So the San Diego Padres, in a gesture of good will to the gay community, hosted a pride night at yesterday’s game. Given that many gay couples go to the games are families with kids, the Padres cheerfully offered to give their kids 14 and younger free Padres floppy hats. Of course you just know this made the kook pews go nuclear…
What began as a few angry parents in San Diego, has now turned into a major blunder on the part of the political powerbrokers within the Padres administrative offices. However, the Padres are not backing down. They are choosing the side of homosexuality over the protection of kids, as well as the rights of parents to choose when they teach their kids about sexuality. Parents at the July 8th game will be forced to explain homosexuality, lesbianism and transsexuality to their little boys and little girls because of the celebration of gay pride during the Braves-Padres game.
Rally organizer James Hartline hopes that educational flyers being distributed to families coming to the ballpark will discourage parents from bringing their children inside of the stadium where they will be exposed to radical elements of the homosexual movement. Rally sponsor Scott Lively, President of Defend the Family International, hopes that the Christian response to the gay pride celebration at Petco Park will serve as a catalyst for awakening parental responsibility in a very sexualized culture.
…"We will not abandon these kids to the destruction of homosexuality," says Dennis Martinez, a former national skateboard champion. A committed Christian and well-respected minister among America’s troubled youth, Martinez decided that he could not allow his ministry or its employees to compromise their commitment to Christ.
As boycotts go, yesterday’s protest at Petco Park flopped – like the hats.
Objecting to the confluence of two promotions at last night’s Padres game – “Pride Night,” a group event for local gays and lesbians, and a team giveaway of floppy hats to children 14 and younger – several Christian and conservative groups called for a public protest and boycott of the game.
Roughly 75 protesters showed up outside Petco Park’s front gate dressed in red T-shirts emblazoned with the message “Save Our Kids.” They handed out fliers. A few attempted to talk with Padre fans as they arrived for the 5:05 p.m. game that was nationally televised on ESPN.
“We’re here to inform parents, to warn them about what’s happening inside (the ballpark),” said James Hartline, a self-described Christian activist who directed the protest. “Bringing together homosexuals with baseball and kids is beyond bounds. We’re trying to get people to turn around, not go to the game, and we’re succeeding.”
If so, it wasn’t readily apparent. Official attendance for the game was 41,026, just short of a capacity crowd for the 42,685-seat ballpark.
And…oh look James…it wasn’t just the gay fans who were ignoring you…
“Values start and are taught in the home. Just because you see a bum on the street doesn’t turn you into a bum,” said Robert Davila of El Cajon before walking through the gates with his wife and two young children.
Not that gay people are bums…but you get the idea. Gay isn’t something you catch like a cold. But the subtext here, as always, isn’t that simply seeing gay people would turn the kids gay, but that gay people are predators that children should be taught to be afraid of. The better to make them fear and loath their gay classmates as they get older. The better to make them fear and loath themselves if they are gay. That’s what the Save Our Children slogan has always been about, ever since Antia Bryant used it back in 1977.
You can see why the bigots were bursting a vein over this. If gay and straight can sit down together with their families and enjoy a baseball game together, what next?
Six months after raising the curtain on their gourmet coffee shop in the beachside Indian Harbour Place shopping center, Laurie and Jim Hall decided to offer live music on Friday and Saturday nights.
The performers, normally duos, mainly covered songs written and made famous by other musicians. There was no cover charge, no pay for the musicians, no limit to how long patrons could sit on a couch with their coffee, playing chess and enjoying the music.
No problem.
Then a few months later, music industry giant ASCAP started calling and sending letters saying East Coast Coffee & Tea was in violation of copyright laws. The fee to continue the music was $400 a year.
"At the time, the shop was losing money, so we had to break it up into payments," said Laurie Hall. But the Halls paid, and the music continued.
Six months later, other music copyright companies began calling the Halls and demanding money. Most days there would be three or four phone calls from each company, Hall said. Finally, unable to afford the fees, she had to call most of her musicians — those who did not play original music — and tell them they would not be allowed to continue performing.
This aggressive — but legal — posture being taken by music licensing companies has the potential to unplug live music in many restaurants, bars and coffee shops in Brevard County.
Doesn’t this sound vaguely familiar? First they agree to payoff the one guy…and then another guy shows up demanding money…and then another…and then another…
Andrus, the owner of Lou’s Blues, said he has had many run-ins with the copyright companies over the years.
"It started 15 years ago when I had a guy come out to our other place, Cantina dos Amigos, and play Mexican music on his guitar on the patio," Andrus said. "They came after me for money. Are they really sending royalty checks to the songwriter in Mexico?"
Andrus said he pays BMI and ASCAP about $3,000 a year but is ignoring the smaller companies that seek royalties from him.
"There are so many damned companies you don’t know who to pay," he said. "One guy called and said I had to pay him if I played any gospel music at all. It’s really a mess."
…
And in no way do the songs have to be performed live, or even on the radio, to elicit calls for royalties.
Andrus said a friend of his who owned a restaurant that did not feature music was contacted by a company looking to charge him because it owned the rights to a Hank Williams Jr. song, "Are You Ready for Some Football?" The song preceded every "Monday Night Football" telecast, which the restaurant carried on its televisions.
What next? A shakedown of street performers who play for tips? If the music companies had their way you wouldn’t be able to whistle a tune in public without paying them royalties.
My friend Jon was explaining to me the other day that he’d had a hard time directing people to A Coming Out Story, in conversations where he couldn’t actually give someone a link, because it was buried a tad deep in the structure of my web site. He’d tell them to go to my main page at brucegarrett.com, but from there it wasn’t obvious how to get to A Coming Out Story. he suggested a link right off the main home page, which I did a little while ago (and I added one to the left column here). But that brought me back to mind about how I’d been wanting to restructure the cartoon page generally.
I’ve been needing to give some of my other cartoon formats their own pages here for a while now. I’ve been tossing out these little cartoons onto the blog that never fit on the political cartoon page, or anywhere else. Some multi-panel stuff with Mark and Josh, and just some random fun stuff like Sergeant Stoneface – Love Detective. They all needed their own pages.
So now they have them, and the cartoon page, instead of being only for the political cartoons (which you may have noticed I’m not doing that much of these days…) is now a central jumping off point to get to all the others. The political cartoon page has it’s own link off the cartoon page now, as does A Coming Out Story and Mark and Josh’s cartoons and a miscellaneous Fun page where all the random fun stuff will go. All the existing links to individual cartoon pages should still work and not be broken. But if you come across a broken link please let me know about it and I’ll fix it as soon as I can get to it.
So the morning after our Forth of July party, Jon and I are out getting a bite to eat at Panera Bread, a nearby sandwich shop. Jon is still playing with his new iPhone, and he wants to see how well it works with the free wireless hotspot at Panera Bread.
We sit down to a light breakfast (really light for me because I’m still feeling a tad hungover from the previous night…), and Jon calls up a few items on the Safari browser built into the iPhone. Then for kicks and grins he tries to call up my web site. But the wireless at Panera Bread blocks it, with a message that my site is being blocked because its content is pornographic.
WTF??? The most risqué this site gets is on the cartoon prologue to my cartoon series A Coming Out Story, where I talk about the time my straight high school pals dragged me to see my first X-rated movie. I’d give the content of that one an R rating at best. I just don’t do X. X is obvious. I don’t do obvious, I don’t feel comfortable treating sex that way. It isn’t me. (There’s a reason why the character of my Libido in A Coming Out Story is always wearing a fig leaf…) I figure some blue nosed jackass took a look at my site and saw that it was full of unashamedly gay content and complained to the filtering software company.
The blocking message provides a link to where you can complain if you think you’re being blocked unfairly, and I give it some thought. I’m not entirely happy about being accused of being a pornographer. But on the other hand, I’m certain this isn’t about any suggestive content in my cartoons, so much as the political content of the blog, and perhaps the political cartoons. I’m gay, and I’m fine with that, and as far as some people are concerned, that makes me X-rated. Which makes this blocking notice I’m looking at a political statement.
Jon helpfully tells me that there are rating services I can subscribe to which will rate my website and help keep it unblocked, and I instantly have images of something like the old Comics Code Authority plastered on the top of my cartoons and I hate it. No. No. That is not going to happen. The only rating my cartoons, or anything else on my web site that I publish will ever have stamped on them, is the only one that matters: My name.
I may still request a little clarification from the filtering company that Panera Bread is using. In the meantime, if you have trouble accessing my website from some public place send me an email and I’ll tell you a few ways to get past it. Jon and I eventually brought my website up at Panera Bread’s anyway. And in the context of Kultar Kampf, being censored is more like a badge of honor then a stain on your reputation.
Yesterday, on the way to our weekly happy hour gathering, I tell Joe about having my web site censored for pornographic content. He congratulates me.
"The Internet treats censorship as damage, and it routes around it."
-John Gilmore
[Edited a Tad…] In the comments Jon tells me it was Panera Bread not Cosi as I’d originally said…
I bought my iPhone yesterday morning, after hemming and hawing over it for…oh…about 38 hours. 38 hours being the timespan between the moment one of my friends showed me his iPhone, and getting my hands on one of my own. For some time now I’ve been waiting for that all-purpose cell phone/music/email/entertainment widget to appear on the market and I figured the iPhone would be it. But I wanted to wait a generation to let them work out the bugs. Then I had a chance to get my hands on one and I realized then that I’d been thinking about this sort of device all wrong.
Last Wednesday I’d been invited over to a friend’s condo in Washington D.C. for the annual fireworks show. From John’s condo you can see the Mall fireworks nicely. I stopped by my friend Jon Larimore’s place beforehand, where he and his boyfriend Joe were waiting to spring the trap on me. "Look at what Joe bought me," says Jon happily as I walk in the door. He’s holding out his iPhone. Joe had walked into an Apple store the day before and bought two, one for himself and one for his other half. A few hours later we drove over to John’s condo for the fireworks. Our usual Friday happy hour gang showed up along with some of his other friends. The crowd was mostly gay computer geeks, a subset of gay you won’t generally find in the movies they show on Logo. Everyone swarmed around John and Joe’s iPhones like bees to honey. I couldn’t blame them. The moment I got my hands on one, my fingers just didn’t want to let go.
They are sweet little gizmos. The touch screen user interface is the candy that attracts the eye, but what attracts the imagination is how it brings together several different threads of information technology into one device, and right away you can see ways in which they relate that you didn’t before. The one thing a little gizmo can do to win my heart is show me something I wasn’t expecting from the technology, but which in retrospect I should have seen coming. In the case of the iPhone, believe it or not, what it was, was the integration of the wireless networks, the address book, and Google Maps. Suddenly I had a map of the whole goddamned world in the palm of my hand and it could tell me exactly where everything in my address book was located, from where I was standing right then, right that moment, if I wanted it to.
The iPhone doesn’t have a GPS unit built-in yet, but I can see that coming down the road. Still, if I need to see where I am on a map in most urban zones I can just walk up to the nearest door, read the street address off it and plug that into the iPhone and get my location on a map back. Then if I want to know where a certain place is from where I am I can plug that address in, perhaps from my address book, and I get back a map with path lines and a set of directions. Or if I just want to see what’s in my general vicinity I can scroll around the map with the touch of a finger or two. If I’m planning on driving somewhere, a few touches here and there and I can get a traffic map of the area. Two fingers can zoom out or zoom in on just about any iPhone display with simple, obvious, pinching or expanding motions. The user interface is sweet. The screen is made of glass, not plastic, and the entire unit feels solid to the touch.
James Burke once said that data isn’t important. What’s important are the connections between the data. My old Kyocera Smart Phone linked my Palm address book and the cell phone in a way I thought was useful. So when I decided to get the iPhone I migrated my Palm data into the address book and calendar applications on Akela, my Mac Powerbook. Then I bought a .Mac account so the address book and calendars on both my Macs could sync up with each other, and then the iPhone, even when I’m away from home. (The only major gripe I have so far with the iPhone is that the note taking applet doesn’t let you sync your notes too. I really need that. But I can wait for it.) So now I had the links between my address book and the iPhone established. To that I added links to my two household Macs, and the web too, since a .Mac account allows me to view my personal data from anywhere, and share selected bits of it with others. Then yesterday while I was at Jon’s house, Jon showed me how you can tap on an address and the iPhone will bring it up on Google Maps. Seeing how that worked I realized that there wasn’t any reason now, why all my personal data can’t be linked in some way to the general storehouse of information on the net, and that those links could tell me things about my personal world that I hadn’t seen before.
We had our usual happy hour last night, and I and another friend, Tom, brought our brand new iPhones along. You have to picture this little clutch of gay geeks walking into a gay bar brandishing iPhones as we chat with each other. Later that evening several of us were driving together out of D.C., chatting about this and that. The conversation strayed to books we all wished we’d had the time to read and Tom, asked me if I’d ever read a certain mystery writer. I said I hadn’t and tried to tell him about another one whose books I’ve just loved over the years and I had a brain block and for the life of me I could not recall that writers name at just that moment. So while we’re all riding down the highway I start tapping away on my iPhone. I bring up Google and do a quick search on the names of two of this writer’s characters I remember, and I instantly get a page of search results back that tell me the name of the writer. That took me maybe thirty seconds. Then a few more miles down the road the conversation stayed into singers and sentimental songs and Vera Lynn and how you never hear those deeply felt sentimental ballads on the radio anymore. I mentioned a favorite of mine from my teen years that I hadn’t realized until recently was about the Vietnam war and Jon asked me who had composed it and once again I got a brain block and just couldn’t remember the name of the composer. A few taps on the iPhone later and I had it.
There’s a story I’ve heard the science-fiction writer Arthur C. Clarke tell. He was trying to make a point about space exploration, but I think it makes the same point about any emerging technologies. Suppose, he asks, you could go back about 500 million years and ask a reasonably intelligent fish why fish should bother trying to colonize the land masses. Fish breath and live in water. Air is a dangerous place for fish to be. Colonizing the land would be costly and difficult. But this particular fish, being a reasonably intelligent and progressive member of his species, might be able to give you many, logical, sound, progressive reasons why, despite all the hazards and cost and difficulties, fish should try to colonize the land. It might tell you that in learning to colonize the land, fishkind would learn more about how to take care of the seas. It might tell you that all sorts of new technologies would be invented along the way that would benefit the lives of fish. It would never have thought of fire.
So…last night I rode down the highway with some friends, looked at the iPhone in the palm of my hand, and I beheld fire. There are other devices recently that have tried to put all these technologies together into one hand held device, but they’ve been really awkward to use, or at least I’ve found them so and I’m someone who never had trouble programming a VCR. In the iPhone Apple has brought everything together into a seamless whole and now suddenly you can see a horizon before you that you never expected: what life is like when the answer to anything you want to know is literally in your pocket. As time goes on other companies will probably take the hint and start designing these devices to be more then simply cell phones with some extra widgets tacked on. The phone part of the iPhone may end up being the part of it I use the least.
Theory and experiment alike become meaningless unless the scientist brings to them, and his fellows can assume in him, the respect of a lucid honesty with himself. The mathematician and philosopher W. K. Clifford said this forcibly at the end of his short life, nearly a hundred years ago.
If I steal money from any person, there may be no harm done by the mere transfer of possession; he may not feel the loss, or it may even prevent him from using the money badly. But I cannot help doing this great wrong towards Man, that I make myself dishonest. What hurts society is not that it should loose it’s property, but that it should become a den of thieves; for then it must cease to be a society. This is why we ought not to do evil that good may come; for at any rate this great evil has come, that we have done evil and are made wicked thereby.
This is the scientist’s moral: that there is no distinction between ends and means. Clifford goes on to put this in terms of the scientist’s practice:
In like manner, if I let myself believe anything on insufficient evidence, there may be no great harm done by the mere belief; it may be true after all, or I may never have occasion to exhibit it in outward acts. But I cannot help doing this great wrong towards man, that I make myself credulous. The danger to society is not merely that it should believe wrong things, though that is great enough; but that it should become credulous.
And the passion in Clifford’s tone shows that to him the word credulous had the same emotional force as ‘a den of thieves’
The fulcrum of Clifford’s ethic here, and mine, is the phrase ‘it may be true after all.’ Others may allow this to justify their conduct; the practice of science wholly rejects it. It does not admit the word ‘true’ can have this meaning. The test of truth is the known factual evidence, and no glib expediency nor reason of state can justify the smallest self-deception in that. Our work is of a piece, in the large and in the detail; so that if we silence one scruple about our means, we infect ourselves and our ends together.
-Jacob Bronowski “Science and Human Values” 1956
Jim Burroway over at Box Turtle Bulletin and Mike Airhart over at Ex-Gay Watch react positively to a blog post by Exodus affiliated minister Karen Keen, about her experience attending some of the events at the Ex-Gay Survivor’s Conference. Jim calls it “…a very lovely and grace-filled post.” Mike says of it that it is an “…accurate, balanced and thoughtful account.” Allow me to be the grouch here. Accurate it may well have been. Balanced, perhaps. Graceful…well it depends. It was certainly polite. But I wouldn’t go so far even as to say it was respectful. What it was, was patronizing. There is a spiritual sense of the word ‘grace’ that speaks to unconditional loving and caring and unless you think that looking for better ways to put innocent people through unmitigated hell out of a thoughtless devotion to dogma amounts to grace I’d have to say grace filled, along with thoughtful it was not. When people say things like this you need to take it seriously for what it is…
As we munch on bok choy and shrimp, Scott, Sonia and I listen to stories and concerns regarding ex-gay ministry. Our goal is not to criticize or argue, but to take the concerns seriously and learn how ex-gay groups can improve their ministries.
Emphasis mine. She was there to observe the broken ones, and try to figure out some better ways of fixing them. To take the concerns of the people she sat down to dinner with seriously is a mutually exclusive proposition to learning how ex-gay groups can improve their ministries, because if going into it the assumption was that the people she was sitting down to eat with were broken and needed fixing, then the degree to which their concerns needed to be listened to was limited from the get-go. Clearly, the only thought she was willing to entertain throughout the course of her interaction with the people at the Survivor’s Conference was how to fix the fixing process. But that the fixing process could not not itself be fixed because it was based on a flawed and disastrous premise was never, Could Never be considered…er…Seriously. Which meant that she wasn’t so much listening to her dinner companions, as filtering what they were saying to her through the main preconception she brought to that dinner with her. This isn’t somebody who came to listen. But then she couldn’t.
When she says that the raw expressions she witnessed during the survivor’s chalk talk moved her more then she expected, I’m sure that was genuine. But that’s not to say it moved her very much, because what it should have made her was ashamed. Deeply, gravely, severely ashamed. There, right before her eyes, were the raw, anguished torn from the gut expressions of the suffering those people needlessly endured at the hands of the likes of her, simply for being homosexual. And even that was not enough to make her question change. But it couldn’t have. In the end, she writes…
I realize I was drawn to the Survivor Conference because I love these people. In some impossible way, I long for camaraderie and unity with ex-ex-gays with whom I have shared so many of the same life struggles and pain. Yet, at the end of the day our roads lead us apart, and I wish it wasn’t so. I leave the Survivor Conference knowing it will be my last ex-ex-gay conference. I feel an ache in my heart—the kind of sadness that comes when breaking up with a lover. Even when irreconcilable differences are clear, and parting is the most honest thing to do, the loss is still felt. I want to take my friend by the hand and walk her down the same life path I am traveling, but I know I can’t.
And in the comments at Ex-Gay Watch she elaborates…
Another clarification–when I talk about how the two groups (ex gay and ex-ex gay) are on separate roads that lead apart, I did not mean to infer that I will not engage in dialogue anymore. I am always open to hearing people’s thoughts and stories. I comment on this a bit in response to someone’s comment on my blog. What I was describing is that the two movements have different goals that cannot be reconciled. I am all for church unity, but there are some things that cannot be unified without comprising our own personal integrity.
Integrity. I happen to believe that the so called “clobber passages” of the bible don’t actually say what a lot of homophobes think they say. But let’s assume for the sake of argument that they do. So what. In addition to calling on the faithful to put homosexuals to death, the bible also insists that the faithful not suffer witches to live. Innocent people died once upon a time in Salem Massachusetts because of those passages, and you best believe that the people who put them to death did so in good conscience, and prayed afterwards for God to have mercy on the immortal souls of those poor devil possessed witches. But it is not integrity to put theology above the observable and knowable humanity of the old woman whose head your are putting into a noose. The word for that is fanaticism.
It is not at the end of the day that Karen Keen’s road diverged from that of the survivors. It was at the beginning, at that point along the way where we all decide whether we will walk down the path before us with our eyes wide open or not. That the survivors eventually came to the conclusion that their treatment at the hands of the ex-gay ministries was not only not working, but could not be made to work, and then that it was unnecessary to begin with, doesn’t mean that they had fallen back into “the lifestyle” but that at least after some horrific measure of pain and suffering they were willing, finally, to let the evidence speak for itself. When you embrace a religious faith that insists its written dogmas have to count for more then the observable facts, more even, then your own first hand experience, more then the witnessing of pain and suffering, your personal integrity is the first thing you give up.
As Jacob Bronowski wrote in Science and Human Values…
The state of mind, the state of society, is of a piece. When we discard the test of fact in what a star is, we discard in it what a man is.
Likewise, when we discard the test of fact in what a homosexual is, we also discard in it the human being that they, and you, are. Integrity.
When I saw this photo on Made In Brazil, taken on a Paris fashion runway, at first I was disgusted. Then I thought about it some more and realized that nothing would piss off those fundamentalist nutcases like being made into a sex object. Take that al Qaeda…
Actually…I could see that as a fashion statement. There are lots of guys who would benefit enormously from having their faces hidden. Just not the rest of them…
"I didn’t vote for him," an American once said, "But he’s my president, and I hope he does a good job."
That — on this eve of the 4th of July — is the essence of this democracy, in 17 words. And that is what President Bush threw away yesterday in commuting the sentence of Lewis "Scooter" Libby.
The man who said those 17 words — improbably enough — was the actor John Wayne. And Wayne, an ultra-conservative, said them, when he learned of the hair’s-breadth election of John F. Kennedy instead of his personal favorite, Richard Nixon in 1960.
"I didn’t vote for him but he’s my president, and I hope he does a good job."
The sentiment was doubtlessly expressed earlier, but there is something especially appropriate about hearing it, now, in Wayne’s voice: The crisp matter-of-fact acknowledgment that we have survived, even though for nearly two centuries now, our Commander-in-Chief has also served, simultaneously, as the head of one political party and often the scourge of all others.
We as citizens must, at some point, ignore a president’s partisanship. Not that we may prosper as a nation, not that we may achieve, not that we may lead the world — but merely that we may function.
But just as essential to the seventeen words of John Wayne, is an implicit trust — a sacred trust: That the president for whom so many did not vote, can in turn suspend his political self long enough, and for matters imperative enough, to conduct himself solely for the benefit of the entire Republic.
Our generation’s willingness to state "we didn’t vote for him, but he’s our president, and we hope he does a good job," was tested in the crucible of history, and earlier than most.
And in circumstances more tragic and threatening. And we did that with which history tasked us.
We enveloped our President in 2001. And those who did not believe he should have been elected — indeed those who did not believe he had been elected — willingly lowered their voices and assented to the sacred oath of non-partisanship.
And George W. Bush took our assent, and re-configured it, and honed it, and shaped it to a razor-sharp point and stabbed this nation in the back with it.
Were there any remaining lingering doubt otherwise, or any remaining lingering hope, it ended yesterday when Mr. Bush commuted the prison sentence of one of his own staffers.
Did so even before the appeals process was complete; did so without as much as a courtesy consultation with the Department of Justice; did so despite what James Madison — at the Constitutional Convention — said about impeaching any president who pardoned or sheltered those who had committed crimes "advised by" that president; did so without the slightest concern that even the most detached of citizens must look at the chain of events and wonder: To what degree was Mr. Libby told: break the law however you wish — the President will keep you out of prison?
In that moment, Mr. Bush, you broke that fundamental com-pact between yourself and the majority of this nation’s citizens — the ones who did not cast votes for you. In that moment, Mr. Bush, you ceased to be the President of the United States. In that moment, Mr. Bush, you became merely the President of a rabid and irresponsible corner of the Republican Party. And this is too important a time, Sir, to have a commander-in-chief who puts party over nation.
This has been, of course, the gathering legacy of this Administration. Few of its decisions have escaped the stain of politics. The extraordinary Karl Rove has spoken of "a permanent Republican majority," as if such a thing — or a permanent Democratic majority — is not antithetical to that upon which rests: our country, our history, our revolution, our freedoms.
Yet our Democracy has survived shrewder men than Karl Rove. And it has survived the frequent stain of politics upon the fabric of government. But this administration, with ever-increasing insistence and almost theocratic zealotry, has turned that stain into a massive oil spill.
The protection of the environment is turned over to those of one political party, who will financially benefit from the rape of the environment. The protections of the Constitution are turned over to those of one political party, who believe those protections unnecessary and extravagant and quaint.
The enforcement of the laws is turned over to those of one political party, who will swear beforehand that they will not enforce those laws. The choice between war and peace is turned over to those of one political party, who stand to gain vast wealth by ensuring that there is never peace, but only war.
And now, when just one cooked book gets corrected by an honest auditor, when just one trampling of the inherent and inviolable fairness of government is rejected by an impartial judge, when just one wild-eyed partisan is stopped by the figure of blind justice, this President decides that he, and not the law, must prevail.
I accuse you, Mr. Bush, of lying this country into war.
I accuse you of fabricating in the minds of your own people, a false implied link between Saddam Hussein and 9/11.
I accuse you of firing the generals who told you that the plans for Iraq were disastrously insufficient.
I accuse you of causing in Iraq the needless deaths of 3,586 of our brothers and sons, and sisters and daughters, and friends and neighbors.
I accuse you of subverting the Constitution, not in some misguided but sincerely-motivated struggle to combat terrorists, but to stifle dissent.
I accuse you of fomenting fear among your own people, of creating the very terror you claim to have fought.
I accuse you of exploiting that unreasoning fear, the natural fear of your own people who just want to live their lives in peace, as a political tool to slander your critics and libel your opponents.
I accuse you of handing part of this Republic over to a Vice President who is without conscience, and letting him run roughshod over it.
And I accuse you now, Mr. Bush, of giving, through that Vice President, carte blanche to Mr. Libby, to help defame Ambassador Joseph Wilson by any means necessary, to lie to Grand Juries and Special Counsel and before a court, in order to protect the mechanisms and particulars of that defamation, with your guarantee that Libby would never see prison, and, in so doing, as Ambassador Wilson himself phrased it here last night, of becoming an accessory to the obstruction of justice.
When President Nixon ordered the firing of the Watergate special prosecutor Archibald Cox during the infamous "Saturday Night Massacre" on October 20th, 1973, Cox initially responded tersely, and ominously.
"Whether ours shall be a government of laws and not of men, is now for Congress, and ultimately, the American people."
President Nixon did not understand how he had crystallized the issue of Watergate for the American people.
It had been about the obscure meaning behind an attempt to break in to a rival party’s headquarters; and the labyrinthine effort to cover-up that break-in and the related crimes.
And in one night, Nixon transformed it.
Watergate — instantaneously — became a simpler issue: a President overruling the inexorable march of the law of insisting — in a way that resonated viscerally with millions who had not previously understood – that he was the law.
Not the Constitution. Not the Congress. Not the Courts. Just him.
Just – Mr. Bush – as you did, yesterday.
The twists and turns of Plame-Gate, of your precise and intricate lies that sent us into this bottomless pit of Iraq; your lies upon the lies to discredit Joe Wilson; your lies upon the lies upon the lies to throw the sand at the "referee" of Prosecutor Fitzgerald’s analogy. These are complex and often painful to follow, and too much, perhaps, for the average citizen.
But when other citizens render a verdict against your man, Mr. Bush — and then you spit in the faces of those jurors and that judge and the judges who were yet to hear the appeal — the average citizen understands that, Sir.
It’s the fixed ballgame and the rigged casino and the pre-arranged lottery all rolled into one — and it stinks. And they know it.
Nixon’s mistake, the last and most fatal of them, the firing of Archibald Cox, was enough to cost him the presidency. And in the end, even Richard Nixon could say he could not put this nation through an impeachment.
It was far too late for it to matter then, but as the decades unfold, that single final gesture of non-partisanship, of acknowledged responsibility not to self, not to party, not to "base," but to country, echoes loudly into history. Even Richard Nixon knew it was time to resign
Would that you could say that, Mr. Bush. And that you could say it for Mr. Cheney. You both crossed the Rubicon yesterday. Which one of you chose the route, no longer matters. Which is the ventriloquist, and which the dummy, is irrelevant.
But that you have twisted the machinery of government into nothing more than a tawdry machine of politics, is the only fact that remains relevant.
It is nearly July 4th, Mr. Bush, the commemoration of the moment we Americans decided that rather than live under a King who made up the laws, or erased them, or ignored them — or commuted the sentences of those rightly convicted under them — we would force our independence, and regain our sacred freedoms.
We of this time — and our leaders in Congress, of both parties — must now live up to those standards which echo through our history: Pressure, negotiate, impeach — get you, Mr. Bush, and Mr. Cheney, two men who are now perilous to our Democracy, away from its helm.
For you, Mr. Bush, and for Mr. Cheney, there is a lesser task. You need merely achieve a very low threshold indeed. Display just that iota of patriotism which Richard Nixon showed, on August 9th, 1974.
Resign.
And give us someone — anyone — about whom all of us might yet be able to quote John Wayne, and say, "I didn’t vote for him, but he’s my president, and I hope he does a good job."
You have to think that there are people in Washington, almost certainly among the punditboro, now thinking to themselves that Nixon should have just pardoned the Watergate Burglars immediately…then he wouldn’t have needed to worry about burning his secret White House tape recordings because the investigations would have ground to a halt.
But back then Nixon would have still had to worry about impeachment in a way Bush never will. The republican party hadn’t yet sunk into the depths it has today. Today, if Bush was caught stuffing money he’d just stolen from a bank into the g-string of a 12 year old pole dancer (of either sex) on the White House lawn the republicans wouldn’t impeach him. If Bush walked out of the White House and shot a random tourist in the head the republicans wouldn’t impeach him. There’s no way they’re going to let him be impeached over the Scooter Libby affair.
Many others will note this but I feel obliged to do so for the record. The real offense here is not so much or not simply that the president has spared Scooter Libby the punishment that anyone else would have gotten for this crime (for what it’s worth, I actually find the commutation more outrageous than a full pardon). The deeper offense is that the president has used his pardon power to shortcircuit the investigation of a crime to which he himself was quite likely a party, and to which, his vice president, who controls him, certainly was.
The president’s power to pardon is full and unchecked, one of the few such powers given the president in the constitution. Yet here the president has used it to further obstruct justice. In a sense, perhaps we should thank the president for bringing the matter full circle. Began with criminality, ends with it.
Here on the Times Oped page you’ll see David Brooks column claiming that the information Joe Wilson brought before the public four years ago turned out to all be a crock, a bunch of lies. And we’ll let Brooks’ scribble be a stand-in for what you will hear universally today from the right — namely, that just as Scooter Libby was charged with perjury and not the underlying crime of burning an American spy, the deeper underlying offense, the lie about uranium from Africa, didn’t even exist — that at the end of the day it was revealed that Wilson’s claims, which started the whole train down the tracks, were discredited as lies.
You’ll even hear softer versions of this claim from mainstream media outlets not normally considered part of the rump of American conservatism.
There aren’t many subjects on which I claim expertise. But this is one of them. I think I know the details of this one — both the underlying story of the forgeries and their provenance and the epi-story of Wilson and Plame — as well as any journalist who’s written about the story. The Fitzgerald investigation is probably the part of it I know the least about, comparatively. (It is also incumbent on me to say that in the course of reporting on this story over these years I’ve gotten to know Joe Wilson fairly well. And I consider him a friend.)
And with that knowledge, I have to say that the claim that Wilson’s charges have been discredited, disproved or even meaningfully challenged is simply false. What he said on day one is all true. It’s really as simple as that.
Really. The entire Wilson/Plame affair is a textbook example of how the republican party Mighty Wurlitzer operates, hand in glove with the Washington press and the Washington punditboro. Never mind talk radio. This was an inside job. The beltway cool kids have been as unanimous in calling for Scooter’s pardon for obstructing justice in the case of outing a CIA agent as political retribution, as they were in calling for Clinton’s head for obstructing justice over a blow job.
There’s a tendency, even among too many people of good faith and good politics, to shy away from asserting and admitting this simple fact because Wilson has either gone on too many TV shows or preened too much in some photo shoot. But that is disreputable and shameful. The entire record of this story has been under a systematic, unfettered and, sadly, largely unresisted attack from the right for four years. Key facts have been buried under an avalanche of misinformation. The then-chairman of the senate intelligence committee made his committee an appendage of the White House and himself the president’s bawd and issued a report built on intentional falsehood and misdirection.
No one is perfect. The key dividing line is who’s telling the truth and who’s lying. Wilson is on the former side, his critics the latter. Everything else is triviality.
Garrison Keller was right: they’re republicans first and Americans second. Not just the men in power, but their courtiers in the news media and the punditboro. When they tell you that the break president Junior gave Scooter Libby is no big deal they are looking you right in the eye and lying through their teeth. It is exactly as Joshua Marshall says it is: "…the president has used his pardon power to shortcircuit the investigation of a crime to which he himself was quite likely a party, and to which, his vice president, who controls him, certainly was." And that crime wasn’t a blow job in the White House, it was damage to our intelligence gathering abilities, done for the sake of silencing a critic, sending a warning to others, and bringing the intelligence community to heel. When you see one of these gutter crawling thugs solemnly saluting the flag this Forth Of July, and speaking of the patriotism, and their love for America, remember it.
The prosecutor in the Plame case, Fitzgerald, issued the following statement regarding Bush’s commutation of Libby’s sentance…
We fully recognize that the Constitution provides that commutation decisions are a matter of presidential prerogative and we do not comment on the exercise of that prerogative.
We comment only on the statement in which the President termed the sentence imposed by the judge as “excessive.” The sentence in this case was imposed pursuant to the laws governing sentencings which occur every day throughout this country. In this case, an experienced federal judge considered extensive argument from the parties and then imposed a sentence consistent with the applicable laws. It is fundamental to the rule of law that all citizens stand before the bar of justice as equals. That principle guided the judge during both the trial and the sentencing.
Although the President’s decision eliminates Mr. Libby’s sentence of imprisonment, Mr. Libby remains convicted by a jury of serious felonies, and we will continue to seek to preserve those convictions through the appeals process.
Bush, through his press secretary, has indicated he may pardon Libby outright. Look for that to happen if Libby keeps loosing his appeals. Expect the Washington press to rejoice if he does.
Jim, one of the founders of the political blogosphere, started the Rittenhouse Review a week or two before Duncan Black started Eschaton.
He was my fairy blogfather. He showed me how to install a sitemeter, he gave me tips for building readership, and advised me to “pick a fight with a blogger who’s much better known – you can’t believe how well it works.” (I never took his advice, though.) He even paid to have the ugly banner ad removed from the top of my first site.
More than that, Jim was extraordinarily generous. A master networker, he insisted on introducing all of his friends to each other and they, in turn, became friends. “See?” he’d say. “I told you you’d hit it off.” In turn, I introduced him to the sweet potato fries and the chocolate bread pudding at Silk City.
Rittenhouse Review was one of the first progressive blogs I started reading regularly. Through his blog Jim introduced me to many others in the progressive blog sphere who I now regard as daily necessities. Atrios, and Fred Clark’s Slacktivist to name two. Jim was kind enough to put my little blog on his blogroll one day, and he emailed me some questions about why I was blogging, and would I mind being put on his blogger mailing list. I was just thrilled to have the attention. I quickly began to thoroughly enjoy Jim’s online company. Jim was a really good hearted man, and he had a curious, restless, hungry mind. His blog posts, which ranged far and wide across any topic that interested him only gave you a hint of it. I remember one day Jim emailed me out of the blue and asked if I could take some photos of a couple specific Christian Scientist temples in the Washington Baltimore area. He said he was doing research for a book on their architectural styles. Susie notes in her blog post…
Jim spoke God knows how many languages. I once met him for lunch when he walked in wearing a Walkman. This intrigued me, because he never, ever listened to popular music. “What are you listening to?” I said, pulling at the headphones.
“I’m teaching myself Dutch,” he said, almost apologetically.
Then one day, just as Susie mentions in the post above, Jim invited me to Philadelphia to meet his other blogger friends. That was when I got to meet Duncan Black (Atrios) and Fred Clark, and many other really nice folks…and of course Jim himself. It was a treat. You hear it over and over again how some people are much quieter and more soft spoken in person then they are online. That was true to a degree with Jim, but also he was if anything, more intense in person then you saw on his blog. You really saw that restless curiosity about…well…everything…when you met him in person. It was wonderful for an evening, just to behold it.
So we’ve lost another good person in the blog world this summer and I am heartbroken. I hadn’t heard from Jim in ages and I just assumed he’d lost interest in blogging because that hungry mind of his had wandered elsewhere. I had no idea he was sick. I should have pinged him a time or two this past year and I didn’t, and now I can’t.
…and want to help them to be everything that God intended for them to be when He created them.
Quatre…
This being the case, we have no desire with the following information to try and attack or hurt someone…
Cinq…
…involved in homosexual sex.
Six…
Quite the contrary
Sept…
…our intention is first to try and help to set them free from the sin of homosexuality and the subsequent tragic consequences associated with homosexual sex – this is an act of love.
Huit…
Our society has been attacked by homosexual activists at every quarter, lying to us about the reality of homosexual sex while they are FULLY AWARE of this sin’s implications and dangers – FULLY!
At the nadir of his presidency, George W. Bush is looking for answers. One at a time or in small groups, he summons leading authors, historians, philosophers and theologians to the White House to join him in the search.
Over sodas and sparkling water, he asks his questions: What is the nature of good and evil in the post-Sept. 11 world? What lessons does history have for a president facing the turmoil I’m facing? How will history judge what we’ve done? Why does the rest of the world seem to hate America? Or is it just me they hate?
These are the questions of a president who has endured the most drastic political collapse in a generation. Not generally known for intellectual curiosity, Bush is seeking out those who are, engaging in a philosophical exploration of the currents of history that have swept up his administration. For all the setbacks, he remains unflinching, rarely expressing doubt in his direction, yet trying to understand how he got off course.
Well when you nail your compass needle down, staying on course is pretty much a matter of dumb luck George. And while dumb you are, dumb and lucky you never were. Otherwise your rich father and his cronies wouldn’t have had to save you from from jackass self over and over again.
These sessions, usually held in the Oval Office or the elegant living areas of the executive mansion, are never listed on the president’s public schedule and remain largely unknown even to many on his staff. To some of those invited to talk, Bush seems alone, isolated by events beyond his control, with trusted advisers taking their leave and erstwhile friends turning on him.
"You think about prime ministers and presidents being surrounded by cabinet officials and aides and so forth," said Alistair Horne, a British historian who met with Bush recently. "But at the end of the day, they’re alone. They’re lonely. And that’s what occurred to me as I was at the White House. It must be quite difficult for him to get out and about.
That’ll happen to people who would rather have sycophants then real friends. You’re the golden boy, right up ’till the moment you’re not. Then you’re nobody.
…In which it begins to dawn on our hero that resistance may be futile. Click Here or on the graphic above to go directly to episode ten. Or click Here to go to the main series page.
Coming up: Episode 11 – An Intervention Moment. In which Left Brain and Right Brain try to reason with this Libido character. Probably sometime in August, after my trip out west.
(London) A senior Church of England bishop says floods that have caused widespread damage in the UK are the result of God’s wrath on a permissive society that endorses gay rights.
"We are in serious moral trouble because every type of lifestyle is now regarded as legitimate," the Rt Rev Graham Dow, Bishop of Carlisle, told the Sunday Telegraph.
"In the Bible, institutional power is referred to as ‘the beast’, which sets itself up to control people and their morals. Our government has been playing the role of God in saying that people are free to act as they want," he told the paper, adding that the introduction of recent pro-gay laws undermines marriage.
"The sexual orientation regulations [which give greater rights to gays] are part of a general scene of permissiveness. We are in a situation where we are liable for God’s judgment, which is intended to call us to repentance."
Dow is a leading church conservative.
"Conservative" being a euphemism for "Witch Doctor"…
Yes I am interested in owning an iPhone. But not the first generation ones. I’ll wait. But I’ve been wanting that all in one communication, personal information store, entertainment, wear on the belt or put in your pocket widget for years now. The thing needs to grow a little more memory, and shrink a tad less in cost though. But it will eventually.
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