Christmas wishes from a Hungarian blogger!

The wonders of the Internet! Here's a link from Hungary that will warm your Christmas cockles.

Be sure your speakers are turned on! Great rendition done in 1954 of Irving Berlin's well-known "White Christmas." Accompanying visual is great!

Merry Christmas to all who wander onto this site.

Coming soon: To fix a broken system!

Everybody knows it's broken, but nobody does anything about it!

But now your humble blogger, having thought about the problem for more than 40 years, will soon post a clear design--not more obfuscation or politicization--for a practical overhaul long overdue at the critical levels, K through 12.

Except for the pernicious political grip professors presently exercise on most university campuses in the liberal arts studies, the change in science, math, engineering, and related studies will be reflected in the arrival of students already well prepared, motivated and grounded in "thinking"; their numbers will quickly replace the enrollment of foreign students who presently constitute 50% of those departments.

America will then resume its role as the clear leader in education--a condition required if we are to compete among rivals who are surely bent on assuming the mantle of our once-undisputed greatness as a vibrant, innovative people.

Stay tuned.

Attempted rebirth of Camelot, USA?

TIME MAGAZINE'S 2005 PICK

Bono, Bill & Melinda: Gimme a break!

Not so long ago, I congratulated myself for having survived the 1960s more or less intact. I was able to shed any lint that may have brushed off onto me from the phony Camelot era.

And meanwhile, during the past decade I’ve come to pay little or no attention to Time Magazine’s annual naming the person having made the most impact on the world—mainly because the magazine some time ago moved its original definition to include the thing, event, or . . . well, just about whatever happens to occur to its editors as politically correct--natural disasters, concepts, ideas. . . . whatever might attract the most advertising revenue for the week.

This morning, CNN aired a special on this year’s choice (little wonder, since CNN and Time Magazine are bugs in a corporate rug) swooning and bearing clear evidence that PC-ism, akin to the best days the do-gooder flower children had to offer, is being reborn. Those ushering in the renaissance: Bill Gates (with wife, Melinda) and Bono.

It seems the Gates--the richest couple in the world--have been unloading their money—34 billions (that's "b") of it—as fast as they can on a lot of philanthropic causes. As admirable as that may be, their redirected targets in Africa, led by their new pal, the rock star Bono (a jazzed up copy of hippiedom's rockers) , lends an up-to-date face to international raising of money. It's particularly 21st century that Bill and Melinda would engage the world's best known rocker as their shill who warms up millions of his international fans with his guitar and high-level amp noise to extol the Family Gates while simultaneously urging other celebs to join the “cause.”

What's the “cause” this time around? Bono, in his indefatigable (is it Irish or Brit?) accent, explains that, with the lavish spread of the Gates’ money, “we will finally defeat AIDS” (would it be too presumptuous of me to be highly skeptical of this claim?). Furthermore, Bono continues, “we can wipe out hunger on the planet” (again, my skepticism is showing). Finally, he assures us, “love, not war,” will finally cure mankind’s ills (I'm confused--I thought he said it was the Gates' money--but I digress).

This might have been but one more rich man's attempt to assuage his conscience--and that it undoubtedly was, but now they're adding an interesting twist to this renascent Camelot. In a brief clip where Bono isn’t singing or rocking—he's holding forth at an Honest-to-God revival meeting somewhere in Africa. Not even a guitar in hand--only a microphone, belting out the stock revivalist phrases, just like the best of ‘em—Benny Hinn, Billy Graham, Jimmy Swaggart and the rest--working the crowds into a frenzy.

It’s not just “Just Give Peace a Chance” or “Kumbaya,” etcetera, all over again. This time there’s a clear attempt to link it with Jesus. It's almost as offensive as the charities that use the phrase "Junk for Jesus." The next career move for Bono--maybe even Bill Gates (who must be getting bored with his duties at Microsoft)--my instinct leads me to guess, could soon be a presidential appointment to some goodwill ambassadorship.

A not-so-surprising strategy—with the support of Time magazine and other corporate giants--perhaps will be the most successful of all past attempts to benefit its sponsors: Bono, MTV, Microsoft Corporation, as well as dozens of designated "charity" organizations. But it strikes me odd that, given that the targets of this giant media event are overwhelmingly black Africans, the "music" genre ("rap") plied mainly by American blacks--with a few white exceptions like Eminem--is conspicuously absent in this coalition of the rich and willing. Does this signal some kind reverse race card? Or am I being too sensitive?)

In the end, what about the mesmerized millions who have little to hang onto, save a thin filament of hope these super stars are expert in raising? And when the spotlight turns to other themes in other parts of the world? What then?

Shall we simply surrender now?

The president delivered his Saturday radio spot (televised on CNN) this morning. He was short, sweet, and to the point. And he was pissed! Rightfully so.

On two counts: First, the Senate is balking at approving a renewal of the Patriots' Act (and it's due to expire in two weeks). He did not try to hide his anger--he iterated that the Senate is irresponsibly interfering with the security of the nation. Second, the New York Times, having held from publication a full year the knowledge that he had authorized the National Security Agency to monitor certain communications between suspected terrorists at home and abroad, finally spilled the beans yesterday.

So now begins another in a series of bad weeks for the president. To get it started, Democrat Senator Russ Feingold, the official Democrat response to the president's statement, had a tantrum, saying that the president's attitude and actions were unprecedented and shocking.

We may be sure the president's detractors are honing their straight razors and will be slashing wildly the next several days. The usual stable of Democrats (Pelosi, et. al.) and the Loony Left will be joining forces to do their best to undermine the Administration--in full view of the world: both our friends and our enemies.

I've been trying my best to remain circumspect and slow to react to the deep political division in our country, but this is the last straw! It's time to call a spade a spade. Gloves off!

Those American citizens who have been ragging this president since 9/11/01 and before, going to such lengths as to declare him to be a Nazi subversive, responsible for everything bad that happens in this country and on the planet--including hurricanes--are marginal creatures. I am now beginning to seriously doubt their dedication to the defense of this country. If these people were rational, I'd go one step further and agree, with David Horowitz and Ann Coulter, that they are real, live traitors! But suspecting that they lack sound minds, I'll step back short of that accusation and simply call them irresponsible.

The rabid anti-Bush, anti-American, self-hate, self-defeating attitude that grips this country must cease. This country must take immediate stock of where we are headed. The media must get their collective acts together. Bureaucrats inside our government must cease their illegal and traitorous "leaking" because of their narrow-minded, misguided pettiness--they must be rooted out and prosecuted for breaking their security oaths. Responsible academicians, business and spiritual leaders must quickly and decisively condemn the trend that is plunging the country into chaos. If we're going to insist on citing the Constitution as a vehicle designed to hasten our own destruction, then we've truly lost our way, and have sullied the vision of the men who wrote that blueprint.

Where are those rational voices? Will they step forward? Or are we destined to go down to defeat because of the irrationality of the Loonies and the opposition's quest for power? Or is history repeating itself, and the Huns are finally on the verge of ravaging the ramparts of freedom in the world's longest surviving Democracy?

It might be less painful in the short term if we simply surrendered now.

Who will be teaching whom?

Iraqis arriving for training in interrogation techniques

Local military affairs reporter for the Sierra Vista Herald (Sierra Vista, Arizona), Bill Hess, reports that Major General Barbara Fast, the senior Army officer responsible for setting up military intelligence interrogations in Iraq--and presently commander of Fort Huachuca (pronounced "wha-CHU-kah") in southeast Arizona, where Army interrogators are trained--has arranged for the visit of several Iraqi military officers to her military interrogations school.

As I noted in this blog (October 24, 2005), it's curious that General Fast--the Pentagon's darling with respect to interrogation policies--not only emerged unscathed from Army investigations over the abuse scandals that broke into the news in early 2004, but was rewarded by being placed in charge of the school that trains military interrogators.

Reformed or revived interrogation techniques?

In light of recent international news reports about severe maltreatment of prisoners discovered in Iraqi military prisons, one wonders whether the visiting Iraqi officers will be receiving information about the latest American interrogation techniques or whether the Iraqis will be instructing General Fast's school on the latest Iraqi techniques. After all, Iraqi prison and military officers under Saddam Hussein developed expert methods of torture and interrogation techniques during his 30-year reign.

Whatever General Fast's plan for the Iraqi officers' visit, at least it's good to note that this is her first public appearance of any kind since she took over command of Fort Huachuca last Spring. Since then, she has been maintaining a very low profile--to the extent that she's not even listed, in any capacity on the fort's public website. This announcement is one of her rare public interchanges in almost a year.

It would be edifying if General Fast would explain her role in the Abu Grahib scandal as related to the overarching theme for which she was responsible: Military intelligence interrogations in Iraq. Her co-commander in this effort, Brigadier General (now Colonel) Janis Karpinski--the only senior officer to be charged in the affair--would also be grateful if General Fast would explain her role and how she has managed to emerge from the mess with "clean hands."

Hasta la vista, baby!

Apologies to any weak sisters reading this; it and my stance on torture must be painting my self-portrait as Attila's spiritual guru. Fact is, I'm normally a gentle soul--except when our collective stupidity rises to intolerable levels.

Tookie, the Govenator just kissed off your last chance, in case you didn't catch his famous one-liner. And so now it's time to pay for being the big, bad, fearless anti-social malcontent you were (and whether you still are or are not, I don't frankly care one whit). Bid your lawyers "adios," then reminisce--until they call you for that final walk--about your letters of nomination for the Nobel Peace Prize (what a joke!--the Swedish Nobel Selection Committee must have been co-opted by the hashish, free-love crowd that distinguished the "creative, sensitive" sides of Sweden in the 1960s).

There's still time before midnight tonight to also dedicate a few copies of those kiddies' books you wrote with such loving, tender insight to some of the bros' kids, many of whom are still being reared in the tradition of violence and the primitive lifestyle you founded. You must take great pride in the fact that the bros and their broods still populate and are still propagating their existence in your nationally-based criminal gangs that still prey on people in the big cities.

Yes, yes, I know you say you found Jesus a long time ago, and despite the fact that most people don't believe your epiphany was genuinely from Above, --I'm easy. Most people would say that your seeing the Light is a boringly typical jail-bird's discovery soon after he realizes he ain't so tough any more, being left to pace a 9 x 12 cell night and day. I'd get Jesus too--for real--if it'd ease my conscience and might even turn out to be a ticket out of jail with the help of a bunch of Hollywood creeps enrolled in various New Age Enlightenment sects!

Well, pardner, the jig's up, as they say! Unless a tsunami washes away San Quentin Prison this afternoon, you can thank the U.S. legal system (not God, you creep) that gave you 20 long, unnecessary years of appeals and the time to feign your "rehabilitation." Twenty years that your many victims, dead and alive, did not have to contemplate and build their lives!

Pack your spiritual bags, Tookie and get ready to meet either your Maker or His Nemesis--if you're really a repentant Man of God as you claim, you ought to thank also California for providing you a shortcut to His throne. If I really believed you were a truly remorseful, repentant man, I'd say "vaya con Dios," but candidly, I doubt that my lip-synching that phrase would do you any good.

Instead, my counsel is: Lie down, don't fight the leather straps, and when they turn on the microphone to carry your words to the spectators' gallery, apologize to each victim's family for the unspeakable pain you have caused them the past 20 years. Then, if it gives you comfort, ask the padre to make the sign of the cross over your body and then take the needle like a man.

Oh yeah, you ought to thank California that they did away with death by strangling at the end of a noose or smoking from your eyeballs in "Old Sparky"--both rough by-ways to transcendence. You will go without agony--a luxury you didn't accord your victims. By the way, do not say as you exit, "until we meet again"--'cause we really don't want to have to put up with you again, bro!

A short primer on torture!

Torturous Tortured Logic

BE FOREWARNED! My instinct on this subject is to really let go. But doing so would probably obfuscate the subject as much as any of the many commentaries before the public these days. So I'll restrain myself and rely on Ambrose Bierce, my favorite journalist-gadfly, who wrote before he disappeared into Mexico during the Mexican Revolution:

"Endeavor to see things as they are, not as they ought to be."

Anyone unfamiliar with, for the first time intending to listen to the do-gooder, high road, halo-burdened crowd should get themselves a barf bag before they settle in.

One of the most practiced silver-tongued advocates of the “no-torture” debate waxed eloquently at length on Meet the Press yesterday. He was so slick that I actually paused a few seconds before I barfed.

Lindsey Graham, senator from South Carolina, made his very well practised case like this: The future of humanity rests on the U.S. making Senator McCain’s “no-torture” amendment, passed last week 90 to 9, federal law, applicable to all U.S. agencies, contractors, or representatives. The Senator’s curious amendment would also forbid any “degrading, coercive, and inhumane” treatment—hopeless muddying the letter of the law whenever our agencies seek critical information that might save American lives or treasure, in conventional or unconventional war times.

In other words, according to Graham, we should go along with voluntarily strapping one arm behind our collective back in any struggle with an enemy, because (loud, extended drumroll please!): Americans should represent the “gold standard” of the highest form of ideal human behavior, so that lesser nations (and inextricably linked lesser human beings, it follows in their logic) will be impressed, instructed, and therefore will follow our high-meaning example. Not only will this bring love, peace, contentment, and positive spiritualism to the world, but doing this will save the world from plunging into moral chaos akin to evil doers such as those found in the circles of Al-Qaida & Co.

My barf was extended, hearty, and complete!

Let us get real for a few seconds: Man, no matter how high-minded he might like to be thought of, acts first and foremost out of the instinct to survive—as any psychologist will confirm. Close behind the survival instinct is the instinct to win; granted, this is nearly as strong as the survival instinct, because it is often seen to be irretrievably linked to the survival instinct—particularly pronounced during wars between individuals, nation-states, and business competitors.

In an attempt to see things as they are, and not as they should be, we can quickly see the fallacy in Senator McCain’s amendment. First, voluntarily subscribing to such a high-minded standard will not automatically assure one’s entry into the arms of Jesus or into a state of Nirvana. Second, enemies bent on winning at any cost will have little regard for the rules we might establish—surely, the jihadist beheaders have taught us that.

Let’s face it: Torture, no matter how lamentable, is a practice that is permanently embedded in the dark side of our psyches and will not easily be exorcised by many Amendments or Sermons nor excite us to action when told about how morally reprehensible the practice is. Just as Eve was programmed to succumb to her base instincts, causing mankind’s permanent “fall from Grace,” so it easily follows that a squad of tough, kill-and-survive Marines, under fire and threat of beheading if captured, could hardly be blamed if they did not stop and prepare a Japanese tea ceremony for their sword wielders. Especially if they thought their captured adversary might be harboring information relating to their survival.

Even if the preachers and Ivory Tower do-gooders believe that laying down some abstract set of laws will someday contribute to a finer, more pleasant association between competitors or combatants--it is silly, unrealistic, and unthinkable to condemn those who must employ it under stressful, life-threatening situations.

The best we can or should expect is to limit the application of torture to those “stressful, life-threatening” situations and not to allow it to spread, as it easily would, among the those on the sidelines and not directly affected—as happens in crowds that are driven by an irrational crowd psychology we have yet to understand (take as an example, yesterday’s violent beach riots against Muslims over the weekend in Australia--they spilled over onto the constabulary charged with preventing loss of life by the mobs). To this reasoned extent, military and other U.S. agency managers must always be in charge and must promulgate clear rules and procedures for when, where, and how torture will be applied. Such rule-making authority must extend downward to the level where the "action" is--not upward to the some congressional oversight committee or government entity remote from the scene.

Just one critical exception to all this! Absolutely banned should be any form of torture involving forcing opponents to listen to any recorded materials (visual or aural) by Barbra Streisand! Such a form of torture would be simply too barbaric and beyond the pale.

Sounds brutal and "primitive," eh? Sure, maybe, I can handle that accusation. But until someone revokes man’s first motivational instinct—self-preservation-survival—I’d rather we deal successfully with it, than fall prey to the vultures of those who don't give a damn about high sounding slogans. So doing would simply constitute surrendering whatever positive values Occidental societies have achieved, especially during the past two or three thousand years (including those mores from “foreign” cultures that underpin our current social order).

Pass the word to your congress people--especially to the suspiciously hypocritically sanctimonious Senators Graham and McCain:

I want to survive, so that we can look forward to building a more idealistic society where perhaps all men who share the planet will have purged themselves of the primitive instinct of survival.

Ciao, Machiavelli!

I don't like minor bureaucrats toying with national security

The case of the “compromised" CIA employee, Valerie Plame

Thank God this jet-set, wannbe lady spook finally resigned (more accurately, “retired”) yesterday from her desk job at CIA headquarters at Langley! She and her out-of-work, minor diplomat hubby, Joe Wilson, managed to wring every bit of undeserved attention and anti-Bush wrath possible—with the more-than-willing collaboration of the Washington Post and the New York Times, to the delight of Democrat party leaders Nancy Pelosi and Harry Reid of Congress, the vast array of Lefties, down to and including the weirdos (not to forget the clownish Democratic National Chairman, Howard Dean).

Both she and Joe are products of JFK's mythical "Camelot" era--moved on from recreational pot-smoking (“Yes, I inhaled, and I enjoyed it,” Joe declared in one of his many staged interviews these past months) to mainstream respectability and the fat paychecks of federal jobs. Joe won an appointment with the State Department's Foreign Service in the 70s and worked his way up a mediocre career ladder to an undistinguished early retirement. Valerie, a converted campus flower child of the Camelot era into an upward moving mainstream, avowed feminist, snagged a desk job as an analyst in CIA and married Joe.

Joe trudged through his 25- year career to qualify for a fat government pension. And when Valerie passed her 20 year-plus mark a couple years later, they decided to fold their government-paid tents to enjoy their pensions and perks that amount to more than $100,000 annually--an amount that will continue to support their high-flying lifestyle: An upscale home in a fashionable Washington suburb and their expensive trendy convertible import that moves them back and forth to the A&P in style.

But now to the unexciting, meaningless Washington-only game: The "leak" that so far has cost taxpayers about $700,000 for a special Department of Justice investigator (Patrick Fitzgerald) to answer the profound question: “Who outed Valerie Plame in the CIA?” Although Americans outside Washington could care less, the Left is doing its best to make the "leak" the Second Watergate, so we're forced to be conversant about it.

Before you plod through this recap, remind yourself about the theory the Left is advancing for the Administration's supposed willful "leak" of classified information: Vice President Cheney (and maybe the president himself) was seeking revenge on Joe Wilson who was trying to neutralize the administration's case for going to war with Iraq (over the question of whether Iraq was "nuclear capable" if it had acquired "yellow cake"). How was Cheney supposed to have done this? The Left's answer: By outing Joe's wife as a CIA "operative."

Now ask yourself: "Wouldn't a highly experienced politician like Cheney (who knows Washington inside and out), had he wanted to seek "revenge," have found a more effective, more mature, more rational, and less risky way to "get back" at Joe? Think how silly this theory is--considering the many other options available to Cheney.

Here are the elements of this Machiavellian affair:

(1) Since 1984, because a disgruntled CIA spy, Phillip Agee, had earlier revealed the names of real U.S. spies in the U.S.S.R. and elsewhere (resulting in the deaths of the outed spies) it has been a federal crime to willfully reveal the identities of CIA deep cover agents (i.e., spies). This law is the foundation for the byzanntine floss that the Left has woven; they claim that Valerie was a CIA spy, and therefore whoever had outed her had committed a serious federal crime. But let's look closer. . . .

(2) Valerie undoubtedly had a “secret” assignment or two (in the CIA, most all their work, even including routine work such as culling open sources for information is at least “confidential”—if not “secret”) during the course of her career but, as far as anyone has been able to ascertain, she was never a “deep undercover agent” in the sense most people associate with the CIA--she was always one of the stable of CIA desk analysts, who constitute the majority of employees. The only "spy" work she did was to classify "secret" (or above) her correlations of open-source material with occasional bits of covert files intelligence. These analysts may, when it's convenient, call themselves "spies," but it's a questionable stretch.

(3) It’s well known in the bureaucracy and among the mainstream media people that both she and Joe, along with factions within the CIA and State Department, have long harbored anti-Bush political sentiments--over time, they have only barely tried to conceal their intentions to do what they could to wound and undermine the president. (It's worth noting here that Bush's first Secretary of State, Collin Powell, did nothing to discourage this in-house corrosive culture during his four year tour of duty.)

(4) Joe and Valerie's predetermined strategy--an effort coordinated with sympathizers inside the State Department and the CIA--played out as follows:

a. When Washington area intelligence agencies were searching for evidence of Saddam’s WMD stocks and/or intentions to acquire them, Valerie, from her position within the CIA, suggested to her bosses that her hubby be sent to Niger to research rumors of Iraq’s attempt to buy uranium ore (“yellow cake”), which British intelligence had endorsed as true.

b. Why CIA paid a non-employee to do this bit of intelligence research for them remains a question that eventually deserves to be answered. Nevertheless, on the strength of his wife's recommendation, the CIA paid Joe for this junket. After a couple weeks of sipping “lots of mint tea” with his African hosts, he returned and, with the apparent blessing of his CIA paymaster, “leaked” his trip report to the Washington Post, in which he left the impression that Vice President Cheney had requested his research and which concluded that Iraq had never made attempts to buy the nuclear ore. Upon reading Joe's op-ed, Cheney was understandably bewildered, so sent his Chief of Staff, "Scooter" Libby, to find out who Joe Wilson was.

c. From this point forward Cheney, his chief of staff, and other White House people were drawn into a morass of confusion deliberately exploited in order to discredit the Bush Administration. It was now that Valerie's name surfaced (Robert Novak wrote the now infamous article that first named her as a CIA "employee"--to this day, he hasn't told the public his source). As if on cue, the CIA requested the Justice Department investigate this as a breach of the "outing-of-spies law."

(5) Here’s where the non-story morphed--among the Inside-the-Beltway mavens--into a story that doggedly persists for no rational reason at all, except that it is being revived on a daily basis--abetted by the help of the news outlets inimical to the Bush Administration: The Washington Post, New York Times, CNN, and a long list of lesser pundits.

a. It's maddenly frustrating that Robert Novak, a long-time Washington insider, has remained behind the scenes ever since his article started this hullabaloo--leading some to believe that Novak provided enough information (while exculpating himself) to cause Fitzgerald to think he could nail someone high up in the Administration for the (as yet) alleged crime of outing poor little Valerie, while exonerating Novak himself for the "crime." However, that Fitzgerald couldn't make anything out of his two-year investigation except for a dubious "Martha Stewart" indictment (for allegedly having lied to Fitzgerald about some detail in the course of the investigation) of Cheney's Chief of Staff, "Scooter" Libby, lends serious doubt to the validity of the entire investigation.

b. Before Fitzgerald's weak indictment, as if to "help" the investigators, wrote a long op-ed piece in the Washington Post, “clarifying” his (non) relationship with VP Cheney (he said the CIA had tasked his intelligence research and that he "assumed" this was at Cheney's bidding). Then he flat out lied that he had discovered, examined, and found the documentation alleging Iraq's intent to purchase uranium ore to be forgeries; furthermore, he wrote that he reported this to Cheney. How Joe got his facts so mixed up he hasn't explained, but the documents he claimed to have examined didn’t surface until six months after his African trip, well after he wrote his penurious op-ed piece. Maybe Joe had been reliving his pot-smoking days when he wrote the piece, because also made another gaffe--he himself “outed” Valerie by confirming, for the first time since Novak's article, that she was indeed a CIA employee. Then, as though an afterthought, he embellished the truth some more by suggesting the little wife had been a long-time undercover spy, so that now her career was ruined.

c. Judith Miller, a long-time reporter for the New York Times, mysteriously enters the picture. It turns out that her involvement was a total--if odd and apparently unrelated--diversion to the Joe-Valerie plot. Judy was supposed to have been privy to which administration officials were involved in the "leak"—but as it turns out, she unnecessarily created high drama out of this refusing to cooperate with Fitzgerald about her alleged knowledge of the "leak" and spent 85 days in a federal cell for all effort in Alexandria, Virginia.

d. Bob Woodward, the Washington Post’s super-star journalist who, with his sidekick Carl Bernstein, reported the Watergate Affair in the mid-1970s, even came forth--albeit belatedly after Fitzgerald's indictment had been served--to confess that he too had some inside knowledge who might have been the original culprit (Bob has yet to enlighten all those inside the Beltway waiting with bated breath for his revelations).

The entire process is an exquisite tragic-comedy woven from nothing and promoted entirely out of proportion by President Bush's antagonists. It would have been a simple Beltway caper of no consequence had Fitzgerald concluded early on the emptiness of the accusation. But for reasons we can only speculate about at this stage (was it personal or professional ambition that drove him?), Fitzgerald pressed on and finally had to be content--presumably to save face--with convincing the grand jury to issue a dubious, weak “Martha Steward indictment" (the details of which are still unknown to the public and will undoubtedly be dropped by Fitzgerald, thrown out by an Appeals Court, or found by Libby's jury to be false).

Look at this expensive, distracting, mean-spirited affair from an arm’s length distance: Is there any, I repeat any, significance to this non-story that would warrant the screeching and beating of breasts--not to mention $700,000 and two years of a staff of DOJ investigators who could surely have been used more productively in prosecuting pressing matters (such as the War on Terror)? Has anyone, including the CIA, suggested that Valerie's outing as a career employee has done the slightest damage to national security? The answer is clearly "no." But the whole affair illustrates the outrageous Machiavellian mindset of Washington’s politicos who do not demonstrate the slightest restraint in the face of an enemy in their quest to topple a president for the sake of ascendancy to power.

But even more insidious is the realization that these minor bureaucrats, Joe and Valerie and their faceless colleagues inside the government, are allowed--with impunity--to play fast and loose with the country's security. Most disturbing is the revelation that two of the most important bureaucracies in the government—the State Department and the CIA—are riddled with insiders who believe they should determine the standards of governance and may do so by undermining the very government who is paying them-- instead of producing the intelligence Americans are paying for and deserve.

It’s high time these politicized bureaucrats (starting with the small fry like Joe and Valerie and working up the food chain to the very top, if need be) be rooted out, fired, and-- if there's clear evidence--prosecuted to the utmost the law allows. At minimum for breaking their oaths of secrecy to which they are required to subscribe as an inviolate condition of their employment, for which we the taxpayer-citizens are paying.

They’ve been playing fast and loose with this nation’s security far too long. But to continue to tolerate this reckless, anti-American behavior is especially pernicious during wartime—a condition of the state that permits prosecuting violators up to and including treason. And please, don't let them get away with the weak-sister "First Amendment" argument that they have the right (and moral duty) to speak up whenever they believe they should "for the good of the country."

I worked among these "elite" bureaucrats in Washington; after that enlightening three-year experience, I can assure you of this: you should not want bureaucrats mucking around with your security by making unilateral, politically motivated decisions that undermine or replace the purpose of the people we Americans voted for to represent us. We should prefer our elected representatives make all decisions about governance--not a bunch of spoiled malcontents who imperiously appoint themselves as guardians of the "American way of life."

Are the Saddamites winning this hand?

A Straight beats a Flush--right?

What the hell kind of a trial is taking place in Baghdad? The prosecutor’s duty, evidently, is to introduce witnesses--like an emcee at a charity drive-- and then just “let ‘em rip.” No questions to focus the witnesses on issue of the trial—just rambling monologues. Then up jumps Saddam or his half-wit half-brother and they start to rant and rave, sometimes making veiled threats about the testimony against him, but more substantively about the lack of smoke breaks; too infrequent changes of underwear; how the judges are American puppets; how Saddam is still "dah man," etc. At the end of the first (and only) full day of court time, Saddam tells the chief judge to “go to hell” and stomps out, vowing not to return the following day (and he didn't). If you've a penchant for self-flagellation, check it out on CourtTV (when the trial's actually taking place from time to time), or click here for a blow-by-blow transcript.

Then there’s the gaggle of defense lawyers sitting to one side, saying little of substance--one assumes they will come to life at Saddam's beckoning--presumably because the old dictator has clearly taken charge. Even nutty Ramsey Clark (the former Attorney-General on President Jimmy Carter’s painful four-year watch), one of Saddam's lawyers, is not given the opportunity to say much—which must frost him considerably, since he undertook the task hoping to get more international attention as the anti-American extraordinaire. So far, he's only been allowed an introductory remark, urging the judges to conduct a fair trial and, at the admonition of the chief judge, had to go buy a black robe out of respect for courtroom tradition in Iraq. I suspect the real reason he hasn't said anything is because he's as confused as everyone else.

Then there’s the blue curtain, behind which alleged witnesses testify—presumably because their lives would be in danger because of their courage (audacity?) in testifying. O.K., O.K. so we understand that Iraq’s a dangerous place, and that Saddam loyalists seem to be in charge of the country's violence. But shouldn’t someone (the witnesses' lawyers perhaps) help them write—or at least edit—their statements? The rambling, James Joycean style suggests . . . well, whatever.

One of the many U.S. Department of Justice lawyers who has been consulting the Iraqi court after Saddam’s capture held forth on C-SPAN a few days ago. He averred that he and his colleagues have spent many hours the past couple years providing the Iraqi court extensive research and procedural advice, so as to augment the judicial system that had "decayed" during Saddam's reign. Man, if our DOJ boys really invested that much time trying to "refresh" the long unused judicial system, please don't ever send that team to represent me--even in a no-contest divorce case.

I have the same sinking feeling I suspect President Bush and his administration are now experiencing: Someone made a bad mistake to hold Saddam’s trial in Iraq. Their initial theory was that handing Saddam over to Iraq would constitute a grand gesture that would also serve to assure the citizenry that we, the United States, were not “occupiers,” but are there to only serve Iraq’s needs until it is able to get on its own feet. At the time, Bush was operating under the impression that the Iraqis would be made even more grateful (than they were supposed to have already been) for Saddam’s capture, they would “feast” over the spectacle of Saddam’s trial, right there in “River City.” Evidently, the thinkers in the White House and in Foggy Bottom didn’t game out the “what-if” scenario in which Saddam’s bold take-over and contempt for the “Puppet Court” would energize not only Saddamites, but also reawaken a long-ingrained nostalgia for the dictator--unarguably a masterful "law and order guy"--who made the streets safe (except for the occasional unexpected visits from his henchmen, for whatever transgressions he pronounced).

To think of carting Saddam off to the Hague, as was the case with Serbian president Milosevic's, is now clearly out of the question—doing that would not only offend the present Court and its political supporters, but would give substance to the charge that, in fact, Saddam’s trial is an American-inspired “puppet trial.” And pulling the plug on the live TV drama that Saddam is creating would also invite the charge that Americans are censoring the old dictator! And, as the benevolent guys who won the freeging war, we sure wouldn't want to be accused of that, now would we? After all, we also have to show sensitivity for the weak sisters here at home, too!

Poker players will recognize that we’ve been out-bluffed and we're now being forced to play our hand or fold. Before letting the Iraqis work him over in their judicial system, perhaps we should have anticipated that the ancient land of Babylon has bred some pretty shrewd players easily capable of competing in poker with the best of the West Texas barroom rowdies or the more prim East Coast Ivy League set.

WARNING! Information Overload

Isn't it a great time to be alive? There're Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) flown by pilots from their comfortable chairs at Nellis Air Force Base near Las Vegas, viewing computer screens where they target, in real time, insurgents and their refuges in Iraq and Afghanistan--7,000 miles away; "smart" bombs that destroy anything we choose ("surgically"); inter-planetary probes; the aging space shuttle resupplying the ISS; sonic toothbrushes; home pregnancy test kits and quick abortion on demand for all ages; pills for almost any ailment (real or imagined)--with more new ailments being revealed or invented (Restless Leg Syndrome--whatever that is--comes to mind); laser surgery that restores marginal vision; and . . . well, the list is seemingly endless. Truly awesome is the statistic that technical knowledge in the IT spectrum is mounting so fast that it doubles every 18 months (which means, as the kid at Radio Shack taunts me, that what I buy today will be hopelessly outdated in 18 months). As if this fast-moving world weren't enough to try and get your mind around it, there's the fast moving . . .

Internet and its infinite spin-offs (business-card size Apple iPods that record and playback as many as 10,000 songs--I've always longed to have 10,000 songs at my fingertips--the more noise, the better; blog sites where I can read first-hand the travails of spoiled and abused teenagers from Chile to Ukraine). Now add "Google search" that is expanding exponentially, giving us instant facts, photographs, textbooks, news, and opinions. . . oh, yes, endless opinions on any damned subject you never wanted to know about, but now you can--and probably should, unless you want to be happy as an intellectual null. And for the voyeur, he can even view my house or yours with Google's instant satellite imaging. And with Googlle's moon.Google.com you can even peer into the moon's craters to get a close-up feeling of what has always been left to the imagination of earthbound mortals.

Finally, when Google has finished digitizing every known book in print (oh yes, in case you didn't know, the company already has a good start on that mind-boggling project), and when Wikipedia--edited by you, me and millions of others out there--has made most of man's knowledge available at our fingertips, we shall have achieved--whether we want it or not--some kind of intellectual Nirvana.

How are we coping? I don't know about you, but as for me, well, maybe I'm stuck in a prolonged phase of Darwinian evolution, but I don't think I'm adapting all that well. Like a good pal of mine says, "zeros and ones" scare the hell out of him when he realizes they're controlling everything from UAV warplanes to the surgeon's scalpel and the tiniest minutiae about his life. He tries to have as little to do with the "net" as possible. "I'll send you an e-mail," I say. "Just pick up the phone," he retorts unabashedly. I get a little nervous too, whenever I think how fast the zeros and ones are driving me, with scarcely any guidance or reference, into a vast, virtual, and mysterious cyberworld that I'm not sure is completely friendly and which I find I'm not able to control.

Don't get me wrong--unlike my pal who is always inventing new ways to resist assimilation--I actually am in love with"the net." (Or am I simply enamored of it, like a testosterone-driven young man studying a Playboy fold-out?) I now do 99% of my banking and bill-paying on it, and am committing more of my life to it. I've even learned how to make a little money (legally) on it--just enough to let me spring for additional software that those too-damned-smart designers dream up and convince me that I can't do without it. Sometimes I pause and try to take a breather, lest, according to my pal, I become a virtual, helpless prisoner of the net.

The larger aspect of the problem is this: Together with the numerous print magazines I still subscribe to out of a long habit (most of my favorites are also now "online" and have the enormous advantage of eliminating the piles of unread magazines that pile up on my bedside stand and in the john, causing my wife considerable stress when I insist that I must keep these weighty piles, for articles I've yet to read), the Internet has now infected my brain with recurring bouts of "information overload."

Information overload is a seriously debilitating ailment (I don't think the drug companies have yet found a pill to alleviate this condition) that manifests itself in an odd way--in me at least. When my mind has reached information overload, it compensates by turning toward the nostalgic past. It surrenders to a simpler time. Some would tell me, "Hey, you're just getting old--that's what happens in the opening stages of dementia, Alzheimer's, and any stage of senility." At first I agreed with this diagnosis.

But I'm not so sure, because just like when you re-set a tripped fuse or breaker in your electrical circuitry to restore the lights and power to nest, so submitting to the flow of pleasant images from the past--otherwise long overlooked and buried in those creases and valleys of gray matter--seems to re-set the mind back--if not refreshed, at least capable of plowing through the endless flow of information that the net provides. And if I allow myself to (which I do out of courtesy, if not terribly enthusiastic), I can get double and triple doses of worrisome information by opening the e-mails and links that friends and acquaintances send in abundance. And that is likely, in time, to trip my circuits again.

I find those moments of re-setting unpredictable. For example, while recently debating illegal immigration with a couple of Internet correspondents, I struggled for a way to assure them that this flow of mankind from Mexico and Central America has been taking place much longer than Simcox's Minutemen would have us believe.
WHO TH ISueatyourownris WHOOPS!

CIRCUIT-BREAKER TRIPPED:ENTERING A NOSTALGIA ZONE! CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Images of Felipe and Maria come to mind. They were a lovable, caring older couple who showed up every Spring in the 1940s at my stepfather's little "finca" on the outskirts of Rocky Ford, Colorado in the Arkansas River Valley--famous for fine quality cantaloupes and watermelons that lured hundreds of illegals (we called them "migrants"--probably a PC-turn of an otherwise cruel phrase) to tend, harvest, and pack them for the area's truck farm operators.

Felipe and Maria brought the mystery of the planet to my little world in Rocky Ford; while caring for the 5,000 chickens my step dad raised to make some income on the side of his newspaper editing job, these polite, swarthy foreigners taught me phrases and words in Spanish that made me wonder where these strange sounds were uttered--in fact, now that I think about it, Felipe and Maria planted in my psyche my life-long fascination for exploring the world.

But one summer day my little, care-free world changed abruptly. After a long, care-free typical day that was filled with hours of swimming (and getting massively browned after an initial sunburning) in the nearby city reservoir (forbidden, but tolerated, until the community finally built a swimming pool on top of Reservoir Hill), bicycling between my home just outside the city limits and the homes in town of Jim Bill Grimsley, Tommy Warren, Billy Simpson, and Betty St. John (my first "real" girlfriend) and a mid-afternoon Saturday matinee at the local movie, I found myself manacled by the local constabulary. After hopping on my Schwinn tank bicycle (which I had received the Christmas before and was the envy of my pals), I was waving bye to my pals after watching the Lone Ranger and his faithful sidekick Tonto shoot it out (in black and white, of course) with the bad guys , when a cop (we were taught to call them "policemen," not the more disrespectful "cops") stopped me for "riding illegally on the sidewalk." So off we went to jail in the paddywagon--the cop, me and my Schwinn.

Being arrested, manacled, and thrown into the hoosegow of our small town at age 12 was a traumatic experience, to put it mildly. My parents returned a couple hours later after attending a journalism convention in Pueblo, just up the highway north of Rocky Ford and, of course, had their tear-drenched, soon-to-become-a-hardened criminal released forthwith (I don't recall if bail was involved or not). Although I never understood the real reason for my arrest until years later*, you may be sure I steered clear of anything that bore a resemblance to a sidewalk. Undoubtedly, this is where I acquired a too-deep "respect" for the law that has lasted up to this day. In fact, although it's embarrassing to admit it here, whenever I'm stopped (rarely) for such a mundane matter as breaking some traffic rule, my throat gets dry and I have to try and control my hands from shaking while searching for my driver's license, title, and proof of insurance.

* It seems my step dad, not one to mince words or fail to take up a good cause, had been bad-mouthing (in his weekly Op-Ed column) the local Ku Klux Klan and the City Council to which, as he explained to me 35 years later, membership was controlled and interchangeable within the local "old boys' club." In the 1940s a small Colorado town of 5,000 souls law, order, and rule-making were all pretty much defined and administered in the hands of like-thinking folks. And because they didn't like to be dissed, the word went out to slap cold iron on me for whatever transgression they could discover--I later learned it was an act that was intended to "send a message" to my crusading newpaperman step dad.

And as if for good measure, presumably for having criticized in his paper's Op-Ed section the poor treatment and low wages meted out to the likes of the many Felipes and Marias who populated our area six months every year, we woke up at midnight shortly after my arrest to Maria's screams (she and Felipe had their own one-bedroom hut near the chicken houses) to find a 10-foot burning cross in our alfalfa field just 50 yards from our house. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . SIGH!

-----------RE-SET------------

Ah, I feel much better now-- see what I mean about what happens when my mind gets overloaded? It switches to a simpler, more pleasant time (including the KKK and my early experience with the criminal world) and I'm refreshed, as it were, ready for another round of more e-mails, online opinion pieces, and several bloggers--one of whom will predictably challenge my Weltanschauung, requiring me to defend capitalism against socialism (I thought that was a dead subject after the U.S.S.R. imploded in 1981, until newly minted campus Marxists started popping up recently and began lecturing me on the "newly discovered" wonders of socialism). Then tonight, I'll fall asleep after forcing myself to absorb more bad news in my increasingly large pile of magazines that analyze where our world is headed. This cycle will undoubtedly continue, with new images about "yesterday" soothing my raw psyche. If my circuit breaker doesn't trip, then better send me a bouquet of lilies (the cheapest bunch possible, please).

Semantic Silliness

I think it was Bill O'Reilly (FOX News) who called my attention to the insistence in some quarters on linguistic Political Correctness, namely, the use of phrases such as "Holiday" trees instead of "Christmas" trees by some businesses and institutions.

Now, I confess that Bill has entertained me pretty consistently for several years, because he and I both know his "fair and balanced news" is really a not-too-subtle form of entertainment couched as news opinion--ostensibly without "spin" (wink wink). With the exception of an occasional foray outside this reasonable formula, Bill's turn of a phrase, and his aggressive--sometimes ranting--style often hits current domestic issues squarely on the head. And you can listen to and watch O'Reilly without expending much effort.

Now he says the fight over retaining "Christmas" in our seasonal vocabulary is "the centerpiece in a cultural war" between secularists and religionists. C'mon, O'Reilly--isn't that taking semantics to a whole new (silly or perhaps dangerous) level? But now you've worn out my easy acceptance of the various causes you love to take up, by virtue of your daily whining about how evil the expunging is of the word "Christmas" from advertising modules used by some businesses-- like Wal-Mart and other biggies. You really got my goat when you began calling for a boycott of businesses that wouldn't bend to your thinly disguised theological campaign. I suspect you know that you're playing on the emotions of people who themselves don't realize how powerful identifying ideas with words can be. You're prepping them for taking up the sword against "the Devil" when the time comes (and of course, we know who the Devil is, don't we?)

Although the word "Christmas" or any other linguistic device referring directly or indirectly to "God" is subject to debate among linguistics and other academic pinheads, it is really a non-issue that religionists are trying to raise to the level of a social crisis. Let the nitwits, including the ACLU, militate on the grounds of "church and state separation" if that's what provides fuller employment and mischievous amusement.

But leave middle America out of artificially created turmoil. Left to the "regular folks" who make up the backbone of this country, they will determine what words they will use and which they won't. I wager few of the "regular folks" could care less what word Wal-Mart uses or doesn't use--they'll patronize them if the price and service are right.

As Martin Luther said of his heresy in translating the Bible from Latin into German, "language is that found in the marketplace." Whether "Christmas" and related words should survive in the American lexicon will be determined by the people speaking the language--not the linguistic prigs who are wielding all kinds of axes intended to engineer society in their own private visions. Let's let Luther's dictum work and get on with any of the many more serious issues.