Bent Notes

Michael Weiss at Pajamas Media details the nature of Bloomberg’s stint as NYC mayor.  A classic portrait of an opportunist who has been so busy climbing some percieved success ladder while harboring vague notions of what he ought to care about on a policy and overarching-philosophy level that he’s a hugely easy mark for every goofball Freedom-Hater in the book.  A whole city suffers as a result. 

Money line: “The kind of velvet fascism that rules American corporate culture now rules Gotham.”

The modern-day Democrat party: the perfect confluence of the silly and the totalitarian.  Ditto for the city of Denver, which has a Freedom-Hater mayor.

We’d already told you about the no-fried-food convention edict.  Now the ball caps and fanny packs for volunteers have to be made from organic cotton and made by union labor.  Only one problem:  There are no such things.

From time to time, commenters take BN to task for what is perceived to be stridency and over-the-top label-mongering.  Sorry, but we’re talking about a once-distinguished political party, a major institution in the civic life of the United States of America that has become a corrosive force and a disgrace.  There is nothing to take seriously in any of their unremittingly stupid and childish positions, but there is everything to take seriously about their madness for power.

This is no time to take the ho-hum attitude that “everything runs in cycles.  It’s just statistically the Democrats’ turn to have control of Congress and the White House again.”  If the current crop of Freedom-Haters gets control of both houses of Congress as well as 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, you can bet that they’ll do everything and anything - and I’m not just talking about the normal, at least quasi-legit, channels of shoring up power - to make sure they never again lose control of American life.

Certain types might counter that Republicans also love power and do everything possible to consolidate it and perpetuate it.  Eu contraire.  We have a current president who is a mush-headed Reasonable Gentleman at least as often as he’s anything close to a conservative with a consistent vision. The current GOP prez candidate is even worse.  He’s absolutely pathetic.  And the pork-addicted, principle-deficient Republicans on Capitol Hill are obviously perfectly willing to piss away their control of the agenda, as proven in November 2006.

Which is why I’m not real bullish on the future of my country.  We’re going to be under the thumb of a Marxist machine more concerned with making us eat arugula, ride bicycles and shiver in our little dens of state housing than with freedom, dignity, national security and pleasing God.

Robert Tracinski says that the green-lifestyle pussy-footing and token gestures of the trendy celebs and the Freedom-Haters is their way of feeling good without really carrying that stuf they spew to its logical conclusion: dismantling Western civilization and living like squalid peasants.

Secretary Rice says to North Korea regarding the 60-page dossier on its nuke program, “Inadequate.  We want to know about uranium enrichment and technology proliferation.”

Finally got the high-speed Internet I’d been assuming I was on the road to.  With the exception of the NYC trip, the last two weeks have been a nightmare.  I do believe it is behind me now.

It all got started because Mrs. BN and I decided to join the 21st century and get cell phones.  I met with a Verizon rep over coffee one morning and told her that if we were givign up our land line, I’d like to go ahead and be done with the company that had been providing our phone service altogether.  That company had been providing us with DSL Internet access as well.  She said, “No problem.  We’ll fix you up with wireless access that you get with an air card that you stick into your USB port.”

Seemed simple enough.  Alas, I spent hours in tech support hell, usually winding up the interlude with the tech support person saying, “Hmmm, I can’t tell you what’s going on.  You probably should call the tech support department at the manufacturer of your computer.”  (More than once, it involved said person saying, “Mr. Quick, please stop yelling.”)  This, after I’d made it clear I had two computers, a desktop and a laptop, both of which were accessing the Net at a crawl.

This morning, I finally busted a move.  Took the air card and installation disc back to the Verizon store and said, “We dig the phones, but the Net access ain’t making it.”  Then I went to our Comcast office, with which we already deal for our cable TV, and said “Sign me up for the high-speed stuff.”  The front-counter gal was nice, but she just basically handed me an installation kit.  I explained that I had two computers and she said I’d need to go to Circuit City and buy a router.  Did that, came home and started in.  The Comcast manual said that I’d need to get a screwdriver and take the cover off my desktop and do something with something called DCI slots or something like that.

I called a buddy of mine who is an IT whiz for a big multinational company and he came by after work.  He got it all figured out and I’m doing fine now.

But the whole computer / software industry is in need of massive streamlining.  I have to believe that there are a whole herd of folks like me who feel like they’ve been dumped by the raodside in the middle of the desert with a barely readable map and no compass. 

 I know a lot of bloggers have a lot of skills in that whole area; Little Green Footballs comes to mind as one blog that routinely makes improvements in technical things and explains what has been done for readers.

Me, I’d rather have a syringe full of kerosene injected into my left testicle than deal with that stuff.

Anyway, I have my writing deadlines met for the month, I have good Net access again, I have three gigs this weekend and I’m able to see the possibility of sanity again.

Larry Kudlow interviews Alaska governor Sarah Palin.  This is the stuff that can win elections.  This is the stuff that can rescue America and Western civilization.

Age 93 and still holding down a standing Monday night gig at 51st and Broadway.  He played the heads to most tunes and took a few solos.  Great trio behind him.

In New York, everything is large-scale, including restaurant portions.  I submit as evidence the hot pastrami on rye at Benash Deli at 55th and 7th Avenue.  Also the steamed fish at Bennie’s Thai Cafe, 88 Fulton Street.

Morgan Zvangirai has said he won’t participate in a runoff against Robert Mugabe, that he won’t put his followers in mortal danger for casting a vote.

You hear this kind of stuff, and it does make you wonder where divine justice is.  Is nothing or no one going to step in and end this evil?  All observers, both Zimbabwean and international, confirmed that Zwangirai beat Mugabe in the original election in March. Since then, the ZANU-PF goons have not only made a mockery of the notion of free elections but arrested, beaten and tortured citizens without fear of reprisal.

For decades, that land was the breadbasket of Africa, with one of its most thriving economies.  Now, it’s arguably the sickest society on earth.

On the day the W says outright - finally - that we need to drill in ANWR, what do the House Freedom-Haters call for?

Nationalizing the country’s oil refineries.

We’re the frogs, and the water’s just about at full boil.

The chaos hasn’t abated yet.  Getting ready for the first of the benefits, trying to meet deadlines (one left for Into Art, then I can get to work on the piece for Bloom), trying to squeeze in a planning meeting for the other benefit (the story of how there came to be two benefits is a tale in and of itself).  I ought to start packing for New York.  Speaking of NYC, the purpose of that trip is a step-grandson’s graduation from the International School of Photography.  We were to meet his parents out there, but my step-daughter just had an accute pancreatitis sattack and is in the hospital in Fort Collins, CO, so they won’t be part of the proceedings.  Also, we got cell phones and - ostensibly - broadband Internet from Verizon.  My learning curve with the phone was fairly free of grim, joyless, ugly moments.  Not entirely, mind you, but it was nothing like the damn-it zone into which I’ve been thrust with this broadband business.  My Net access on both my desktop and my laptop are down to a crawl.  I’ve spent about two hours with tech support - eating up my basic-plan minutes, doncha know -and now my case has been assigned a “trouble ticket” number and referred to the engineering department.

So I have only so much mad left in me for the usual cast of villains against which we rail here at BN.

Don’t give up on me.  I’ll come roaring back with a flurry of posts very soon.

Blogging’’s been light lately, I know.  Four magazine deadlines, two gigs, planning for two flood-relief benefit shows, a newspaper column, all before I leave for five days in NYC next Friday.  Then more gigs and another deadline as soon as I get back.

I’m paying attention to the scene, though.  I’m aware that the number-two guy in Zimbabwe’s opposition party is being held for “treason,” that Iran rejected the latest bag of incentives offered by the EU and the US, that the Supreme Court made one a very suicidal decision to give Gitmo detainees habeus corpus privileges (a 5-4 decision) and that the storms and floods continue to wreak upheaval here in the midwest.  Anybody see the footage of downtown Cedar Rapids, Iowa?  This fairly good-sized city’s downtown, with fairly high-rise buildings - underwater, ruined.

Right now I have to do prep for my radio show, then hit the gym, then go to our local Verizon outlet (the BN household is finally going cellular!), then jam with a bass player I’m considering for collaboration, then go play a gig with another bass player.

You know, though, if something really yanks my chain, I’ll take the time to sound off right here.

The Stalinist windfall-profits legislation gets voted down.  For now.  You can be sure this kind of thing will resurface soon if you don’t carry passion for America’s foundational principles into the voting booth with you in November.

The jack-booted totalitarians in charge of the U.S. Senate aren’t even waiting for the Marxist From Chicago to take office.  They’re pushing a bill right now - as in as I type this - on the floor of their utterly degraded chamber - to impose a windfall profits tax on oil companies.  Of course, those companies can avoid the tax if they “invest” the “extra” profit in alternative energies.

Get a clue, America, before we’re all hauled off to the re-education camps.

The Chicago Marxist reiterates his resolve to slap oil companies with a “windfall profits tax.”

Here’s the thing about Freedom-Hating totalitarians like Obama (you read me right; note the relish implicit in his phrase “I’ll make them pay . . . “):  their proposals come across as stupid, of course, but they themselves are not stupid.   They just count on voters being stupid enough to swallow this stuff about “using the tax money to help working families reduce their costs.”  They know oil companies will pass the costs along to consumers as yet higher prices, which leaves consumers as strapped as they are now. And there won’t be one more drop of oil than there is now.  But the Marxists will have power, and that’s all that matters to them.

He must be stopped. 

Mary Grabar’s piece on Townhall today on why an Obama victory would mean the Left’s victory in the culture wars.

I think I’ll let her know that I, too, am one of those “few teachers in humanities departments who must hide their views and work on the fringes.”

We’d been having these insanely torrential thunderstorms nearly daily since the beginning of June.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I guess I acknowledged that something’s gotta give.  I really started seeing the writing on the wall when, arriving at a downtown hotel for a gig last evening, I noticed the water in the park across the street, bounded on its far side by a river, lapping at the Brown Street entrance.  My musical associate came in from west of town, near Bloomington.  I asked him if there had been any difficulty coming in.  He shrugged and said that a few spots had been a little messy.  We set up and launched into our first tune when the hotel’s power went out.  Cooled our heels with cocktails for a bit, then got out acoustic guitars and continued our performance.  There were several tables of folks on the deck who were most appreciative.  Inside the lobby, the vibe was getting more tense.  It was getting dark, for one thing.  People in upper-floor rooms were getting rather warm.  More people were coming in off the interstate, seeking respite.

We cut our show short, packed up and headed back here.  Tim, Mrs. BN and I enjoyed lights and AC until about 10 PM.  Then it was candles and a battery-powered boom box.  The local news updates were the only noise punctuating the still night air, save for the whirring blades of National Guard helicopters.  We sat on the porch, drinking wine.  We eventually wandered a few blocks north to see what the perimeters of our “island” were.  We found the north shore of it, so to speak, about five blocks away.  People standing in what was left of their yards, talking looking around and wondering, wondering . . .

Power came back on about 4 AM.  We all got up about 7.  Tim heard about a route out of town via a north-side artery, so he went for it.  Mrs. BN and I went for a bike ride.  These are some of the scenes we saw, mere blocks away.  The White River crested late morning, so I think we’re out of the woods, but I don’t dig the 60 percent chance of more T-storms forecast for Tuesday.

Here’s how dire our situation is.  Neither our (ostensible) guy nor the Chicago Marxist were present for the climate-change bill vote in the Senate (which, thankfully, was shot down), but staffers from each office said their bosses both would have been yays.

Per the post below, McCain ain’t our Travis, so I’ guess we’ll each just have to channel his spirit our own bad selves.

Liveblogging the Saturday noon speech:  Got started 45 minutes late so the media had plenty of opportunity to cover the sitting-in-the-car-with-Bill-and-mom runup moment by moment.  As always, it’s all about them.

 Thanking the supporters now.  Something about “how important is is that we’ve let our young people know they can be anything they want to be.”  Thanks to veterans, childhood friends . . . here comes the word “women” and the obligatory audience whoop.

Spelling out all the different demographics comprising her supporters . . . huge whoop when she got yto “gay and straight.”

Anecdote about the woman who took her hand at a campaign stop and said “Would you please take care of me?” because she was in a health-care pinch.

Well, she said it. Flat-out endorsement of the Chicago Marxist.  “Throw my full support.”  Notable boos among the whoops.

“Democratic party is a family . . . Our paths have merged.” 

“An economy that ensures . . . our prosperity is broadly shared.”  “I will continue the fight until every American is insured.”

End discrimination, promote union organization.  Restore America’s standing in the world. 

Big howdy to Bill, who remains on the side of the stage.

“We cannot let this moment slip away.”  “Threat of lobal warming.”  “Bring our troops home from Iraq.”

“Critical that we understand what our choice really is.”

Here comes the identity crap . . woman, African-American, “achieved milestones.”  “I know there are still barriers out there.”  “Equal pay and equal respect.”

Setting herself up as pioneer:  “From now on it will be unremarkable for a woman to come this close to the nomination for president.”

“Always care deeply about what you believe in.”  Will do, Senator.  First recommendation she’s ever dispensed that I’m completely on board with.

Aw, jeez.  It’s only ten after one in the afternoon.  Too early for a bracing cocktail, but I’m going to be driven to it if I subject myself to much more of this.

She’s thanking supporters again.  Maybe we’re winding this up.

The most ambition-consumed, power-mad politician of a generation has acknowledged the limits to her ability to shape events.  I guess the thing to do is be big here and commend her on doing it with control and requisite graciousness.  Even freedom-hating monsters can do the grown-up thing under pressure.

And so we now know who the general is for the other side.  Like William Barrett Travis and his band defending the little outpost on the San Antonio River in 1836, we’re outmanned and out gunned.  But we’re right and they’re wrong and we’re ready for war.

Patterico on the relationship between the new unemployment figures ahd the recent increase in the minimum wage.