A Season of Student Victims

It's been an amazing two weeks for campus life and the new definitions of victim-hood.

First, the Rutgers women's basketball team were called 'nappy-headed hos' by Don Imus, talk radio's fragile and unfunny dinosaur. He said something stupid -- actually agreed to a statement made by an on-air colleague -- and paid the price. The coach and the basketball team could have lashed back and said he was a racist old coot -- which he is -- but there was a mantle of victimhood to embrace. Instead of saying Imus's words were pathetic and did him more harm than to themselves, the coach and her team failed to display any of the strength and resiliance that got them to the finals.

Second, the Duke lacrosse team were declared innocent when the charges were dropped from their rape case last week. The happy faces of the accused were filled with relief from the false accusations, but their names are ruined. There are plenty of those who were so sure that the rich white athletes were guilty that I am sure they still believe the charges from the alleged victim, whose story has changed at least three times, are still true. Unlike the Rutgers team, the athletes declared their innocence and didn't play the race card when clearly many wanted to belive the story of a black victim at the hands of several white men.

And finally, a campus saw some true victims. A deranged shooter shot something more powerful than mean words or bogus accusations. Unlike the grinding, week-long Rutgers/Imus trainwreck, there was true physical pain and loss of life. We saw bravery and grace among people who fought back at the shooter or protected the students around them -- a lesson for us all. Mickey Kaus is right when he says that the Imus incident is diminished after the masacre at Virginia Tech. Of course, racially insensitive remarks shouldn't be tolerated and Imus' two-week suspension was just. But unlike the Duke accuser and the shooter in Blacksburgh, Imus apologized several times. Sadly, apologies are not enough in Victimville.

Abstinence classes -- failure or too early to tell?

It's not working and the abstinence critics will be happy to tell you all about it. In a new congressional report, students who took abstinence lasses were just as likely to engage in sex as those students who hadn't taken the course. And those who attended 25 percent of the classes had the same number of sex partners as those who did not attend.

I would hope even the critics of these classes would agree that this is depressing news. Not just the futility of the classes themselves but the stubbornness of today's teens. I went to high school during the days of raunchy teen comedies like Porky's and various slasher flicks when some girls throat was cut when she lost her virginity in a car, but being a teen today has to be head-spinning. Girls Gone Wild, lowcut jeans, rap videos, Internet smut, and celebrities who are more famous for falling out of their dresses than for the possession of any real talent all have a collateral effect. Trust me, I don't want to turn the calendar back to 1952 but my days in 1983 seem almost wholesome.

My daughter is eight and she has a classmates who have boyfriends. What that means in today's third grade, I have no clue but it doesn't bode well for the fifth grade.

Rain, rain, go away

Okay, I have had it. I want sun. I want mild temps. I want the smell of warming Earth. I saw some buds on a few shrubs yesterday but they have probably froze or drowned thanks to today's nor'easter.

Enough.

Garbage can blogging --- Advertisers welcome

We bought an $89 brushed steel garbage can for the kitchen. Yep, nearly ninety bucks for a place to store the dirty diapers, soda cans we are too lazy to recycle, and dead Chinese food. It's very cool -- the lid actually closes and we doubt that Rex will be able to open it for stray scraps. It looks so futuristic that you want to start looking for the USB port.

Now, we have to get a smaller model for Rex's dog food. I'm thinking a $60 unit for kibble. What have I become?

Mergers & Acquisitions -- a review exclusive

You know that you've read a terrific novel if you're searching for a new book to read and nothing excites except the memory of the last book you've just put down. I haven't felt this floaty since I closed The Emperor's Children but Mergers & Acquisitions is the main cause of my current book blues.

And it kills me that M&A is so well done, so smart and funny and with a strong voice -- and the guy who wrote it is barely 26. Ugh, that age! Hemingway and Updike were that old when they wrote their first books. I think it's the same for a bunch of other writers -- Salinger? Joyce? Fitzgerald? -- and this kid has talent. He has a sharp ear for dialogue and a keen eye for detail. I haven't devoured a book this fast in ages.

I loved the scene where the hero is an utter failure at his job but he keeps surviving by the seat of his chinos. His brother is making a small fortune reselling his ritalin and his father joins country clubs like I add on chins. Tommy Quinn is a smart guy who regrets that the only medical school that accepted him is in central America and this realization makes him enter high finance at JS Spencer. That firm is based on JPMorgan where the author, Dana Vachon, worked and barely suceeded. Thank God, he failed because we're all winners with the winning book.

Mergers & Acquisitions. Read it. Hate the author. Hate yourself for not being as talented. Read the book again. Repeat.

Oh, and I love the JS Spencer web site. 'You're going to need a bigger wallet.'

Gun, Apology and the Lash

While we can be grateful that the British sailors and marines were released safe and sound for the most part, one has to admit that Iranian President Amhadinejad is a master of propaganda and taking the lead in a potential crisis. Mickey Kaus is arguing -- counter to conventional wisdom, of course -- that the Iranians blinked when they released the 15 servicemen thanks to the USS Nimitz making its way to the Gulf. That would have meant three US aircraft carriers in the waters, including the supporting heavy cruisers and submarines carrying cruise missiles.

But what happens next? Surely this incident will repeat itself in the coming weeks and months. In fact, as the National Review recommends, the British Navy should continue patrolling Iraqi waters right away but with extra fire power. Next time, perhaps the Iranian Coast Guard won't be so eager to swoop in and kidnap sailors.

What is Dick Cheney thinking now? Imaging what he would have recommended if the detainees had been Americans brings a chill to the spine.

And the fact that we are guilty of torturing detainees ourselves gives us no opportunity to take the moral high ground when others torture our allies' servicemen. We had clearly and sadly forfeited the moral high ground.

Read this passage from the Times and ask if we have any right to be outraged:

"We had a blindfold and plastic cuffs, hands behind our backs, heads against the wall," Royal Marine Tindell said in an interview with the BBC. "Someone, I'm not sure who, someone said, I quote, 'Lads, lads, I think we're going to get executed.'

"After that comment someone was sick, and as far as I was concerned he had just had his throat cut..."

Re-entering the tube

I've become a Web zombie to the point that I stopped watching televsiion. But I've been won back. This time last year, I only watched The Sopranos, Entourage and Curb Your Enthusiasm. Still terrific shows even if The Sopranos is a shadow of itself. Maybe, they should have stopped after Nancy Marchand died.

But I've been pulled back into network television. I am loving NBC again. Thanks to NetFlix, I have been sucked into the US version of The Office. I am also catching back episodes of 30 Rock online. Sometimes the connection is slow and I have to wait for the Interweb to catch up, but it's ben fun. I cannot seem to make the time to watch the episodes as they air, but viewing them when I want is what TV is all about.

Has Alec Baldwin won an Emmy for 30 Rock? He def should.

In passing ...

We lost a neat woman the other day, just a special person. My wife's second cousin Marie O'Neill passed away at the age of 85. Her health had been failing lately and she passed on earlier this month. We couldn't attend the funeral service in Connecticut because of the bad weather. We will make time for a memorial service later on, however.

She was a great lady and I loved her laugh and her smile. She never married and I knew that she taught English in New Canaan, a leafy, well to do suburb in Connecticut. One of her students was Rick Moody, the short tory writer and novelist who wrote The Ice Storm. At the premiere of the movie, he was asked about his influences. Instead of saying the usual suspects like John Cheever or Updike, he mentioned his eighth grade English teacher and how she made an impact on him.

Here is Mari'e obituary. I knew she was a WAV in WWII but not that she was a Lieutenant Commander or that she had taught in Europe. I did know tht she loved to ride around the country to visit family and friends. She hated Republicans with a passion and once wanted to know what the hell a refrigerator magnet of Richard Nixon was doing on my fridge. (It was a gift from a friend -- a close-up of Dick at his sweatiest).

I loved how she once brought her Carolla into a Toyota dealership for an oil change and walked into the showroom. After talking to the salesman, she decided it was time to buy a new car. She had more miles to travel.


Here is her obit. We miss you, Marie.

Marie Helen O'Neill, age 85, passed away Friday, March 9, 2007, at the Villas of St. Therese, in Columbus , Oh. She was born in New Haven , Conn. on July 14, 1921. Marie received her B.A. Degree in English from Albertus Magnus College in 1942, and earned her M.A. Degree in Education from Columbia University in 1955.

She served in the U.S. Navy as a Lt. Commander in the Communications Office of the Eastern Sea Frontier during WWII, which included the mapping of ship movements in the Atlantic during the war. After retiring from active service, she began and enjoyed a long fulfilling career as an elementary school teacher in Europe, and New Canaan, Conn., where she helped to shape the lives of countless children.

Marie's many travels throughout the world helped to enrich her love of nature, and the protection of the environment, which led to long associations with the National Audubon Society, and other Preservation groups. Her other favorite hobbies included attending museums, musical concerts, and other cultural and social events of all kinds. As an avid reader, she was versed in a variety of subjects, and loved to discuss and debate the current issues across the Political landscape. She was also an active volunteer to causes that helped the less fortunate. Marie will always be remembered for her unique sense of humor, and her adventuresome spirit will be greatly missed by her immediate family, and all who knew her and loved her.

Marie was preceded in death by her parents John and Mary O'Neill of New Haven , Conn. , her brother John J. O'Neill, Jr. and her brother-in-law John S. Bird. Marie is survived by her sister, Eileen Bird of Ohio (John); sister-in-law, Jessie O'Neill of Washington , D.C. (John). Marie is also survived by nieces and nephews, Mary Diamond (Bruce), John O'Neill Jr. (Martha), John Bird Jr., David Bird (Jeanette), Barbara Douglas (Brad), Kathy Cox (Michael) and Stephen O'Neill (Karen). She is also survived by great-nieces and nephews, Martha, Jessie and John Diamond, Carleigh, Madeline and John Douglas, Jack and Sam O'Neill, Benjamin O'Neill, Morgan Vickers, David Bird, Michael, Katie, Rachel, Matthew and Sean Cox and Anna Bird. Funeral from SISK BROTHERS FUNERAL HOME, 3105 Whitney Ave., Hamden, Conn., Saturday at 9 a.m. Mass of Christian Burial at 9:30 a.m. in St. Aedan Church, Fountain St., New Haven. Burial will follow in St. Lawrence Cemetery. Visitation will be Saturday from 8:15-9 a.m.
In lieu of flowers, contributions to the National Audubon Society or the Villas at St. Therese, 25 Noe-Bixby Dr., Columbus, Oh. 43213.

The Shame of London vs New York

Talk about your coincidences. Next month's cover story of Waters is about the chance that New York might be losing its financial crown to London. I pitched the story to my reporter Emily and I liked the neat irony that she is a Brit and will be looking at the local/global story as a US reporter.

Then last week New York magazine has a cover story theme issue that just reeks of a huge staff tackling a juicy subject. The same subject you can all read in my magazine next week. It was an entire issue dedicated to NYC and London. Who is the leader in the arts, entertainment, dining, living and global finance? It was very well done and you should def check it out. The magazine was a tad defensive -- hell, it is New York magazine afterall, but they did capture the notion that London is very much on the rise. It is the global city to watch.

I have some mixed thoughts on London. I love the history of the city and it's very neat to see the old architecture and the street names that bring back some novels I haven't read since college. It certainly has a pulse and there is a ton of money floating around there. The people are generally nice and seemed not interested in blaming me for the American-made woes in the world. But then again, they have no problem describing how much they detest President Bush. Not disagree with his policies but truly loathe the man. Oh, and Israel isn't popular either.

But what is it about London that I don't like? It's simple: it has a thuggish air about it. I feel like I could get jumped by a group of drunken teenage girls. I feel like a soccer hooligan can throw a drink in my face and steal my cell phone. The drinking is outrageous over there and I attended a SUNY school not far from the Canadian border.

A friend has relocated to London with her banker husband and two sons. She is adjusting well but she is having trouble matching the prim accents and smart clothes with the loutish behavior. She has seen drunks screaming at one another in broad daylight, mothers behaving badly with their children and her mind reels at the conversations around security systems and the rash of break-ins. I can relate - on my last trip to London someone was apparently stabbed outside the hotel where I was staying. When I checked out, a maid was furiously scrubbing the sidewalk.

So, what is causing this bad behavior? The excessive drinking is a cue and key ingrediant, to be sure. But maybe it's because the UK doesn't have a shaming culture the way the US does. If you misbehave here, scolds on the right and the left will gladly tell you where you screwed up and how you are a bad person. Having sex outside of marriage? The Christian Conservatives will tell you all about hell and loose morals. Have uncharitable thoughts about gays or minorities? The PC patrol on the left will tell you you are intolerant and need to change your thinking.

I don't think this exists in the UK. Do they have evangelicals, pentecostals and fundamentalists keeping one and all in God's line? Do they have liberal academics and columnists telling us that some thoughts are racist, sexist and homophobic and will not be tolerated? I don't think that exists in England.

Add in a lack of church attendence, and it's a wonder any laws are followed.

In through the window

What a week. Last Saturday, there was 10 inches of ice-covered snow outside with two foot drifts at the front and back doors. I couldn't let the dog out to do his business. I also couldn't get out to start the shovelling. Wunnerful. So, being the Man of Action that everyone secretly knows me to be, I donned my shovelling gear and opened the window of the TV room. I handed my wife the shovel, parted the curtains and slipped out into the white frontier. And then sank up to my knees in snow.

Yup, I had to exit through the window.

Fast forward: The neighbors joined us to help clear the driveway we all share. Once we realized that the driveway was more icy snow than powder, I suggested that one of the teens hail any truck with a plow. After one stopped and agreed to clear our driveway, I ran to the house for cash. We hadn't gone to an ATM in ages but we scrounged togther 38 bucks. The guy in the truck asked for only $10 or $15 so I gave him the top amount and asked for his phone number. His wife/girlfriend was happy to oblige. You could tell that the mild winter had taken a hit on their personal economy and they were grateful for this late snowfall. I was happy not to break my back chipping the hard stuff and hauling it over the fence.

I saw The Departed, the film that won Martin Scorsese his Oscar for Goodfellas and Taxi Driver. Not a great film but a terrific cat and mouse flick. I had a ball and I actually liked watching two actors I have never thought much about -- Leonardo DiCaprio and Matt Damon. I'd like to rent this again from NetFlix just to count how many people get shot in the head. I think it's at least six or eight but it might be more.

I am reading A Coffin For Dimitrios, a thriller by Eric Ambler, the master of this genre. (Man, how I hate that word). You can see why Alan Furst adores his writing and uses him as a guide every single time he writes a WWII thriller of his own. Definitely check it out.

Some picture blogging -- on a mild Daylight Sunday

A boy and his orange paint.


The hands tell the tale.


Some flowers outsidde in the backyard.


Two angels and a green pillow.


An angel outdoors.

Thomas The Bitch Engine

The boys are watching Toy Story 2 and basking in the Buzz Lightyear introductory scene. It's a welcome relief from the Thomas the Tank Engine DVDs they have been devouring for more than a year. An actual story -- where things happen. Characters are revealed and developed. The surfaces have actual textures. In the endless Thomas videos, the different trains and engines moan and bitch at one another in their simpering British accents.

It's the video equivalent of working in an office of women.

Oh, dear. Was that my outside voice?

Chief comments

A few days ago I posted that when I saw the F-105 Thunderchief at the New England Air Museum, I was amazed that the thing was so huge. I still am -- it's ginormous for a fighter. I saw an F-14 Tomcat inside the same wing of the museum and I would have been certain that the Tomcat would be larger than the Thunderchief. I also remarked that the USAF probably couldn't wait to get rid of this pig. I remember one documentary that said the Thunderchief needed plenty of maintenance after each flight. I got the impression that the F-4 Phantom was therefore more reliable as a fighter bomber. Besides, the Navy and Marine Corp clearly didn't see it as a viable option or they would have asked for versions of their own, much like the Phantom and one of my fave jets, the A-7 Corsair.

I received an email from USAF pilot who flew several missions in the 'chief. He was insulted that I quoted my son by saying 'oink oink' about the jet he flew and clearly loved. No offense meant, sir. It is a damned impressive jet and I remain baffled that it was really that huge.

It does look like it would be fun to fly one, though. That's for sure.

Books n flicks

My first week as just Special Projects Editor is over and so far, so good. It is an almost out of body experience to watch someone else do my job of the past three and a half years. Wow, it really is a full-time job, I said as I did the second job I have been doing at the time, namely the special projects.

We had a wicked downpour on Thursday night/Friday morning and regina and I woke to find a small flood in the basement. Let's just say we had some puddles and a small hole with water streaming out. Not a trickle -- actual force and volume, like you turned on the faucet half-way. We bailed and laid out towels and fired up the wet-dry vac. The filter was so old it couldn't handle the force of the water being sucked in so we went to a pair of Home Depots for a new filter. Once afixed, the sucking commenced.

Watched more of the second Season of The Office (US). It's very well done and is getting more wonderful with each episode. They soften Pam's bofriend from a thuggish lout to sweet if thoughtless loser. Dwight Shrute is a wonder and the actor Rainn Wilson was born tomplay this overbearing psycho who will ruin everyone's life once he is promoted to any position of power.

I am reading Low Life, a survey of old New York from the 1840s until the 1930s. NYC was, in short, a magnicently dirty and dangerous place to live. This isn't your father's Henry James novel. In fact, I bought this book of of Amazon with Edith Wharton's House of Mirth. Not a gilded age in the pages of Low Life.

The other morning, I cashed in some pounds at Grand Central and I laid the book on the counter. The guy behind the counter looked at the cover and said, "Low Life, eh? Is it about George Bush?"

Everyone's a critic.

Welcome to Stringfield

After owning the minivan for less than a week, Regina and I packed the kids up and headed north to Springfield, Mass., the home of Regina's youngest nephew. He attends the New England College of Beer where he studies enginering and it was time to visit the lad and his girlfriend, the eternally-patient Theresa. We had a ball. We stayed at a Residence Inn which came with two bedrooms, a full kitchen and a pool down at the lobby. Matthew was in his glory.

We didn't do much, but play tourists. Springfield is a friendly if faded town with four nice, small museums, some shopping centers and it's the home of the Smith & Wesson shooting range. After a day at the museums -- where we saw some mangy stuffed animals and some sketches of Dr Seuss -- John, Ryan and I went to the S&W shooting range. There you can fire any weapon that the gun company manufactures. I was looking forward to shoting a 9mm, a .38 snub-nose hammerless pistol and a 1911 .45 remake. But it wasn't meant to be -- the range was hosting the final days of a shoot off and we couldn't shoot until 6PM that night.

But here is the best part: The shoot off was at the final moments so the target was pretty special. It was a piece of string suspended from the ceiling at about 20 yards. A piece of string.

Later, we went to the New England Air Museum. I was expecting a few old WWII planes and a jeep but we were surprised by a bevy of Vietnam era fighter jets, a WWII B-29 bomber, a retired F-14 Tomcat, a few huge helicopters and one old civilian airliner that looks like a Rolls Royce with wings. I was floored by the F-105 Thunderchief, which flew over the fields of Vietnam and I had always assumed that it was the size of, say, an F-16 Falcon or an F-4 Phantom. Nuh-uh. The Thunderchief is HUGE, about the size of a commuter jet that flies from New York to Boston. It was incredible to think that this was seen as a viable and nimble fighter-bomber. No wonder the Air Force couldn't wait to get rid of this pig. In the words of Tim -- oink oink.

Meet The Scarlet Avenger

This is the last day of our seven year-old beloved blue bomber. We rode our Toyota Sienna to Virginia Beach, Washington DC, North Carolina, South Carolina, Connecticut, Masachusetts, Cornell University and the Palisades Mall more times than we can count. It was clearly time for a new AlbinusMobile.



Behold ... The Scarlet Avenger. It's a new Toyota Sienna with plenty of neat features and it doesn't break the bank. It has such a strong new car smell that we thought something was burning when we turned on the heat. It handles great and is even quieter than the old minivan. Nora loves the car and Matthew, who isn't exactly Mr. New Experiences, settled right in. Tim was pleased, too.

This is a cruddy picture but we took it after sundown while the kids were snow-tubing in the back yard. The ice coveed snow is perfect for the snowtubes Santa gave the kids at Christmas. Even if Dad punctured one while driving over some sticks and twigs. Cowabunga!

Bandbox -- Reports from the 1920s magazine wars

I loved Thomas Mallon's Bandbox, his comic novel about rival magazines trying t define culture and high living during the Roaring Twenties. Mallon does the impossible: he makes a distant age immediate and recognizable while using ancent pop culture that I learned from old Bugs Bunny cartoons. He also spins his yarn with a cast of dozens or rather dozen. Most novels ahev five speaking characters or so -- Bandbox has at least 12 fleshed characters and supporting players. It was a tad tough following them but after a while it was easier going.

Bandbox is the name of the leading if strugling men's high style magazine that is underseige by rival Cutaway. The editor of Bandbox, Joe Harris has a typical magazine editor's plight: tight deadlines, a crazy, disgruntled staff, and owners fighting for more ads. He has to keep the magazine pure and yet pliant enough to make money in an age when money seems to be raining from heaven. Throw in gangsters, spies from rival mags, a botched fiction contest, and a reader kidnapping -- and you have a great tale.

With the great suits, the romance that shows our grandparents weren't the Puritans we thought they were, and the wonderful settings -- it's a shame Robert Altman couldn't have taken a stab at theis book. He can handle large casts and snappy dialogue. Just check out his respected if still under-rated Gosford Park.

With Altman dead, the movie version of Bandbox can only fall to one man. Altman's protege and filmmaker in his own right: Alan Rudolf. He did great work on The Secret Lives of Dentists and Trouble in Mind, he can definitely do this. What is he up to these days? Must check imdb.

Definitely check out Bandbox.

Surging ahead, via the NYTimes?

The NY Times reports that Iraqi President Maliki told President Bush that the initial push in Baghdad has been a success. Granted, Maliki may not be the most truthful player in the area, but it's hard to see if under-playing the truth would help him in his country. In fact, he was against the surge and a failure would help him hasten the exit of American troops. How, I am not so sure. Does he want chaos?

The Times reports:

The two spoke via video link and, according the statement, Mr. Maliki said, “The security plan has been a dazzling success during its first days.”

Across Baghdad, there were signs of the heightened troop presence, as cars were searched at new checkpoints and raids resulted in the arrest of at least 35 people, according to Iraqi officials.

I had my doubts about the surge because 21,500 additional troops didn't sound like very much in a region that may need an extra 100,000 troops. Where they would come from, I have no clue.

The Democrats in the House of Representatives have voted against the surge with 17 Republicans voting with them against the surge. Yet, many of the anti-surgers inside and outside of Congress want the US to restore order in wartorn Darfur. Perhaps the poor people there are more deserving of US intervention because they don't suffer while sitting atop a ton of oil. More purity there.

Of course, stopping the strife is important in Darfur, but restoring some semblance of order in Iraq is a greater priority for the region, The US and the rest of the World. Perhaps France and germany can send troops to wartorn Darfur. Oh, right...

Conservatives of different stripes

It's the calendar, people. I haven't read Dinesh D'Souza's The Enemy at Home, the conservative's argument that the American Left was partly responsible for the attacks on 9/11 and the general animosity from radical Muslims across the globe. I have the reviews, though -- mostly negative and many of them from the Right. Even a few National Review columnists have come out and said that this book is a bit much. Good for them.

One thought does come up when you read the first fiery chapter on the author's web site. He claims that although he would rather go to a baseball game with Michael Moore than a radical Muslim cleric, he probably has more in common with the radical imam. What bunk. The radical Muslim wing that attacked us five years ago and that we drove out of Afghanistan and loathes us on the web today are not cultural conservatives like D'Souza. They may both hate bikinis, Britney Spears and MTV, but there is a big diffeences. Cultural conservatives like D'Souza want to turn the calendar back to 1950. Bin Laden and his crew want the calendar back to 950.

One must admit that a thousand years will make a difference in the way the two groups interact.

This almost echoes a thought I had in the days after 9/11 when American Talib John Walker Lindh was captured at al Al Queda training camp. Most conservative pundits claimed that Lindh was a product of his Marin County upbringing. Actually, he was resonding to his parents' divorce and the fact that his father reportedly left his wife for another man. The poor sap -- a confused teenager who drifted from hip hop to radical Islam -- clearly wanted a 1950s America where mother and father build a home to raise a family. Unfortunately, with that dream shattered, Lindh turned to a radicalism that offered destructive absolutes.

And those came from an even more fare away time than the time of Father Knows Best.

The Week In Review - Sex and Death Edition

Let's see: a case of food poisoning, one day home with the kids because of school district meetings, a farewell drink for a co-worker, my daughter's first concert, my autistic son locks himself in the bathroom, I push up the window while on a ladder and help my daughter throught the window, freezing cold temps, gliding my way through a wonderfully funny novel that I don't want to end, added a string to my acoustic guitar after a few months of putting it off, watched a few episodes of The Office (US) and it'snot even Saturday night.

This week's news: Anna Nicle Smith collapsed and died in a Hard Rock Hotel in Florida. I guess we'd be lying if we said this came as a surprise, and I almost admire that the choice of hotel showed her glittery leanings. It was fascinating to watch the news try to cover the story and to make this a serious story. You could almost hear the relief in the producer's heads as they cut to footage of her body being brought to the hospital and interviewed her close friends. Finally-- some ratings, the newsies were telling themselves. Iraq is over as a compelling story even as the war and the deathtoll grinds on. The coverage of the presidential race is premature and sadly uninspiring except for Barak Obama. Do Rudy and Hillary think America wants them as president?

But The death of ANS has sex, drugs, fame, death, some mystery and just sheer car-wreck horror. The NY Post slammed Rosie O'Donell for making comments about ANS and her drugged curent state on the morning that she died. The Post slammed her for her bad timing. I would say ROD is pitch perfect. She is now the crazy truth telling aunt America needs. I am no fan but between her and Donald Trump, I'll take the no-hit lesbian anyday. Her mission is to speak her mind and for all of her dust-ups, I thought she made some sense.

Quite a week.

More chins than a -- do I have to finish this sentence

Behold the ravages of time!

Taken by Amy Fletcher...

A whole new you

Look, a new Blogger design. Still can't decide if I like it. The font is a bit blotchy for my taste. Maybe it will grow on me.

Gotta find a pic I like that doesn't give me three chins. (Like that's going to happen!)

The day before that day

Last night while eating chicken quesedillas and enjoying a margarita, I took control of the remote and freed the TV from another round of cartoons. I landed on the Sundance Channel (I think) and found a documentary on They Might Be Giants, the eccentric pop duo who came to the scene in the mid-80s.

It was pretty charming, and for a bunch of guys who were on the cutting edge of college radio, they seemed smart without being pretenisous. Even their wordy, opaque lyrics and stacatto rhythms seemed friendly and warm and even inviting although their songs usually came at you at a breakneck speed. I haven't heard Anna Ng or Birdcage In Your Heart in two decades and they still sound fresh.

In the doc, they came across as really normal guys, granted that they record phone greetings for extra dough. One John, the accordian player, is a quiet and thoughtful father of an adorable little boy while the other John, the guitar player, seems to be the kind of boss everyone would want to work for.

One thing stuck out during the documentary. The band was about to launch a new album and some scenes showed their appearances they taped for The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and Late Night with Conan O'Brien. The date was September 10, 2001. Jesus, it was so odd to see that time on a five year-old tape. It was September but people were still in a summer frame of mind: the weather was mild and th people in all of the clips just seemed lighter. They appeared to be floating with not a care in the world. Silly pop songs seemed like the perfect thing to record, listen to and promote. You get no sense that a horrific act was about to happen 15 hours later that would change the world. (Yes, I am one of those people who have a 9/10 and 9/12 mindset).

It reminds me of that day, the days before the attacks. I remember the MTV Music Video awards, which seemed over the top and pointless. I remember Jack Black promoting the new Tenacious D record -- it might have been their first and it felt like they were going to just explode. Bob Dylan had just released Time Out of Mind, or was it his follow-up, Love and Theft? I am too tired to check.

We were obsessed with Britney (was she growing up too fast), Jennifer Lopez (will Hollywood destroy her music career), Gary Condit (did he kill that poor intern?), and Bush's stem cell speech from his beloved -- and isolating -- ranch in Crawford, Texas. It seems so long ago, when the day finally arrived and the skies were clear but they would soon be overcast for a very long time.

Old Man, look at my life

I turned 42 last week. It's not a momentous age but one of those subtle signposts on the way to 50. Sweet Jesus, fifty! For some reason I think 45 might be one of those birthdays you notice and do a mild double-take. Halfway to 90. I don't think anyone in my family has made it to that age and I guess I'll have to wait to find out.

Waters hired a new editor. I came up wih the idea for the new role I am taking, special prpjects editor, but I was a bit sad at the news. I am no longer the editor of a magazine I love and I am glad that the company has finally realized that they need to add to the staff in order to grow the damned magazine. It's been a true burnout year and I have some decisions to make. The economy is good and there are jobs out there. Also, have I written every financial IT story I ever want to write? Do I even care about this topic?

It's time to get cracking. Must write a novel and get it published. Must start exercising. Get creative with MacBok and parts of my brain that are killed by my job. More fresh air. More time with kids. Less scotch.

Do I have the guts for this change? That, my friend, is the question of the day.

A Big Tim Week

The two year-old is now speaking more than the six year-old. Timmy is chatting away these days and is actually conversing. And it all happened this week, it seems. Tim walks around the house, picks up boks and toys and asks, "What is this?" Yesterday he said "Give me cracker." Nice.

Matthew is making nice progress and we see more and more from him each week. Matthew will still do anything not to speak one word so that he may get what he wants. Getting him to say "cookie, please" and "I want snack/milk/movie" is an uphill battle with a stubborn boy who has figured out his world and where he fits inside it. He is still a wonder to watch. The autistic mind is something to behold. Matthew gets things and yet in other ways it's almost as if he is refusing to engage with the world. It's not a mean-spirited refusal -- his brain simply works a touch differently than yours and mine.

Nora is having a good year and is coming into her own. She is doing nicely with her math and her script is better than her plain block letters. Unlike last year, she has a good teacher and we are seing results for the chattiest and sweetest thing in our lives. Go, Nora!

The Barak Bandwagon

Borak Obama has hinted rather strongly that he will run in 2008 and the press have their first true superstar for the coming election. Hillary Clinton, Rudy Guiliani and John McCain are old hands these days and the media clearly wants to write about someone new, refreshing, (clearly) inspirational and more than a little unknown.

For all of his strengths, Obama has a damned light resume. The media sniffed at then-Gov. George W. Bush's light record but he looks like Winston Churchill next to Obama. The Illinois Congressman couldn't win his congressional seat and he won his senate seat thanks to an 'independent ' investigation into his opponent's bitter divorce. Fast forward and he found himself running against Alan Keyes. Come on, people.

But Obama, despite the funny name and the feather-lite resume, is damned attractive. He represents hope and unlike Bill Clinton, his sunny optimism doesn't have the very real and depressing taint of scumbagginess. Clinton was a rogue, and even if Obama has a mild bimbo problem, it won't be as destructuve as the days of Bubba.

Hillary, stay in the Senate. Trust me.

Torture, cinema style

If you need one hour and 47 minutes of sheer, unrelenting torture, then by all means move The Break-Up to the top of your Netflix queue. It is utter torture, a purely unpleasant cinematic experience with two of the most likeable stars from TV and films wasted in a bickering and senseless feud. Who wouldn't want to see the celluloid dating antics of Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn, but for some reason, the filmmakers pit the duo against each other after 10 minutes into the film. We watch them break up and maintain a seething time-out as the couple sell their stellar Chicago condo. For such a large and roomy dwelling, this is a spectacularly clammy and claustrophobic experience.

Aniston looks terrific if Vaughn looks like he might need an intervention from his fratboy days as a binge-drinker and party regular. Some weeks at a spa might be good for the bloated character actor.

I did like one aspect of the movie: Aniston walks naked past Vaughn who was deep in the throes of a video game. Here is a king dork -- seen shouting smack at a 12 year-old over John Madden Football - who witnesses what he is stubbornly allowing to slip through his fingers. She glides back to her room -- no body double -- and we hope onto a better movie career.

Just enough to lose

Is it me or does 21,500 additional troops in Iraq sound like there will be any impact? Four or five brigades sounds impressive to a non-military guy like me but will those numbers mean anything to the insurgents? The proposal not only feels like the last ditch effort for the US's plan in Iraq, it feels like just enough to lose. Those are Mickey Kaus' formulation and he makes sense. Also, do any hard core Neocon truly believe that 21K soliders and Marines will make a dent in the chaos of Iraq?

John Derbyshire of National Review also thinks that with the latest speech, Syria and Iran have absolutely nothing to fear from us at all. Why are we now only securing the Iran and Syria border after a bloody three-year war. And that makes perfect and depressing sense.

Want more insight in how we got here? Check out Fiasco by Thomas Ricks. It seems like every bad decision we could made was pursued vigorously by the present administration. Their incompetence was truly stellar and prescient.

The Urge to Surge

President Bush is expected to propose a surge of US troops for the next 18 months in Iraq. The only question is the number of troops the President is finally willing to bring to the failed state. Will it be 20,000 troops, as most media reports hint at, or will it be the 100,000 troops that some extreme Neocons and anti-war critics have been saying? Tomorrow night will be a true numbers game.

So, if it is 20K or 100K, the question remains: will it work? Frankly, I have my doubts.

Iraq seems to be a hopeless cesspool and I doubt more bodies from the Army and Marines will make a dent in the ciivil war and insurgency. Who exactly are we supposed to surge against? The men who walk through the streets of Iraq and wave at our soldiers, and then at night they don masks and plant roadside bombs. How can 20K new troops make sense of this utter and confounding state of nonsense?

And there is one more question. Where do these troops come from? Our Army and Marine force are stretch thin and one must wonder where the Pentagon is hiding these troops. And one ultimate question remains: who do we shoot? Where do we point our rifiles? I doubt we will even find targets. But that's just me.

Domino, in real time

It's the first day of the new year, the kids are inside after we took a walk around he pond across the street, I've poured a drink and fired up HBO On Demand. I am now live-blogging Tony Scott's Domino, the Kira Knightly bounty hunter pic. Ron Rosenbaum of the NY Observer loved this pic even though it hails from the brutalism school of cinema.

hey, I think I coined this term when I reviewd Man on Fire, Tony Scott's revenge epic starring denzel Washington. More on that later.

We're 10 minutes in and we see a bloody Kira Knightly holding a shotgun that is taller than she is and weighs just as much.

The edits are quick, the lighting is sickly flourescent, and the pacing feels like a caffeine jag. Kira looks sexy as hell and gives good jaw. She is paying the real-life bounty hunter who was the daughter of a famous British actor. Laurence Harvey? Wow, that's Jacqueline Bisset as her mother. Man, she was meant to be in movirs. Where has she been?

More later

On Saddam

Some thoughts on Saddam Hussein's execution and comments from various bloggers.

When I saw the news last night, I wondered who would show the video first, Al Jazeera or YouTube. Also, would YouTube show the clip or would it pass in order not to leave a bad taste in people's mouths. You can see people die in various war clips so why not the execution of a dictator? I saw one clip of a group of people huddled around a man lying on the ground. I thought he had had a heart attack until he exploded and sent body parts flying.

The reliable if wonky Josh Marshall asked this question:

What do you figure this farce will look like 10, 30 or 50 years down the road? A signal of American power or weakness?

Well, it all depends, Josh. If, lets say if, Iraq is a functioning democracy, then these last three bloody years will be forgotten in 50 years. If there is a truly Mulsim country with a functioning democracy and economy, then the current view of Bush-Cheney-Rumsfeld will be completely different than it it is now. Time will tell.

Marshall's compatriot David Kurtz noted that the executioners look like the terrorist goons from the Nick Berg beheading video. That was truly weird. Why not make it a more military affair with uniforms? Of course, anyone identified with Saddam's final moments will be a target but it does give a snuff film feel to the whole proceedings.

If you're in the mood for some disconnect frisson, go to the New York Times obituary of the dictator. For a newspaper that called the pending execution wrong, the obit is sober and clear-eyed and--yes--almost saber-rattling. If it had appeared in the National Review, no one would have blinked. Good for the Times to remember the brutality of this man.

Here are the first two graffs:

The hanging of Saddam Hussein ended the life of one of the most brutal tyrants in recent history and negated the fiction that he himself maintained even as the gallows loomed — that he remained president of Iraq despite being toppled by the United States military and that his power and his palaces would be restored to him in time.

The despot, known as Saddam, had oppressed Iraq for more than 30 years, unleashing devastating regional wars and reducing his once promising, oil-rich nation to a claustrophobic police state.

The Times should require Maureen Dowd, Paul Krugman and Frank Rich to read this obit everyday when their Bush-bashing columns are due.

Let's play politics. Does this help Bush's numbers, as some must be wondering? No. If there is small spike it will be short-lived. Saddam is gone, a chapter is closed but Iraq roils and rages due to sectarian violence. Will a surge of troops work? No one knows, but the despots around the region are certain that one of their own has died with no small part of US involvement. If this gives them pause, then much has been accomplished.

Aboard the yellow bus

One sign you've seen a good movie is how long it lingers in your mind after the DVD player is turned off. Regina and I saw Little Miss Sunshine and loved it. The performances were all terrific and the whole cast made it seem like they were a real family. Steve Carrell is wonderful as the Proust scholar who is recovering from a suicide attempt and Alan Arkin is a hoot as a grandfather who is thrown out of his nursing home for snorting heroin. I especially liked Toni Collette and Greg Kinnear as the parents of the little girl who wants to be in a beauty pageant in California.

Kinnear and Collette are desperately trying to keep their shit together and I can definitely relate. In fact, this was one reason I loved Edie Falco in the most recent episodes of The Sopranos. Her husband has been shot by his uncle and she doesn't know how she can cope. If she doesn't get an Emmy, there should be hearings.

Back to Little Miss Sunshine. I loved the small moments. Steve Carrell running like a true Proust scholar -- his strides are truly academic. The little girl Olive preparing her reaction when she wins her pageant. Alan Arkin's salty advice on love to his grandson, who has taken a vow of silence until he joins the Air Force Academy. The music is terrific and I've ordered the soundtrack from Amazon. Our neighbor has our Netflix copy and she told Regina she loved it and cannot wait to see it with her mother. No greater praise

A thousand watt smile

Turn it down a notch, Nora!

This is your eight-year old on acid

Or playing with the photobooth camera on the new MacBook. She is one happy snowflake. Watch out, Dakota Fanning!

The Gadget Guy

Merry Christmas! The family had a wonderful morning and a nice slow day although Tim's newest word to his vocabulary -- MINE!!! -- was overused everytime his brother Matthew grabbed a toy or new keychain. The little one is learning to stand his ground, which is nice. That's him up there with me.

Santa brought Nora a new iPod Nano. Everyone thinks we're insane for giving an eight-year old an MP3 player but this is a test of her responsibility. If she can tke care of this, then she has cross a threshold. If she leaves it around for the boys or the dog to destroy, then we'll take it from her for a week. This is why we are loading some Beatles, Eric Clapton, and Green Day along with her Disney girl singer CDs. Besides, we added the iPod car kit -- a Frankenstein tape adapter that lets the iPod play inside your car's audio system. We'll be rocking down to LI tomorrow for Grandma and Grandpa Fest 06 in style.

I am truly loving the whole Apple MacBook and iPod toys this holiday. Everything works simply and simply works. It's a joy. My nephews gave me a Sony digital video camera and I cannot wait to shoot some fotage and edit it on my Mac. Add some music, some fades and special effects ... maybe I can get my job to give me a four month sabbatical so I can play with my new toy. What say?

Matthew took off his clothes in the kitchen just now. Not a new occurence but he clearly had something in mind. He was holding the box of the new snow tubes that we received from Aunt Maureen and The Boys. On one side was a pic of a person tubing down a snowy hill. The other side had a pic of a boy lounging in the tube in a swimming pool in the summer sun.

Hang tight, Matthew. Summer will be here soon enough. In fact the shortest day of the year was just last Friday or Saturday.

Duke debacle

The DA leading the investigation of the Duke Lacrosse Team rape case has dropped the rape charges against the accused players. Some charges remain but they look as weak as the more serious charge of sexual assault.

Clearly, DA Nifong has to be investigated and charged with malfeasance. While they are at it, the lawyers for the university had best prepare a settlement package for the accused players. I am no fan of over-priveleged jocks but they were clearly railroaded over a number of issues: race, privelege, jock vs brains, etc. The attorneys for the innocent players are going to be mighty busy counting their money, arranging interviews on The Today Show and clearing their names.

When good appliances die

It's inevitable, like the tides. Appliances in the home and other big ticket items all go belly up within weeks of one another. Last month, our gas stove died. It's six years old and yet the cost to repair the thing would be around $300. So, the new stove was installed this week.

What else? Well, the Sienna stopped producing any power and the service engine light came on. Needs a new tune-up and some cylinders. Six hundred bucks.

The washing machine has stopped agitating. It's at least 15 years old and probably not worth repairing. Do we hear five hundred?

There's a sustained leak in the main floor tub. I can only hope this is going to cost less than a new TV.

Thank goodness that an old Home Office Computing colleague has sent some extra work my way. I evaluated a pair of web sites for a firm who might hire his company to update their online content. Woo hoo, dead appliances will rise again.

Superman Returns

A day off from work before the holidays begin, a dog at my feet, a quiet house and wifi on my MacBook even if I don't know where the signal is exactly coming from. Could it be my new modem that the cable company installed a few months ago? The new MacBook seems to have a don't ask, don't tell policy with the source of its Internet connection.

I'm watching Superman Returns and am loving it. The director blessedly quotes from Superman and Superman II and the score by John Williams. They didn't finish the "Truth, justice and the American way" line and I wonder why they didn;t have Clark Kent finish the little mission statement. Too patriotic in an anti-American world? The producers probably figured audiences outside the US might not cotton to the idea. Right now, Lois is telling Superman that the world doesn't need a savior. Oh, really?

They're doing the Lois and Superman fly over Metropolis scene. The special effects are so smooth that even the obvious blue screen effects are seamless. His flying has a lighter touch and the CGI on his flowing cape is a wonder. Can't wait to see the rest.

The Guilty Neocon

I must now come clean and confess that the war in Iraq, in clear-eyed retrospect, was an utter disaster and we should not have gone in and deposed Saddam Hussein.

Of course, I am glad that this brutal dictator will soon swing by the hangman's noose, but the situtation on the ground is far from perfect or even acceptable. We have failed the Iraqi people for the second time. We did not support the Kurds in the days and weeks after the first Gulf War and we have yet to establish order more than three years after the liberation of Iraq in the new millenium.

Three years ago, I fully believed the Neocon line that people want to live in freedom, that the Middle East needed a full-bodied democracy (Israel and Turkey excepted for obvious reasons) and that Saddam had weapons of mass destruction. I was duped.

Do I blame Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld? No, not particularly. They clearly had their world view and stuck to it. They either created the intelligence from whole cloth or ordered it to be delivered in such a format to adhere to their world view. I do blame Colin Powell, however. Powell knew when he addressed the United Nations, a corrupt and anti-US body --but still the standard-bearer for liberals and do-gooders everywhere.

Imagine if Powell had threateaned to resign if this report were published. Imagine if he told the President that he would not sell this shabby bill of goods to the general assembly of the UN? Imagine if he resigned and gave interviews to the fawning media for a month straight.

I doubt he would have stopped the war but he might have added a spine to the Democrats and the anti-war side of the Senate and House of Reps. Powell blew his shot.

Why? Was it the old soldier's loyalty? Was it the sweep of events and the accelerated news cycle? Did his old boss -- W's father -- get to him and say 'Proptect my boy?" Sadly, we won't know. Instead, we are stuck in a quagmire with no solution in sight. Would I want my son or daughter in Iraq, standing at a machine gun turrett on an unprotected Humvee in Baghdad? No, I would not. Put me up there.

Afterall I supported the damned farce and I should be the one to go. And hey, now that the Army has raised the enlistment age to 42, what is my excuse?

None whatsoever.

One Small Step for Mac

Okay, I have this glorious MacBook for less than a week, and I have been hiding it from the kids. Call me anal, but I do not want them to play with it. Sue me. So, I bring it out of the sock drawer where I keep it and I place it onto the bed. I turn away and Matthew steps onto the bed and walks across the mattress. He walked towards the laptop and places a foot on the white beauty and steps -- STEPS -- on the laptop and over it.

He walked on my new laptop, people!

I walk over -- okay, I do a fast walk/slow run -- to check my laptop. I open the lid, hit the Power button and notice in one second that there isn't a lightening strike line crack down the middle of the screen.

The MacBook is fine. Works well and just needs an owner who doesn't allow his son to use a new laptop as a doormat. Sorry, Matthew. This one is my fault, buddy.

The Lay of My Land

Quick Book Report: I am a third of the way through The Lay of the Land, Richard Ford's Frank Bascombe trilogy. It's a fine series of books and it deserves a place on the same shelf as John Updike's Rabbit novels. The sentences are longer in this installment ans yet the voice is friendly and so calm. Frank's second wife has left him for her first husband whom all thought was dead; he has two adult children; an ex-wife who is checking in with him and his health is at odds with his optimism. Or it might be the source of it. He has prostate cancer and he realizes that in his mid-fifties, he is in what he calls his premanent period.

I should continue on this book but I also bought A Conspiracy of Paper, a historical novel about intrigue at the London Stock Exchange in the 1800s. I read most of the author;'s other stock exchange and funy clothes novel, The Coffee Trader. It was good but it was due back at the library. I'll be returning to it.

Quick Gadget Report: I am typing this on my new Apple MacBook. I am in love but I think Nora may love it more. She wants to make movies, burn DVDs and load music on a pink iPod. She has asked Santa for it and I know for a fact that he will deliver. I have yet to plug in my Dell Jukebox, but my new Mac might die of laughter. I think there might be an iPod Nano in my future too.

Quick Blog Report: Kevin Drum had a good line about James Baker's Iraq Situation Group report. Has any document disappeared into irrelevancy so quickly? The retired SecDef Donald Rumsfeld says he hasn't read it but for the summary and the President clearly won't read it. Frankly, I doubt if even his father, a man who he adores, could talk him out of his position on Iraq.

Andrew Sullivan had a smart and frightening throwaway line, an aside on his blog. Perhaps we should leave and let the Middle East have the war that it so desperately wants. Could it comes to that? Clearly, oil plays a factor in our presence there though one must admit that we could have occupied the country without building a dictatorship and call it Shell Oil-stan. Who could stop us? Would we care about this irrational region if there were no oil is the question. The West would throw up its hands and allow the players to kill themselves much like what happens in Africa.

No Cure Afterall?

Feeling under the weather, I found myself doing something I never, ever do. I watched Larry King Live for more than five minutes. The guest was Dr. James Dobson, the ultra-conservative founder of Foundation of the Family.

King mentioned the disgraced minister Ted Haggard who was forced to step down after his drug-fueled rompings with a gay escort became news before the election. Dobson, a true man of God, says he didn't have the time to minister to Haggard as he returns to the fold. He admitted the process, which also includes curing Haggard of his desires, could take years.

The good doctor is just too busy.

Or perhaps he is too upset by the timing of Haggard's news or he knows that deep down these curing sessions almost never, ever work. As Josh Marshall points out, wouldn't a Haggard cure be a great endorsement for the post-gay crowd?

Some friend.

A Landwhat?!

Waters did its first ever German-language edition. As Europe becomes a true financial powerhouse -- too many regs in New York so launch that IPO in London, baby! -- Waters needed to expand its scope. Makes sense. As a NY boy, I tend to focus on Wall Street stories and my British-born publisher wants our magazine to be truly global. (How we can do this with three editors in NY and London is another matter).

So, we hire writers, one in Germany, and we create an issue. We hire a translation bureau and hire a proof reader who is skilled in the language. So far, so Teutonic.

Anyway, due to an editing and art direction (apparently) error, we have a serious typo on our cover. The cover!

Instead of saying, in German, Deutsche Boerse: A New Landscape, it seems that we dropped off the letter T in the last word.

It reads: Deutsche Boerse: A New Land Sheep.

The Nov-Dec Book Dilemma

Okay, I've finished a great novel -- The Emporer's Children by Claire Massud -- and I am still looking for another great one. I picked up Elmore Leonard's Mr. Paradise at JFK on the way to London because he's great for some downtime and I like those trade paperbacks. But where is my next great book?

I have Lay of the Land by Richard Ford and that looks promising. Picked it up in London and iot has one of those fabric bookmarks. So classy and sa doamned annoying. I don't know what to do with the thing! I could cut it off but hey, that's not nice. I ordered an old copy of Seeing Calvin Coolidge in a Dream by paleocon John Derbyshire. I like the Derb's comments on The Corner of the National Review web site and this is supposed to be a charming little book, but we'll see.

In the mean time, the object of my lust is this: A new MacBook. There's a program at work that allows you to buy one at a discount and a few dollars are taken out of each paycheck to pay it off. Way cool. All I see when I look at this baby are the novels I want to write, the podcasts and songs to record for my fan base, and the videos to shoot and edit. See? I am not even a Mac owner and I'm already insufferable.

London Times

Being in London during the 06 elections and you feel a tad under water. The Beeb reported the main news -- good day for dems, bad for W -- but they didn't report the races I wanted to hear about.

In Westchester, my son's therapist's brother-in-law ran against a Republican, Sue Kelly. He's John Hall, the lead singer of Orleans. I had to wait to read about his return. It turns out that Kelly ranaway from a reporter on video when asked about Mark Foley, the congressman with a thing for teenage pages.

I was also interested in the Attorney general race. I liked Jeanine Pirro as the Westchester AG but she ran a lousy campaign against Hillary that even George Pataki urged her to drop out. And she was caught on tape urging a top NYPD official to bug her husband's yacht because of a long-brewing affair. Jeanine P is one of those odd contradictions: she fights for women's rights, she is smart and tough but seems addicted to her scumbag husband. That is why her initial race with Hillary would have been something to watch.

Still, couldn't vote for Andrew Cuomo. He needs to be stopped and now.

London was fun. The weather held out and it's a city with a ton of energy. The neighborhoods last for about a block or two and I cannot walk for long without getting lost. Oh, but for NYC's grid system...

Not all was fun for some. One morning, outside the hotel, a maid was furiously scrubbing the sidewalk. According to the clerk, there had been a stabbing. Couldn't wait to get back to Manhattan after that.

But even that didn't compare to a cab ride where I was lectured on the ultimate terrorists, George W. Bush. He ranted about the terrors of the F-16 and the B-52 bomber and no one mentions that. "And don't get me started on bloody Israel." So, here it comes. I paid the fare and he said that one day Americans would be lucky enough to go to Cuba like the rest of the world. Ah, sweet Cuba. Fine cigars, teen prostitutes and jails for homosexuals. Sounds so civilized, no?

Can She Be Stopped?

Okay, let's talk Hillary. Pundit and editorialist John Podhoretz has a new book dedicated to the post-Senate career of Hillary Clinton -- Can She Be Stopped? -- and he is not hopeful for the Republicans in '08. Can she be stopped indeed? My question is, should she?

I didn't vote for the First Lady back in 2000 -- not because she was a carpetbagger who looked like she was about to hurl when she talked about her favorite team, the New York Yankees. I didn't vote for her because she was a liberal hell-bent on turning us into Sweden or France. So, why the Lazio support?

I didn't feel that the senate seat of my state should go towards marriage therapy. When a man cheats on his wife and humiliates her, he has to make some amends and offer some gifts. A promise to never cheat again; time in a therapist's couch; a nice cruise or a convertible and boob job. These are all understandable concessions, but the senate seat for the state of New York? No, thank you.

That said, Hil has been a fine neo-con senator. She supported the war in Afghanistan and the liberation of Iraq. (I am sure she overheard or sat in on some scary Saddam horror stories as First Lady and brings them with her in the well of the Senate). She has supported the troops and done a fine job of bringing defense dollars to a job-strapped upstate New York.

So, why won't I vote for her?

Simple: she is going to turn.

In order to get the nomination, Sen. Clinton will have to renounce the Bush administration, her vote on the war and the efforts the troops are making in trying to build a democracy in a land that has known a brutal dictator for the past three decades.

She must accept the nod of Cindy Sheehan, Michael Moore and the folks of the MoveOn and others. Just look at the pathetic response Sen. John McCain received at The New School in Madison Square Garden. For a liberal institution where an open mind to different ideas is supposed to be cornerstone of the school's mission, the senator and war hero was mocked and heckled for his calls for civility and tolerance. Does Sen. Clinton really think that those students or anyone who reads The Daily Kos will ever vote for her with her pro-America record?

After she wins her senate race in New York, she will move to the center and then rush to the Left faster than a feminist at an autograph session for the WNBA.

Turn, turn, turn.

Treats for the Senses

Some things I am enjoying these days:

Eyes: I saw two terrific DVDs, courtesy of the Briarcliff Manor Library. Sylvia, everyone's favorite angsty poet/pre-feminist martyr starring Gwyneth Paltrow, and Swimming Pool starring the ever alluring Charlotte Rampling and some French chick who spends half the movie topless. Both flicks deal with writers trying to make sense of their inner worlds and the female leads wer both wonderful. Paltrow looks wonderful as a honey blonde and she captured Plath's ambition and ultimate breakdown. Rampling not only doesn't wear any make-up, she seems to have been dipped in khaki. Despite this near-criminal act, she remains ever mysterious and radiant. For you Rampling Fetishists, go kill an hour here.

Ears: Just ripped the debut disk from Arctic Monkeys and it sounds like fast, lean punk played by kids who never heard the word 'irony.' Just what the doctor ordered.

Taste: I attended a cocktail party and asked for a scotch. The bartender -- a slim Asian gal hired to fit the modern Japanese theme of the slick restaurant -- said "I knew you were going to order that." After a Glen Livet, I ordered a Johnny Walker Black. Mmmmm.

Smell: Bought a dozen bars of Ivory Soap. If you don't feel clean after using the best soap on the planet, you have OCD, my friend.

Feel: Right now I am loving Lightning Fields by Dana Spiotta. She writes about three women trying to make sense of life in late 90s LA. One character is a personal shopper for businessmen with too much moeny and no taste. She expands to specialty restaurants that cater to people's specific dietary needs and only seats four people a night. Models and actresses quake as they thank her for cooking their macrbiotic meals so that they consume hearly zero calories in the course of a $600 meal. Little do they know that the chef uses a stick of butter in each meal.

Failure Watch Along the Right

This will make news on Monday in the blogosphere: William F. Buckley declares the US' adventure in Iraq a failure just one week after Francis F declared the death of neo-conservatism in the New York Times Magazine. It's a good time to be an anti-war neocon; your words will be hailed as brave and certain quarters of the media will welcome you with open arms.

Ah, a sensible conservative, who would have thought?. Like the character of The Good German in the WWII films of the 50s, liberals respect only those neocons who have turned against the liberation of Iraq. Would the editors of the NYT Magazine have given Richard Perle or William Kristol four pages to argue that we should stay the course? Of course not.

That said, WFB's piece is more important because it it published in his weekly column and on the National Review web site, the online arm of the journal he founded in 1950. He has yet to call for the withdrawal of troops but his words will mark a turning point in the argument of the war. In the way that fashion designers often create bold and unwearable items, the basic ideas often trickle down to the shoping mall months later: the height of the skirt, the cut of the shoulder, even the overall color scheme.

Likewise, WFB's ideas may signal a greenlight to neocons that the war is over and the mission unaccomplished.

More Unrest in Iraq?

As if we needed more bad news from Iraq, it seems the opening bell of the civil war has been rung. This week's bombing of the Shiite shrine -- a gorgeous structure -- may be the turning point of sending the liberated and struggling democracy towards utter chaos. Of course, un-cool heads have already blamed US forces and Israel for the attack because, after all, no rational Muslim would ever desecrate a holy place in the heart of Islam. Then again, these are the same folks who hate it when US forces chase insurgents into mosques only to find a cache of weapons in a house of worship.

So what do the US Army and Marines do if a full scale civil war does break out? Do they take a side or stay neutral and try to establish order? Is order even possible?

Let's hope so.

American of the Year

I now know whom every junior high school should be named after. Behold:

Baltimore Mayor Martin O'Malley says, 'We want to turn over the Port of Baltimore, the home of the Star Spangled Banner, to the United Arab Emirates? Not so long as I'm mayor and not so long as I have breath in my body.'"

Post Port-um Depression

What is the Bush White House smoking? I am Odd Man Out at work as the only employee who readily admits he voted for W. in '04 and wishes he cast the ballot for him in '00, although we have plenty of little old ladies who voted for Pat Buchanan to thank in the mean time.

But handing over the ports to the United Arab Emirates -- what the fork?! Do we really have to say outloud how awesomely bad this idea is? Sure, the fact that two of the 9/11 hijackers hail from the UAE does not mean that an entire nation can be painted with the same brush, but why are we leaving our ports in the hands of a people who may hire locals who harbor an interest in our absolute demise? It could be an American citizen but statistically speaking, the vast majority of people who wish us ill fit a certain profile.

And now John McCain is supporting President Bush, who promises to veto any legislation to overturn this rule. I had no idea that tone-deafness was contagious.

In all of this mess, one thing must be noted: The Left has discovered racial profiling. The same folks who fainted at the thought of passing a wand over Middle Eastern men between the ages of 20 and 45 at our airports now refuse to allow an Arab nation to oversee the ports of NY, NJ and Miami. Welcome to the real world, folks. It only took you four years.

Cheney of Fools

This has to be a pretty good week for the White House. Last week, White House officials were reportedly cringing about this week’s upcoming hearings on Hurricane Katrina and Condoleezza Rice’s testimony before a Senate sub-committee. Instead, the media has been chasing the minute-by-minute details of the Cheney hunting accident from the previous weekend. Ah, a perfect non-scandal. Meanwhile, Salon and other news agencies released photos of the alleged torture from the Abu Ghraib prison. Instead of discussing the photos -– and the dangers these images might put our soldiers in -– the media is chasing an embarrassing discharge of a shotgun on a Texas ranch. The heavy breathing on the Loony Left is limitless for one simple reason: Dick Cheney is evil and everything he says or touches must therefore be evil. Look at the photos that the local NY newspapers have chosen: all Cheney, all sneer. I can only hope that some clueless Democrats will demand hearings on the accident to discuss hunting and gun ownership in general. Maybe, if we are lucky, these hearings will be chaired by Joe Biden or Hillary Clinton and have testimony by folks from PETA and Rosie O’Donnell. Pennsylvania, Ohio and maybe even Florida will be Republican for a generation.

Last of a Dead Breed

Six days ago, Dell announced that it would no longer manufacturer its Dell DJ. My wife just asked why and I said "Everyone and their grandmother has an iPod."

Except me, of course. I have now joined the ranks of Corvair, Tucker and DeSoto drivers. Now, anyone know where I can get a can of New Coke?

Officers and Gentlemen

Just finished Officers and Gentlemen by Evelyn Waugh and it was fine. It's the second book of his 'Sword of Honour' trilogy about a Catholic officer serving in the second world war. Waugh has a sharp and unforgiving eye for the officers of old England who knew that this new war was very different from the first. One character remarks that unlike WWI, no one will write poetry about the battles they were fighting. No Sigfried Sassoon, Robert Graves and others.

If you've overdosed on Band of Brothers and Saving Private Ryan, read OaG as a tonic."

A Writer Writes

It's been a good and bad week of writers. Let's start with the good news.

This is one of the best magazine pieces I've read in ages. I not only wished I wrote it, but I could see how it could easily appear in The New Yorker with a few minor edits. Great stuff.

Nora Vincent, a lesbian neo-con, hasn't been around for a while and I've missed her. I even mentioned her as a possible replacement for the repititious Maureen "Men are dumb because no one will marry me" Dowd. Now, Vincent has a book about her adventures dressed as a guy, called Self-Made Man. It wasn't a walk in the park, she tells us. Listen to Instapundit and his wife interview her here.

It was a very bad week for shallow, dishonest writers. First, James Frey took his lumps from Oprah when he admits that his drug rehab memoir was mostly fiction. (Duh, says most of the publishing industry who declined to publish the book when it was pitched as a novel).

But the writer dressing-down of the week has to go to Hugh Hewitt grilling of LA Times columnist/snarky lisper Joel Stein. He wrote a some-what brave if embarassing column that claims that since he does not support the war he refuses to support the troops. He does not wish them ill but neither does he admire them or the job they are trying to perform in hellish circumstances.

You have to admire Stein's bravery and I bet there are a ton of anti-war Lefties who wish they could say what Steine wrote. (A while back, a neighbor almost came out and wished for another attack on US troop as we saw in Black Hawk Down right before the election. It would be horrible, she said, but maybe it could help things...)

Hewitt did his usual shtick, which is to show that reporters and media members are reliably liberal and therefore anti-war/freedom/Bush. Stein's shallow answers and the realization that he could have been more precise is truly embarassing. Back to the gossip pages, Joel.

Mullets in Aisle Three

Here are three things I will admit to in this blog and nowhere else:

1. I am not looking forward to the day that John Updike dies. I check the obits for his name and I miss the man already. That said, I hope there's a few unpublished books in his desk that will see the light of day after he passes. Can you define selfish anymore pathetic and sweatier than that?

2. I daydream about flying a fighter jet, playing drums in a power-pop band and directing a film. It's called Ships at Night, about a young, callow naval officer who makes a critical mistake and his communication ship is captured by the Nazis. The senior officers are kept in captivity and tortured while the crew and the young, disgraced officer are sent on a humiliating PR mission around pre-war Europe to promote the might of the Nazis. They escape their captors and rescue their commanding officers and the damned boat too. They pick up a few refugees -- a family with a precocious girl and a mute boy and a young Jewish computer (what they called female mathematicians in the 30s) -- along the way and escape to freedom.

3. The last CD I burned to my Dell DJ MP3 player is Flashback: The Best of .38 Special.

Hold on Loosely, y'all!

Smile for the Camera

The public is eager to feast its eyes on two unpublished pictures. In celebrity-obsessed America, the first is the ultrasound image of Angelina and Brad's baby. In Washington, which has been called Hollywood for ugly people, it's a picture of the President shaking hands with scumbag lobbyist Jack Abramoff. Like the picture and video clips of Bill Clinton embracing his favorite thong-snapping, pizza delivery gal, reporters and critics want to show W. within 25 yards of the worst briber in, oh, as many years.

Does this prove guilt by association? Doesn't matter. The Anti-Bush Left wants to imply that because the President took a few pictures with one spectacularly bad man, he and his administration is the worst in history. No matter that the Commander-in-Chief has his picture taken with hundreds if not thousands of people each year.

I mean, Jimmy Carter had his picture taken with Yassir Arafat and Michael Moore. It doesn't mean that he's an anti-American demagogue.

Wait, on second thought...

Arrrrrr, Matey

It's been a weekend of depressing news: Two miners found dead in West Virginia, a whale dies as rescuers try to remove it from the Thames in London, and the parents of a kidnapped US reporter plead for their daughter's life. The only highpoint was something that should be from a movie: Sailors from the cruise missile destroyer USS Winston Churchill capture a pirate boat off the coast of Somalia.

Avast, ye hearties.

(Oh, and the official first draft of my freelancing piece is done, thank you).

A Little Victory Lap

Last night at the Incisive Media awards ceremony, Waters won Magazine of the Year. My publisher called from the London event and he was ecstatic. The New York office heard the news in real-time because a few of us were huddled around the speakerphone as a co-worker gave us the play-by-play. When our magazine was announced, the cheers shook the ceiling.

Congratulations to Eugene Grygo, colleague and cohort, for winning Scoop of the Year. Much deserved.

On Beauty and Gigolos

I finished Zadie Smith's On Beauty a couple of weeks ago and it's still swirling around in my head. She writes such great characters that even though they have their limitations and go their separate ways, you want them to remain together in the same household. And for a long book, you want it to be even longer. I avoided her White Teeth follow-up, The Autograph Man because it received some harsh reviews and seemed like a perfect example of the sophomore slump. Forget that, I'm getting it this weekend.

In the meantime, I'm reading Easy Riders, Raging Bulls, Peter Biskind's take on the new Hollywood generation of the '70s. It's a great book and I get to hop around -- this chapter here, that section there. I've heard a lot of these stories before but not in one volume and the portraits really stick out. Steven Spielberg seems like the ultimate loser schlub, which didn't jibe with the boy wonder coverage he received after Close Encounters. And Francis Coppola practically deserved his exile and stangnant career for his behavior before, during and after Apocalypse Now.

But my favorite character has to be Paul Schrader. I'm on a Schrader kick these days. I borrowed the Auto Focus DVD from the Briarcliff Library for the third time and played the flick with his voice over commentary. He's a so-so filmmaker but his stories are great. I read somewhere that a person would rather discuss his films than actually see them and he had a point. Schrader is intellectual, articulate and has a world weary view of the world around him. And he sounds like a mixture of Truman Capote and a high school gym teacher/teen minister. I am trying to find a DVD of American Gigolo with his commentary but no luck. Isn't that film 25 years-old now?

The Bigger Bang

This fall I picked up my first Steven Hunter novel, Hot Springs. I'm a snob when it comes to thrillers -- I only read Elmore Leonard and Alan Furst -- but I loved his column on the DC Sniper a few years ago. As a gun enthusiast, he wrote a smart piece on what we know about the sniper who terrorized Washington DC after 9/11: he was a good shot but not a great shot; he chose stationary targets and he was stationary himself when shooting. It was the best kind of article: you were instantly smarter after reading it and couldn't wait to parrot some of the best lines to family and friends.

Hot Springs is about Earl Swagger, a former Marine who is recruited to clean up the Arkansas hot spot after the war. It's hard to read the book and not see a young Nuck Nolte -- tall, haunted, and ready for action -- in the role. It's hard to think who could do this right now becuase we're in a weird era of action stars: could Will Smith or Colin Farrell play a man who has seen too much on Iwo Jima? Who has the square jaw these days? No one comes to mind.

One thing about Hunter is he knows guns. He writes about Colts and Brownings the wat James Joyce wrote about Dublin and John Updike wrote about housewives in the 60s. Hot Springs -- read it now.

Closer But No Cigar

Yuk yuk yuk. Rented Mike Nichols' Closer from the library the other day and semi-enjoyed it. It was billed as Carnal Knowledge for the new millenium and it's true that it's about some spectacularly good looking people leading miserable lives. I guess Clive Owen's character is Jack Nickolson's woman-hater but Owen was more of a softy. He at least has feelings beyond self-pity, which seemed to be the fuel for Julia Roberts' adulterous photographer and Jude Law's pathic obituary writer/novelist. Natalie Portman played a fragile and elusive stripper -- she seemed to realize how lucky she was to be in the movie. Rent it for the cool photography and Clive Owen's randy doctor. His online sex chat with Jude Law is worth the rental price.

Outrageous 2006 Predictions

This isn't going to be a good year for Hillary Clinton. Sure, she'll be re-elected to the US Senate from her home state of New York without breaking a sweat, but 2006 will be the year the anti-war faction becomes a full-fledged wing of the Democratic Party.

They may make up one-third of registered Democrats and they won't be searching for third party candidates like Ralph Nader. Instead, they'll stay inside the old party and shun anyone who voted for the war. This is bad news for Hil, who stands by her vote. Even if she switches sides and deamnds that the troops come home now, it will be seen as too calculated.

So who runs? Russ Feingold is on everyone's lips and Al Gore seems poised to think about this seriously. I see Howard Dean throwing his hat in the ring after he steps down from the party leadership role this year. Paging Dr. Dean.

Satellite Radio Days

The media have discovered Howard Stern again the week before he says farewell to terrestrial radio and starts his new gig at Sirius, the satellite radio station. The coverage has been glowing and there are a few interesting things to note: it seems like each interviewer from the mainstream media asks the same question: doesn't the FCC cencorship implore you to be more creative? Stern refuses to see how he can be more clever and I loved one complaint he made to Newsweek: the threats of hefty fines have forced him to curtail his show. "I haven't had a porn star on the show in six months!"

Two installments on The Today Show, a glowing profile on 60 Minutes, two pages in Newsweek plus cover stories in New York and Esquire. If I were the editor of a magazine that covered this story, why not write the non-Howard profile? Interview Opie and Anthony on Sirius' competitor XM? Ask them about what Stern can expect. Did they drop off the media radar because practically no one has satellite radio? Will his contract depend on signing up new subscribers? Is the freedom all that wonderful when you have fewer listeneers? Does the joy of using the F word fade after a while?

And another story idea: I want to go over to satellite and listen to Stern and his two channels but the company isnt making it easy for me. Why? The handheld Sirius devices are ugly and expensive. $349 for a lousy looking handheld? Why don't they hire the guy who designed the iPod and get him or her to work on a snazzy handheld version? To make matters worse, XM has a handheld device that costs $149.99 and isn't too bad looking. Hmmmmm. XMmmmmmmmm.

Giving One Pinter Pauses

"The crimes of the United States have been systematic, constant, vicious, remorseless, but very few people have actually talked about them. You have to hand it to America. It has exercised a quite clinical manipulation of power worldwide while masquerading as a force for universal good. It's a brilliant, even witty, highly successful act of hypnosis."

Ah, the words of a Nobel winner. Yassir Arafat? Jimmy Carter, you ask? No, the man of letters, Harold Pinter and winner of the 2005 Nobel Prize for Literature. If the Swedish Academy wanted to praise an artist's work while smashing the US in a single choice, they could not have done better than old Mr. P.

Of course, not every decision and policy of the US has been successful or 100 percent noble but the playwright's screed begs the question, if we are such vile scum, why is the United States still standing? The biggest guns? The old USSR had some heavy artillery and yet it fell to the wayside after 80 or so years of torturing its citizens. The empty promise of the American Dream? Not so empty because people are dying to come to this country each and every day. The NYTimes Magazine had a fascinating article about 30 year-old Jordanian man. He was conflicted: does he travel to the US and work for Microsoft or does he join the Jihad? Decisions, decisions.

Pinter sees the US' glass not only as half empty but the liquid stale and putrid as well. This is one odd switch between the Neocons and the New Left: The Neocons are now the pie-in-the-sky dreamers (the Middle East can support a democracy!) while the New Left are the sticks in the mud. Ask many Lefties about deposing Saddam and trying to establish a democracy and someone will soon say, 'some people cannot be run by a democracy.' Imagine if Dick Cheney said, "some people cannot operate a VCR."

(Yes, yes, a VCR and a democracy are two different things but just because a people do not have experience with free elections does not mean that they naturally want a vicious dictatorship.)

It's a shame that Pinter cannot see the good that America has done to for the world: we share our technology and hope; we want democracy to flourish and we have a nasty habit of liberating people from the vice of fascism. This last fact misses the ailing Pinter, who, if the Americans had not joined the fight in WWII, would certainly have a Nazi swastika on the corner of his typewriter paper when he wrote his first play in the early 1960s.

Congratulations to Harold Pinter. Brilliant playwrite and a perfect dupe of the Nobel Committee.

Murtha of a Nation

Rep. John Murtha intrigues me. His background is heroic, his idea for pulling troops from Iraq is suicidal but his role in Hilary's future is interesting. After a few months of Cindy Sheehan's shaming of the president, her dingbat idea is catching fire. Even Republican Senators are wondering that three years of a shooting war is too much for a country to bear, even though casualties haven't reached the levels of the morning of D-Day. How, one has to wonder, does the junior senator from New York handle this growing anti-war spasm?

Hillary Clinton, an anti-Saddam hawk, cannot be happy. She has heard the intelligence report since the mid-90s, she has sat on intelligence committees, and met with hindreds if not thousands of soldiers, reservists and airmen in her tour of military bases in New York. How does a neocon - yes, a neocon - convince the anti-war, bring them home, no blood for oil Left that she is their chice for the White House in '08.

Easy: she can't. Expect Hillary to go to the other side to join Sheehan, Murtha and countless other senators and representatives from both the right and left who have lost their stomach for the war. It's over. Expect to see politicians on listening tours so that they can vote to bring the troops home.

The O'Hara Factor

English Major Bears His Soul: I've tried to read Appointment in Samarra at least three times and I couldn't make it past the third page. I hate to admit this but I am a font queen -- if the book is ugly, the font too small and the paper too ugly, I usually give up. And because most of John O'Hara's work is out of print and only promoted in a poorly packaged collections, the publishers are practically daring readers to discover this amazing writer. Appt in Sam is well worth the wait and is designed for readers who have lived a little. I've heard and read several critics say it is the true Jazz Age novel instead of The Great Gatsby and they are right. Appt in Sam is about class, drink and desperation while F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote about longing, true love, and limitless wealth -- all things teenage future English majors dream about. Talk about playing to the back row. If there is a list of great American novels, Appointment in Samarra should rank between Couples by John Updike and The Human Stain by Philip Roth.

I'm Famous! (and kidding, if you're humor-impaired)

This is me, on the 'perils' of gay marriage. Enjoy