Monday, September 24, 2007

Ahmadinejad at Columbia: The Pampering of Evil

It was easy for Ahmadinejad to get cheers from his audience at Columbia. It was difficult to get them to jeer him.

In fact, it was so difficult that Ahmadinejad had to do a backward triple-somersault into the fever swamp by declaring that there were no homosexuals in Iran; "That phenomenon does not exist in our country." Only then could he get a negative reaction from the children of Korrectisch Politik.

Granted, Ahmadinejad's weird "dialogue" with Columbia was prefaced by a blistering smack-down from President Lee Bollinger. No doubt Bollinger has been feeling some heat from the alumni over the past couple of days, particularly from the School of Journalism grads who might have interpreted those Hitler remarks as a threat to invite George Bush to speak at Columbia. But I will not question Bollinger's motives; his remarks were very good and he properly set the tone by administering a good, stiff cold water douche. Ahmadinejad whined about it throughout his own speech - and got some applause for doing so.

Bollinger's introduction was aimed as much at the public and at Columbia students as it was at the little dictator. In the case of the Columbia students, results seem to be mixed, and mixed in favor of Ahmandinejad and his brutal Islamic fascist regime.

A lot people will claim that Ahmandinejad is very clever at playing to the media and the public, and that he is crazy like a fox. People always claim that in these situations, and they're usually wrong. In fact, Ahmandinejad is a bumbling mess, and if he is successful it is testament not to his cleverness but to the pathetic credulity of the people who cheer him.

It was astonishing what the man could get away with. A clever Ahmandinejad would have steered well clear of Holocaust denial; that donkey show is for Middle East racists, not the American stage. But he happily blathered on and on about it - even comparing it to the New Physics. He was canny enough to drag the Palestinians into it, and to play the victim when the questioners got too blunt with him, and in the end he scored several applause lines. But it's obvious that he could have easily dodged the whole issue and gotten away with it.

Likewise, he could have dodged the issue of Iran's execution of homosexuals, dissidents, religious minorities, and "soiled" women. He started off on the right path, by talking about drug dealers. It is standard practice for regimes like Iran to accuse their victims of being criminals. Executed gays, for example, are usually accused of being child molesters. That ploy has worked wonderfully well with the Western left, who are stunningly silent about Iran's brutality. What doesn't work wonderfully well is the claim that homosexuality only exists in the decadent West, and that's the card the fool finally played.

In short, Mr. Unpronounceable is a clod. If he is cheered for it, it is only because his audience is composed of bigger clods.

Not all of them are so stupid, though. Some of them see Ahmadinejad as a useful tool against their own enemies: Bush, Israel, and the dreaded Neocons. Or as the charmingly frank Ahmandinejad would call them, the International Jewish Conspiracy.

These apologists do not shrink from a nuclear-armed Iran; they welcome it as a counter to Israel. They will be glad to accept the full consequences of that, and when those consequences come they will blame Bush for it, or some future Bush-like object. Not themselves - not the champions of peace and justice.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Psalm for September 11th

A Psalm of David, when he was in the wilderness of Judah.

63.

O God, thou art my God;
early will I seek thee:
my soul thirsteth for thee,
my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land,
where no water is;

to see thy power and thy glory,
so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary.

Because thy loving-kindness is better than life,
my lips shall praise thee.

Thus will I bless thee while I live:
I will lift up my hands in thy name.

My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness;
and my mouth shall praise thee with joyful lips:

when I remember thee upon my bed,
and meditate on thee in the night watches.

Because thou hast been my help,
therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.

My soul followeth hard after thee:
thy right hand upholdeth me.

But those that seek my soul, to destroy it,
shall go into the lower parts of the earth.

They shall fall by the sword:
they shall be a portion for jackals.

But the king shall rejoice in God;
every one that sweareth by him shall glory:
but the mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped.

Monday, September 03, 2007

THE NEW REPUBLIC DIARIST - Spiders Don't Have Lungs

IT SMELLED LIKE SLOW DEATH IN THERE. Thai take-out food. Bong water. Nightmares …

This is a senior editor’s office at The New Republic. Like all the rooms here it is small and austere; a natural habitat for amphetamine-powered liberals in white shirtsleeves – or if female, a Hillary Suit in crypto-sexual earth tones. Apart from the stacks of festering garbage, the only decoration is a bust of Pontius Pilate bearing the legend, “What is Truth?”

The senior editor himself, whom I’ll call Shifty, looks as if he has never been out of this office, perhaps having evolved out of the huge patch of oatmeal-colored mold that’s creeping up the wall. I am here to see Shifty because he has somehow gotten inserted into the long and tangled editorial chain between the writing and the publication of a piece – that is, he has been called upon to do some actual editing. Imagine Queen Elizabeth being ordered to drive up to Yorkshire and clean a septic tank.

Shifty grabs the article out of my hand and begins to read. This turns out to be a most unpleasant thing to witness, because he apparently stops breathing when he reads. By the time he gets to the third page his hands are trembling and a blue cyanotic stain is creeping up his face and down his neck. Finally he finishes and slams the piece down on his desk, then looks up and fixes me with an icy stare.

“Spiders don’t have lungs,” he says.

“What? Okay. But, uh, there’s not actually anything about spiders in that piece. It’s about the G8 Summit.”

“I know what it’s about, retard, I just read it!” He grabs the pages and throws them at my face. “My point is, spiders don’t have lungs!”

“Okay. Why are you saying that? What does that mean?”

“My God, can’t you hear them? Breathing in the walls? But I know it’s not spiders – I know there’s not a big tangled clump of bloated spiders breathing behind the walls, because spiders don’t have lungs!” His voice drops to a horrified whisper. “Do they?

“Actually I think they do.”

“What?”

“Insects don’t have lungs,” I explain, “but a lot of arachnids have lungs. So if there was like a huge cluster of giant Black Widow spiders in there - with glistening, pulsating abdomens – I guess they’d all be breathing. If that’s what you were thinking of. Or if it was, like, big honking scorpions or something.”

This information seems to calm him a bit, and he settles back in his chair. “Then, I’m not crazy.”

“God, no,” I say, picking up the pages off the floor. “You’d be crazy not to worry. You want me to put something about spiders in the article? You know, to warn people?”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. Spiders, and something bad about Dick Cheney. That should fix it up.”

Friday, June 15, 2007

Friday Dead Cat Blogging

When in despair of men's souls, blog the cat.

Except that the cat is dead, and has been dead for some time. It has joined a growing list of things that aren't there anymore. Long before the cat there was a beloved dog. Then there are older friends, relatives, and mentors who disappeared in a short period of time. And children I knew who disappeared into adulthood with shocking suddenness. And of course, True Love.

Like many people I show my respect for these missing things by not replacing them, or replacing them with something different and less valuable. Only I go too far with it. But I prefer my ways to the more popular method of treating the people in your life as possessions and transactions, always on the lookout for a better deal.

The main thing I lost and never replaced was myself. But that was a small loss.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Israel, the Palestinians, and the Cyber-Donks (Part One)

Yesterday Charles Johnson linked to a Daily Kos diary in which the diarist – an Israeli - calls it quits, with one of the best door-slammer endings ever: “I came to this site with Leftist Zionist Environmentalist Pro-Peace ideology (Meretz style). I leave it with a heavy doubt of the entire ‘Progressive’ ideology, morals and goals.”

I briefly skimmed the comments to this diary and something caught my eye. I don’t usually read the comments at Kos, partly because the signature lines tend to be longer than the comments and it is very annoying to be subjected to the same tag-line slogan over and over. But what caught my eye was this:

“Israel/Palestine is not a germane topic for this site to begin with. The Kos himself has said so many times, and I agree with him. … It's been said here many times - it is a THIRD RAIL that blogsites touch at their peril. Kos blocks diaries that try to bring this topic up … Pro-Israel and Pro-Palestinian arguments HAVE NO PLACE HERE. Most people here, frankly, are not interested in discussing this chronically intractable subject.”

It’s a stunning admission for “progressives” who claim to speak credibly on world events to say that they are not interested in talking about Israel and the Palestinians. Besides being a salient feature of the international landscape, it is a very important part of American political culture – the culture that the progs are trying to harness and ride for a saddle-pony. The comment claims that “The Kos himself” tries to steer Kos away from such discussion, even to the point of deletion. And I found that very strange.

I already knew, as most people who read the blogs know, that one does not turn to the left for detailed discussion of Israel and the Palestinians. As the departing Kos diarist noted, there are an unnerving number of people over there who seem to assume that Noam Chomsky has said the last word on the subject. Still, the left has articulated lots of pro-Israeli - and even pro-Zionist - opinion in the past. For many decades there has been a lot of left and center-left interest in a positive future for Israel, so why does it suddenly and emphatically HAVE NO PLACE HERE? And above all, SAYS WHO?

More to come.

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Second Dialogue on Liberalism

SOCRATES: In our last dialogue, we discovered the first fundamental principle of Liberalism: “Liberals never shop at Walmart.” Where shall our pursuit of wisdom lead us next?

GLEN: I think we might have more luck if we started with the origins of Liberalism, and explored the Classical Liberal answers to all forms of political, cultural, and economic authoritarianism. You would especially benefit from that discussion, Socrates.

SOCRATES: Then let us not keep our insatiable mistress Philosophy waiting another instant. Phaedo is boycotting our dialogues, because he says they undermine the revolutionary consciousness of the masses. But Crito is here –

CRITO: Death to Walmart.

SOCRATES: And Alcibiades wants to participate, but only if he can play Julia Roberts.

GLEN: No, no, no. No way. Julia Roberts doesn’t even count as a real Liberal.

CRITO: Says who?

ALCIBIADES: Yeah, who made you the big Liberal Pope, anyway? I’ve been working on this costume all day.

GLEN: I’m not having any of that in this house. You guys can go to a bar if you want to do that stuff. No Julia Roberts, or no dialogue. That’s it.

ALCIBIADES: A curse on Liberals and their stupid sexist rules! I guess this is what the glass ceiling looks like, right? Here’s you guys way up here, and a girl can’t even get her foot in the door.

CRITO: How did you get your feet into those shoes?

SOCRATES: Now, we’re wasting arguing time that could be spent to advance Philosophy. Let’s begin, shall we?

CRITO: I need a drink first. What do Liberals drink?

GLEN: Ethanol, I think. In extreme cases, domestic white wine.

CRITO: Domestic white wine? Apollo’s Balls, I knew this was a bad idea! I knew I never should have let Socrates talk me into this!

ALCIBIADES: What’s the matter, Crito? You scared?

CRITO: Shut up! Screw you guys. You can laugh at me all you want, but I’ve heard terrible stories about people who turn into Liberals. It started out just like this, too. It was like, “I’ll just do a little bit of it at a party, and it’ll be no big deal.” Then they wind up like Euthyphro.

SOCRATES: What happened to Euthyphro?

CRITO: He started reading The American Prospect. Just now and then, no big deal, right? Well, he got himself so worked up over health care issues that he sued his own father, because his father wouldn’t pay for one of his slaves to have a sex-change operation. But the court capped the emotional suffering damages, so Euthyphro decides to vote for John Kerry, because Kerry is against tort reform. Well, once he did that, it was one long downward spiral. Last I heard, he had to go see Hippocrates because he had a broken bottle of Naomi Campbell nail polish in his ass.

ALCIBIADES: How did he get a broken bottle of nail polish in his ass?

CRITO: He can’t buy things at Walmart now, so he has to shop-lift. He was coming out of Walmart, and some neoconservative punks started pushing him around because of his Dixie Chicks tee-shirt. Then the police came, and they started beating Euthyphro too, because of the Patriot Act. They threw him down on the cement so hard that the bottle of nail polish in his ass broke.

SOCRATES: Yeah, right. He probably fell down, from drinking too much ethanol.

GLEN: Get the hell out of here. That never happened.

ALCIBIADES: Yeah, voting for John Kerry? That’s pretty far out. Euthyphro is so full of crap.

CRITO: Well, now he’s full of Naomi Campbell nail polish, too, and that’s not going to happen to me.

ALCIBIADES: You know, maybe this whole Liberal thing isn’t such a good idea. I mean, why take a chance like that?

SOCRATES: Don’t be absurd. I don’t believe a word of it.

GLEN: Neither do I. I mean, The American Prospect sucks, but it isn’t that bad.

SOCRATES: The American Prospect isn’t that bad.” We’ve discovered another fundamental principle of Liberalism!

CRITO: Okay, fine –

GLEN: Wow, they’re falling like ripe apples.

CRITO: Okay, good, good. Let’s just stop right now, okay? Let’s just stop.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

First Dialogue on Liberalism

SOCRATES: Phaedo and I have been discussing the politics of your Republic, in an attempt to understand some of its more difficult concepts. We are currently studying “Liberalism”, but we cannot discover its essential nature, so we would like to propose a dialectical exercise to you. Let us have a dialogue in which each of us plays the part of a Liberal, discussing various subjects as Liberals would discuss them, and by this pretence we hope to increase our understanding of their philosophy.

GLEN: All right. What kind of Liberals are we going to be?

SOCRATES: Well, what are our choices? Prepare us a Liberal buffet, if you will.

GLEN: Well, you have Classical Liberals, Utilitarian Liberals, Keynesian Liberals, Social Democratic Liberals, Cold War Liberals, Post-Kennedy Liberals, New Age Liberals, East Coast Intellectual Liberals and West Coast Hedonist Liberals and Hornless Corn-fed Great Plains Liberals, and your endless varieties of Cultural Liberals …

PHAEDO: What are those Liberals who run around and have sex on your roof in the middle of the night?

GLEN: Cats, Phaedo. Those are cats.

PHAEDO: Oh.

SOCRATES: Let us take this approach. We’ve assembled a number of texts from your library that deal with Liberalism, and perhaps we can find a definitive model there. Up from Liberalism, by William F. Buckley. Down with Liberalism, by Ann Coulter. Over the Hills and Through the Woods to Grandmother’s House with Liberalism, by Hillary Rodham Clinton, with illustrations by Sidney Blumenthal …

GLEN: No, no, and no. Keep going.

SOCRATES: You sure? That last one got a National Book Award. It’s got a little gold thing on the cover, see? And the pictures are really cute.

GLEN: Yeah, I see that, but we need something more definitive.

SOCRATES: Okay, how about The 120 Days of Sodom by the Marquis de Sade?

GLEN: Pffft! What?

SOCRATES: Alcibiades suggested that one. He says it’s a bedtime story for pussy Liberals.

GLEN: No, that one is out, and anything else Alcibiades suggested is out, too.

SOCRATES: Science and British Liberalism, by Struan Jacobs. Virtue and the Making of Modern Liberalism, by Peter Berkowitz. And A Child’s Garden of Maoist Praxis, which contains a brief essay entitled “Combat Liberalism”.

GLEN: There you go. Mao is just what we’re looking for.

SOCRATES: Really? Is this book rich in the wisdom of the Far East, then?

GLEN: Maoism is so mind-blowingly rich in Far East wisdom that all other Philosophy was violently suppressed, so as not to distract people from the one true path.

PHAEDO: Wow.

SOCRATES: “Combat Liberalism” sounds like a cool kind of Liberalism, too.

PHAEDO: Can we do that one? Let’s do that one.

SOCRATES: Okay, here’s our definition, then: “People who are liberals look upon the principles of Marxism as abstract dogma. They talk Marxism but practice liberalism; they apply Marxism to others but liberalism to themselves. How shall we enact this?

GLEN: You and I will be the Liberals, and we’ll apply the Marxism to Phaedo.

SOCRATES: Agreed.

PHAEDO: Wait a minute – what?

SOCRATES: It’s just a dialectical exercise, Phaedo, to enrich Philosophy.

GLEN: Phaedo doesn’t care about Philosophy. He’s a poser.

PHAEDO: I am not a poser! I love Philosophy, I just don’t see why it has to be applied to me. And “Marxism” sounds like something Dionysius would do to a goat.

SOCRATES: The greater the discomfort, Phaedo, the greater the sacrifice for Philosophy. Okay, how do we apply the Marxism to him?

GLEN: Phaedo, we need you to build fifty radios by the end of the month.

PHAEDO: What? How am I supposed to do that?

GLEN: By volunteering to work day and night for nothing, in order to fulfill the glorious economic plan.

PHAEDO: Why would I volunteer to work day and night for nothing?

GLEN: Trust me, you just did. And if you keep complaining, you’re going to be volunteering for a self-criticism session.

SOCRATES: Okay, I’m a Liberal, too. What do I get to do?

GLEN: You tell people how happy Phaedo is to be building radios for us, and how much better off he is now that we’ve applied Marxism to him. Oh, and tell them that his literacy has improved.

SOCRATES: But all of those statements are false. Why would I tell people that?

GLEN: If anybody contradicts you, call them a McCarthyite and accuse them of questioning your patriotism.

SOCRATES: Okay. I’m not sure that Phaedo can build even one radio, though. He’s not very good with devices. He can’t even lift the toilet seat.

GLEN: The radios don’t have to work. He just has to build them, or else convince us that his manager is a saboteur who stole all the parts and sold them on the black market.

PHAEDO: But you already have a radio. Why do you want fifty radios?

GLEN: Because our capitalist neighbors have a radio, and if we have fifty it will prove the superiority of our Philosophy to theirs.

SOCRATES: It will? Okay. What will we do with so many radios?

GLEN: We’ll give Phaedo a free radio, of course, and we’ll open a store to sell the surplus radios.

SOCRATES: But who’s going to buy radios that don’t work?

GLEN: Phaedo. Who else?

PHAEDO: Wait a minute. I build all these radios for nothing, and then I have to go to your stupid store and buy them from you?

GLEN: First of all, it’s not my store, it’s the People’s Store. And second, from now on you’re only allowed to buy things from the People. No more shopping at Walmart.

PHAEDO: This sucks.

GLEN: Of course it sucks. That’s what’s so great about it. Absolutely nobody is going to profit from it.

SOCRATES: This is very interesting. But have we discovered any essential Liberal principles yet?

GLEN: Yes. “No shopping at Walmart.”

SOCRATES: Wow, this shit really works. Go, Combat Liberals!