs. Respondent had done research. Respondent took me to two clubs in New York during the day. One club I refused to go in. It had mattresses in cubicles. The other club he insisted I go to. Respondent did not like to go out to dinner, and we went out to dinner together that night. He said the least I could do in return was go to the club....
Typically, of course, what interests us is not the quid pro quo ("you made me eat food, now you have to have sex with me in front of other people in a skeezy club!"), but the idea of this research project on which the investment banker-cum-teacher had embarked. Did he just google "sex club new york"? Use Nexis? Assign it to an intern?
In any case, he's probably regretting that one of his early campaign events seems to have been named for one of filmdom's most famous sex clubs.
Okay, we admit it: We've been strangely silent on the Seven of Nine/Scary Republican divorce papers fracas. Mostly it's because the thought of Jeri-Lynn doing anything with that creep is so upsetting. But then we forced ourselves to read the court documents (filed by the allusively named firm of Trope & Trope), and found this intriguing tidbit from her description of the events:
The clubs in New York and Paris were explicit sex clubs. Respondent had done research. Respondent took me to two clubs in New York during the day. One club I refused to go in. It had mattresses in cubicles. The other club he insisted I go to. Respondent did not like to go out to dinner, and we went out to dinner together that night. He said the least I could do in return was go to the club....
Typically, of course, what interests us is not the quid pro quo ("you made me eat food, now you have to have sex with me in front of other people in a skeezy club!"), but the idea of this research project on which the investment banker-cum-teacher had embarked. Did he just google "sex club new york"? Use Nexis? Assign it to an intern?
In any case, he's probably regretting that one of his early campaign events seems to have been named for one of filmdom's most famous sex clubs.
Thursday, June 24, 2004
Unfortunate Clintonian phrasing
From page 776 of My Life, speaking of how his relationship with Monica Lewinsky had put Hillary in the position of having to answer tough questions from their critics:
"Finally, after years of dry holes, I had given them something to work with."
We find this nearly as painful as the unfortunate facial hair of Celebrity Poker Showdown, or that wretched Trapt video where Michelle Trachtenberg proves she's not a little girl/ball of cosmic energy any more.
Thankfully, we can buck ourselves up by considering what Hamid Karzai thinks of Washington Times readers (be sure to click for larger image).
From page 776 of My Life, speaking of how his relationship with Monica Lewinsky had put Hillary in the position of having to answer tough questions from their critics:
"Finally, after years of dry holes, I had given them something to work with."
We find this nearly as painful as the unfortunate facial hair of Celebrity Poker Showdown, or that wretched Trapt video where Michelle Trachtenberg proves she's not a little girl/ball of cosmic energy any more.
Thankfully, we can buck ourselves up by considering what Hamid Karzai thinks of Washington Times readers (be sure to click for larger image).
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Carry on up the Nile
Apologies to our readers for the lack of postings recently, a drought that will likely continue until this day week. P O’Neill has retreated from his US domicile to seek better Euro 2004 football viewing opportunities at an undisclosed location somewhere in Egypt. So for instance, last night’s England vs Croatia match was watched with Arabic commentary, on a broadcast featuring a half-time analyst who seemed more concerned about the nature of the tackling than the goals. And then we would flick over to German commentary on the France vs Switzerland match. The Germans were helpfully providing extensive highlights from the England match, and of course German is really not that difficult to understand, especially when during one of those highlight clips they referred to Wayne Rooney as das europa meister .
Meanwhile, the locals tell us of their amusement at Americans denying that they are American when they obviously are. Apparently, changing the name of region in Dubya’s speeches from Greater Middle East to Broader Middle East was not a swing issue for the locals. Further thoughts when we return to the clutches of Euro 2004 pay per view next week.
Apologies to our readers for the lack of postings recently, a drought that will likely continue until this day week. P O’Neill has retreated from his US domicile to seek better Euro 2004 football viewing opportunities at an undisclosed location somewhere in Egypt. So for instance, last night’s England vs Croatia match was watched with Arabic commentary, on a broadcast featuring a half-time analyst who seemed more concerned about the nature of the tackling than the goals. And then we would flick over to German commentary on the France vs Switzerland match. The Germans were helpfully providing extensive highlights from the England match, and of course German is really not that difficult to understand, especially when during one of those highlight clips they referred to Wayne Rooney as das europa meister .
Meanwhile, the locals tell us of their amusement at Americans denying that they are American when they obviously are. Apparently, changing the name of region in Dubya’s speeches from Greater Middle East to Broader Middle East was not a swing issue for the locals. Further thoughts when we return to the clutches of Euro 2004 pay per view next week.
Friday, June 18, 2004
Tell us something we don't know
Another American -- after Daniel Pearl and Nick Berg -- is kidnapped and beheaded by Islamic extremists. Two reactions. First, condemnation by politicians is a thoroughly devalued currency at this stage. What's the point? Surprisingly, it's Colin Powell who manages to sound more cliched and idiotic than his boss on this one:
Mr. Powell added, "If anything, it will cause us — I'm quite confident, it will cause our Saudi colleagues — to redouble our efforts to go after terrorists...
So sometimes we're "redoubling" and other times we're already doing everything we can. If you can't say anything sensible, then don't say anything at all.
And where Colin sees a bright side of redoubled efforts, Andrew Sullivan sees a TV news editor instruction:
Will the networks show these images? They absolutely should.
Has he thought about the moral hazard of terrorists knowing that they can get on the TV news by videotaping their killings?
Another American -- after Daniel Pearl and Nick Berg -- is kidnapped and beheaded by Islamic extremists. Two reactions. First, condemnation by politicians is a thoroughly devalued currency at this stage. What's the point? Surprisingly, it's Colin Powell who manages to sound more cliched and idiotic than his boss on this one:
Mr. Powell added, "If anything, it will cause us — I'm quite confident, it will cause our Saudi colleagues — to redouble our efforts to go after terrorists...
So sometimes we're "redoubling" and other times we're already doing everything we can. If you can't say anything sensible, then don't say anything at all.
And where Colin sees a bright side of redoubled efforts, Andrew Sullivan sees a TV news editor instruction:
Will the networks show these images? They absolutely should.
Has he thought about the moral hazard of terrorists knowing that they can get on the TV news by videotaping their killings?
European Union summit gets Gitmo-ised
Earlier, Dick Roche, Irish minister for European Affairs, said leaders were "tantalizingly close" to a deal and only "finessing" final details. No dinner was being served "in an effort to spur them to a deal," he added.
An American contract interrogator at Iraq's Abu Ghraib prison described in January interrogation tactics that included a "Sleep/Meal Management Program" using sleep deprivation and diet manipulation to try to get prisoners to give up their secrets.
Earlier, Dick Roche, Irish minister for European Affairs, said leaders were "tantalizingly close" to a deal and only "finessing" final details. No dinner was being served "in an effort to spur them to a deal," he added.
An American contract interrogator at Iraq's Abu Ghraib prison described in January interrogation tactics that included a "Sleep/Meal Management Program" using sleep deprivation and diet manipulation to try to get prisoners to give up their secrets.
Thursday, June 17, 2004
Sartorially Disqualified
Various important meetings are taking place in Europe over the next few days -- on football pitches in Portugal. Then there's a European Union summit. We have posted a few times about Ireland holding the rotating presidency of the 25 country EU, but all the initial energy that the presidency seemed to generate has thoroughly dissipated with the drubbing that governing parties took in the recent EU parliament elections-- to which a huge majority of voters delivered the worst insult of all but just not showing up.
But anyway, between trips to the TV to keep up on things on Portugal, our besuited betters in Europe are hoping to hash out a deal on a bible-sized constitution and on who will be the next President of the European Commission (the closest thing that the EU has to a chief executive). Henry at the Crooked Timber blog has tried to take the latter process seriously and provided brief profiles of the relevant candidates. Bizarrely, one of the blushing candidates is the chairman of the summit, Bertie Ahern.
Bertie is currently straddling two worlds -- that of international statesman, attending the G8 summit in Georgia last week, and that of parish pump Irish politician, enduring the slings and arrows of the Republic's politics and media -- who basically want to know: what was the deal with the yellow trousers? We watched the summit coverage last week on the BBC and like everyone else noticed Bertie's odd atire during Dubya's casual beach walk for the summiteers -- the other world leaders had their smart casual look (sober jacket, open necked shirt, dark trousers). But there was Bertie in what looked like a cream coloured jacket and yellow trousers. The jibes have not stopped since. During questions in the Dail (parliament) on Wednesday:
[Mr Ahern] "In regard to the job in Europe [Commission President], I think that if I was really interested in that job that I would have that job.
"However, when it comes to getting 1 million euro for working in Europe or staying at home to do the job I like doing, I will continue to do this job." Labour leader Pat Rabbitte suggested that when Chancellor Schröder "saw the gear in Savannah, that's what did it. You had it up to then. You had it in the bag."
Fine Gael's Bernard Durkan agreed. "It was the yellow trousers that did it."
On Tuesday, Bertie's defence was:
"I had to put a bit of colour into the place," Mr Ahern said as he came in for sustained criticism from the opposition leaders for his fashion crimes.
The fact that Bertie is even a candidate for this job forces us to the conclusion that EU-level politics is even more dysfunctional that we thought. For one thing, Bertie's estimate of what the job pays is off by about 900,000 euro. But anyway, even if our Continental partners wanted someone harmless in the top job, their fashion sense is probably just too offended by now. Onwards and upwards with the prime minister of Luxembourg, and his grey trousers.
[One minor mystery is why Bertie does not appear to be wearing the yellow trousers in the official group photo (also here), which apparently took place on the same walk]
But anyway, between trips to the TV to keep up on things on Portugal, our besuited betters in Europe are hoping to hash out a deal on a bible-sized constitution and on who will be the next President of the European Commission (the closest thing that the EU has to a chief executive). Henry at the Crooked Timber blog has tried to take the latter process seriously and provided brief profiles of the relevant candidates. Bizarrely, one of the blushing candidates is the chairman of the summit, Bertie Ahern.
Bertie is currently straddling two worlds -- that of international statesman, attending the G8 summit in Georgia last week, and that of parish pump Irish politician, enduring the slings and arrows of the Republic's politics and media -- who basically want to know: what was the deal with the yellow trousers? We watched the summit coverage last week on the BBC and like everyone else noticed Bertie's odd atire during Dubya's casual beach walk for the summiteers -- the other world leaders had their smart casual look (sober jacket, open necked shirt, dark trousers). But there was Bertie in what looked like a cream coloured jacket and yellow trousers. The jibes have not stopped since. During questions in the Dail (parliament) on Wednesday:
[Mr Ahern] "In regard to the job in Europe [Commission President], I think that if I was really interested in that job that I would have that job.
"However, when it comes to getting 1 million euro for working in Europe or staying at home to do the job I like doing, I will continue to do this job." Labour leader Pat Rabbitte suggested that when Chancellor Schröder "saw the gear in Savannah, that's what did it. You had it up to then. You had it in the bag."
Fine Gael's Bernard Durkan agreed. "It was the yellow trousers that did it."
On Tuesday, Bertie's defence was:
"I had to put a bit of colour into the place," Mr Ahern said as he came in for sustained criticism from the opposition leaders for his fashion crimes.
The fact that Bertie is even a candidate for this job forces us to the conclusion that EU-level politics is even more dysfunctional that we thought. For one thing, Bertie's estimate of what the job pays is off by about 900,000 euro. But anyway, even if our Continental partners wanted someone harmless in the top job, their fashion sense is probably just too offended by now. Onwards and upwards with the prime minister of Luxembourg, and his grey trousers.
[One minor mystery is why Bertie does not appear to be wearing the yellow trousers in the official group photo (also here), which apparently took place on the same walk]
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Bloomsday Inflation
From the Irish Times daily update (may require subs.) report on ReJoyce 2004, two signs of inflation -- in prices and weather:
...especially with a breakfast roll and a pint of Guinness costing 12 euro [about $14]...the weather on this day in 1904 was cool and breezy with a temperature of about 16 degrees, nothing as pleasant as the sunny 24 degrees predicted for today...
It's difficult not to wonder how the modern Ireland and that of Bloomsday would compare to each other; the Shamrockshire Eagle doubtless reflects a widespread opinion that it's not a flattering comparison. That mention of euro prices above has us visualising a present-day Dubliner, transported back in time to 1904 to Davy Byrne's and asking the barman the same way they yell at the Warrington Ikea, "Do ya take euros?"
From the Irish Times daily update (may require subs.) report on ReJoyce 2004, two signs of inflation -- in prices and weather:
...especially with a breakfast roll and a pint of Guinness costing 12 euro [about $14]...the weather on this day in 1904 was cool and breezy with a temperature of about 16 degrees, nothing as pleasant as the sunny 24 degrees predicted for today...
It's difficult not to wonder how the modern Ireland and that of Bloomsday would compare to each other; the Shamrockshire Eagle doubtless reflects a widespread opinion that it's not a flattering comparison. That mention of euro prices above has us visualising a present-day Dubliner, transported back in time to 1904 to Davy Byrne's and asking the barman the same way they yell at the Warrington Ikea, "Do ya take euros?"
Washington is worth a Mass
In the bizarre world of US politics, the Catholic candidate for President is under pressure to make his policy positions conform to Vatican doctrine, while the born-again Methodist incumbent -- who promoted a war condemned by the Vatican, favours the death penalty, and loaded his tax cuts towards the wealthy -- rushes to enlist the Pope to put pressure on US bishops to support his positions. And if it wasn't for bloggers, this state of affairs would not be attracting much comment.
Just how big a show of symbolism is Dubya prepared to make in the quest for the supposed "Catholic vote?" We couldn't help but notice this item from today's Washington Post:
The Associated Press reports: "Bodyguards for President Bush's daughter were entangled in a fist fight with two men trying to steal a cell phone in southern Spain, a U.S. Embassy official said Tuesday. "
AFP reports that Jenna Bush was in Spain to take part "in a religious pilgrimage in Spain, walking up to 30 kilometers (20 miles) a day on the way to Santiago de Compostela."
Leaving aside the fact that Jenna probably broke Texas law by not shooting the two miscreants on the spot, note that the daughter of the born-again Methodist is doing a very Catholic pilgrimage, one that honours St James the Apostle, as opposed to a direct focus on Dubya's favourite political philosopher, Jesus himself. is Dubya planning to have at least one family member flip-flop on their religious affiliation before November?
In the bizarre world of US politics, the Catholic candidate for President is under pressure to make his policy positions conform to Vatican doctrine, while the born-again Methodist incumbent -- who promoted a war condemned by the Vatican, favours the death penalty, and loaded his tax cuts towards the wealthy -- rushes to enlist the Pope to put pressure on US bishops to support his positions. And if it wasn't for bloggers, this state of affairs would not be attracting much comment.
Just how big a show of symbolism is Dubya prepared to make in the quest for the supposed "Catholic vote?" We couldn't help but notice this item from today's Washington Post:
The Associated Press reports: "Bodyguards for President Bush's daughter were entangled in a fist fight with two men trying to steal a cell phone in southern Spain, a U.S. Embassy official said Tuesday. "
AFP reports that Jenna Bush was in Spain to take part "in a religious pilgrimage in Spain, walking up to 30 kilometers (20 miles) a day on the way to Santiago de Compostela."
Leaving aside the fact that Jenna probably broke Texas law by not shooting the two miscreants on the spot, note that the daughter of the born-again Methodist is doing a very Catholic pilgrimage, one that honours St James the Apostle, as opposed to a direct focus on Dubya's favourite political philosopher, Jesus himself. is Dubya planning to have at least one family member flip-flop on their religious affiliation before November?
The investor formerly known as Bono
In perhaps a sign that the tech bubble is back, U2's Bono is becoming an investor in a Silicon Valley venture capital group called Elevation Partners. The Wall Street Journal has all the details in this article (subs. req'd). We credit the Journal for staying away from the temptation to play on U2 song titles in their reporting, and as for the name of the fund itself, all involved claim that it is just a coincidence that it is the name of a U2 song. But the article seems a bit too old fogeyish with this usage:
Elevation's partners declined to comment on details of its plans or Mr. Bono's responsibilities,
No word on whether Mr. The Edge will also be participating.
In perhaps a sign that the tech bubble is back, U2's Bono is becoming an investor in a Silicon Valley venture capital group called Elevation Partners. The Wall Street Journal has all the details in this article (subs. req'd). We credit the Journal for staying away from the temptation to play on U2 song titles in their reporting, and as for the name of the fund itself, all involved claim that it is just a coincidence that it is the name of a U2 song. But the article seems a bit too old fogeyish with this usage:
Elevation's partners declined to comment on details of its plans or Mr. Bono's responsibilities,
No word on whether Mr. The Edge will also be participating.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)