baldilocks

Possessed by Something

Here’s an incomplete rundown of the incoming salvos fielded by the Bush administration since 9/11:

Bush administration leaks CIA agent’s name! (we’ll see)

Bush relied on old intelligence about Iraqi WMDs! (see, they want to know what the intel is, so our enemies will know as well)

Bush can’t find Iraqi WMDs! (hasn’t looked in Syria yet)

Bush lied about reports of “Yellow cake!" (disproven; said that the Brits made the claim)

Bush lead country into Iraq quagmire! (we’ll see)

Bush makes Americans Imperialists! (does anyone making this claim have a dictionary or a history book?)

Bush leads Americans unwanted Occupation! (true; unwanted by his political opponents)

Bush leads Americans into unwinnable war in Iraq! (*snort*)

Bush calls Iraq, Iran and North Korea the “Axis of Evil!” (um, hello?)

Bush leads Americans into unwinnable war in Afghanistan! (BWAHAHAHAHA)

Bush knew! (sure, Hillary)

Bush lied! (this coming from the Ted Kennedy)

Bush=Hitler! (no concentration camps on La Brea Avenue. Yet.)<--joke

I have a radical theory about the frothy attempts to discredit President Bush. This thoery involves neither the 2000 presidential election, nor the similar treatment that former President Clinton received while in office.

The main reason that President Bush is fielding so many boomless grenades lobbed at his presidency is this: he’s a Christian. And not just a lip-service Christian either. He wears his faith right there on his lapel opposite his American flag pin, unashamed. You can’t see it, of course, but you can feel it.

Remember his inauguration? It seems to me as if all the demons from hell have been screeching in protest since the president uttered the words, “so help me, Jesus.”

DISCLAIMER: I’m not saying that all Bush critics are demons, nor am I saying that all Christians are pro-Bush. I’m also not saying that people of other faiths or no faith are anti-Bush or are demons, if the proliferation of heathens on my blogroll gives any indication. ;-) (You have to spell these things out for those with poorly developed reasoning skills.)

I am also not saying that Bush deserves no criticism. Two subjects, immigration and Saudi Arabia, come to mind—though I do like how we pulled out of SA after we slapped down Saddam Hussein’s regime.

I am saying that the criticism of President Bush is taking on an otherworldly cast. It seems that each time one accusation is discredited, up pops another, usually with the accuser(s) ignoring pertinent facts. Considering that we are in the aftermath of the worst attacks on American soil in history and in midst of an on-going war against those who want us to convert or die, I find this trend unnerving.

Perhaps, being a Christian myself, I am prone view events with a certain skew. However, every time the next Bush “scandal” comes up in the news, I am reminded of this biblical passage:

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil; that put darkness for light, and light for darkness; that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter! (Isaiah 5:20; KJV)

Yes. Such people bear watching like a hawk, to mix identical metaphors. And with commentary like this, one would think that some want the president, and, therefore, his mission—protecting us from the likes of Saddam Hussein--to fail.

I skew, you review.

Top Secret Info

Here’s an interesting take on Russia's attempt to expand the scope and reach of its armed forces. By putting forces in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, it appears that Russia is attempting to create for itself the type of influence that the US exerts with its military.

However, as the writer of the commentary muses, the only way that the Russians—or any other nation--can have anywhere near the type of dominating military force similar to that of the US has no relation to state-of-the-art fighters, rapid-reaction-forces, or synchronized air-ground operations.

Military reform is essential to the creation of armies that can wage contemporary wars successfully and both develop and use modern technology. Failing that, a pre-modern relationship between officers and soldiers remains the norm, and that entails all the forms of the czarist "regimental economy", dedovshchina (the violent and cruel treatment of young recruits in the Russian army), etc. Certainly, no innovative operational concepts or the means to train soldiers in them will develop out of that kind of army.

The key to the greatness of the United States’ military might and influence is this: the common, lowliest soldier is treated like a human being. Simple things like food, clothing, shelter and adequate training, taken for granted and, sometimes, complained about in our military, would be luxuries to a private in the Russian (or the Kenyan or the Saudi) army. From this simple concept, great things grow.

Frightening that the Russian military still has its nukes.

Opinions are Like Exit Only Doors

One of my intrepid commenters--you know who you are—regularly couches his criticisms of my humble (hah!) opinions with such laments as “that’s the problem with you bloggers…,” “your post is why real journalists don’t use internet resources…” Now, no one around here claimed to be a “real journalist,” Bill O’Reilly. (Oh, wait, that’s not your name.) I just read the reportage and commentary of the “real journalists” and register my opinion.

With that in mind--and just to yank my nameless commenter's chain a bit--I have added two categories of news and commentary links, called the “Professionals” and the “Experts.” The categories will be updated continuously as I add sources.

Commentary/blogs versus new reportage: here’s a general word to the wise. Don’t try to back up any position you take with me by using someone else’s commentary or bloggage unless he/she has factual information that you think I may have not considered when forming my opinion on a subject. Otherwise, the commentary/bloggage is just as worthless (or worthy) as mine. No more, no less.

Driven Over the Edge

Anyone who’s ever driven in California knows how crazy the drivers are here and it’s getting worse as each new day passes. Yesterday alone, I avoided at least three accidents in one parking lot. First, the usual: a man pulls out too far attempting to beat me while making a right turn. Later, as I was walking from Bristol Farms grocery store to my car, some woman flying low in a Mercedes nearly hit me while going nearly fifty miles per hour. Minutes later, a man in a van attempted to make a left turn in front of me. He had a stop sign, I didn’t. (He, at least, apologized.) As a hardcore Californian, I’ve learned to live with this and many other facts of Golden State life and to bide my time until I leave this God-forsaken state.

However, I don’t have to put up with this crap on a military base.

Admittedly, I sometimes have a lead foot myself, but on base, I know better. Apparently, some don’t.

Driving on base this morning, on my way to the gym, I noticed that a woman was tailgating me and attempting to pass me on the driver’s side. Keep in mind that the entire small base is a no-passing zone, that the speed limit is a grand total of fifteen miles per hour everywhere and that the road on which we were driving was right in front of the base headquarters, where much foot traffic crosses. (Saturday, the pedestrian traffic is, of course, lighter, but not non-existent.)

I watched this bag blow through two stop signs behind me. When I made a left turn onto the short access road to the gym, she was still in my back pocket. There was one more left turn to go--into the gym parking lot--and just as I was about to make it, I happened to glance in my left side mirror. She was attempting to pass me again and nearly t-boned me! I slammed on my brakes and on my horn and muttered much harsh language. She allowed me to make the turn and I parked. As I watched, she sped into the parking lot, turned the wrong way on one of the one-way rows and pulled into a space.

After all that, I still made it into the gym before she did.

Being highly ticked-off, I had one of my better cardio work-outs. There’s nothing like a little anger-fueled adrenalin to get that Stair Master moving.

Afterward, I came out and her car was still there. So I took down the pertinent information (she had no military sticker) and reported the incident to the gate security forces guy (an Army Specialist). He called some back-up and they took down my name, phone number, my report of the incident, her description and headed over to the gym to have a little chat with the bi-otch.

She was fifty-ish, real athletic looking and had the air of a high-ranking officer’s wife. If my estimate of her status is correct, I wonder what will come of it. I hope they give her my name.

Heck, what can they do? Make me retire in two weeks?

Frighteningly Accurate

Okay, this is the last of the Quizillas. These things are scary.

Morpheus


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

(Thanks to a hilarious Straight White Guy)

No Debates

Okay, I admit it. I fell down on the job in my journeyman task as a political blogger: I didn’t watch the debates, not the California gubernatorial one, nor the Democratic one. Why not? Because I can’t imagine anything more mind-numbingly boring than watching a bunch of politicians--powdered, moussed and pearly-teethed--take verbal shots at each other and wonk each other (and the viewers) to death. Additionally, Howard Dean’s smarmy grin and Arianna Huffington’s screechy Greek-accented voice are enough to make me want to hurl a brick through the TV screen. I paid a lot for that TV.

I’ll read about it, thank you.

Prime Beef

On the movie list: anything with Bruce Willis in it. If he asks me to go fishing, he’s mine! (See previous post.) Demi must be out of her mind.

Renaissance Man Remembered

My great uncle, John William Simpkins, Jr., would have been eighty-three years old today. He died in January of 2000, succumbing to cancer.

My parents divorced when I was very young. My Kenyan father and American mother had met while both were attending college. Fast-forward through the existence of yours truly and through the divorce, my father received his degree and high-tailed it back to Kenya, where he resides to this day.

So, for a time, during my mother’s single years, I lived with my great uncle and aunt, John and Alma Simpkins.

What can you say about a guy who had everything?

Looking Around

Here’s some interesting bloggage that I’ve been checking out today:

There’s a new guy in town named Donnie: Army brat, half German and all around interesting guy, so far. Can’t wait until he hooks up his comments feature.

My Canadian buddy, Paul Jané, has a sweet and painful post about seeing his aged and invalid uncle during his south-of-the-border sojourn.

Frank J. says relax with the “blogwar.” It’s time for some a real hand-to-hand combat.

And Michael Williams muses on Fat Folks Rights and others' rights to mock them.

(Thanks to Pathetic Earthlings, host of Carnival of the Vanities #53)

UPDATE: Donnie is changing his domain to http://www.aintdoneit.com soon. Apparently Blogspot is ticking him off, as it did me.

It Really Was There

Some may have noticed that there was a post that momentarily existed here. It had a (shoddily edited)screen shot in it, so I deleted it. I'll try such a thing again after I hone my image editing skills.

Cold Busted

Boy that General Wesley Clark sure is a jokester. According to this Weekly Standard article, the White House never received a call from the good general, giving lie to his "joke" about not having White House advisor Karl Rove return his phone calls.

Unfortunately for Clark, the White House has logged every incoming phone call since the beginning of the Bush administration in January 2001. At the request of THE DAILY STANDARD, White House staffers went through the logs to check whether Clark had ever called White House political adviser Karl Rove. The general hadn't. What's more, Rove says he doesn't remember ever talking to Clark, either.

What a knee-slapper!

(Thanks to Dean Esmay)

UPDATE: Jeff Quinton over at Backcountry Conservative has an impressive list of bloggage and articles on the comedic Democrat 2004 presidential candidate.

Easy Street

I’ve been fortunate in my blogging in that I had some of the Big Dogs like Charles Johnson, Rob Smith, Dean Esmay and Stephen Green to promote my work (and it is work). When I went over 10,000 hits last week after only a few weeks of blogging, I was flabbergasted and humbled. I regularly read the archives of the above-mentioned and see their hard and, initially, unrecognized work. Seeing that reminds me that I am standing on their shoulders.

Rob/Acidman’s early blogging, born of a body-blow of pain, is captivating and highly literate. That he holds a B.A. in English Literature is very obvious and his early blogging belies every stereotype of the southern good old boy that ever was. Here, he laments his lack of readership. What a difference a year makes and rightly so.

Charles’ pre-9/11 work is that of a cycling/web design geek aficionado and that of a professional guitarist. It’s fun to read, even though much of it is in code-speak. (However, there’s even an early hint of things to come.) The border in his blogging—and his traffic—lies at September 10, 2001. After that, it’s all uphill.

Dean’s work includes a lot of interesting musings on race and religion, including a fascinating (and eyeball-roll inducing) conversation on “the brights.” (Sorry, Dean.) :-P

(And I’d love to drop a link on Stephen’s archived stuff, but I can’t find it on his page! However, he needs no touting from me.)

For those of you who may think I’m boot-licking the blogosphere dieties, I’ll say this as nicely as possible: bite me. These gentlemen linked to me early on, without me sending tons of e-mail reminders or anything. All I had to do was add my site URL to my comments posts in Rob’s and Charles’ cases. As for Misters Green and Esmay, they came, the read, they liked, they linked.

I just want them and you to know that this stuff isn’t easy, but it has been made far easier by these guys. They were doing the grunt work, so that we baby bloggers don’t have to.

(Portrait of "Purple, Siren, Patou and Earl" Bouvier des Flandres by Robin Renton)

Still Generally Speaking

Using another bloggers opinion to back up one’s own view or to dispute another’s view is a fool-hardy thing to do at best. However, while researching info on Wesley Clark, I used one item of this blogger’s source material, the International Herald Tribune--the blog link was provided by one of my commenters.

The IHT is presumably laden with some verifiable information that I can use to continue developing my own opinion about General Clark's character.

From the article:

What really happened, the U.S. officials said, was that the White House and top NATO military commanders in Europe framed two plans for swift military action once the Russian column was detected leaving its position and heading toward Kosovo.[snip]

Initially, as the Russian column moved through Serbia, the U.S.-backed plan called for a mobile spearhead of NATO troops to make the 40-kilometer (25-mile) dash to Pristina first and cut the access roads to the airport before the Russians could get there.

Later on June 11 the Clinton administration's security team, along with the two top U.S. commanders in NATO, backed a bolder but still small-scale operation, essentially a helicopter-led landing by a NATO task force at Pristina airport before the Russians there could settle in.

As we know now, neither option was taken due to many differing accounts of what went on between the two commanders and their superiors. Outsiders’ interpretations of this incident can differ, even when all use the acceptable forms of critical analysis. And, as the IHT cites nebulous “US officials” and the like, the veracity of events is open to even more speculation. Determining whether nothing would have happened or whether “World War III” [sic] would have ensued is an even bigger crap shoot.

Now, as boloboffin, one of my commenters in the previous Clark post, points out using information from a Jane’s link provided, Russian soldiers weren’t exactly flush in the logistics department back then--and likely not now. However, what he forgets is this: Russia had—and still has—weapons that don’t require feeding, uniforms or water. One presumes that General Jackson didn’t forget that, either. Also, it is even more fool-hardy to rely on reasonable actions and reactions from the leaders of what used to be the Советский Союз, especially if the present head-of state is any indication.

In short, however, who knows who know who might have tried to blow up da owl? Call it a toss-up. I concede that General Clark may not be a hot-head. One still wonders, however, in light of other reports about his behavior, what kind of person--what kind of leader--the good general is. Are all these stories giving a false picture of this potential POTUS? Or the true one? We will definitely see.

NOTE: Just so there’s no doubt about it, then-NATO peacekeeping force commander, General Sir Michael Jackson of Britain apparently did apparently rip into then-NATO supreme commander General Wesley Clark back in 1999 over the Pristina Airport incident. From an LA Times commentary by Paul Richter(registration required):

Clark ordered British Lt. Gen. Sir Michael Jackson to block the runway so the Russians couldn't bring in reinforcements. The British general refused, telling Clark: "I'm not starting World War III for you," Clark said in his 2001 book, "Waging Modern War."

(Thanks to Antidotal and boloboffin)

Heinlein Quiz

My results:

You belong in the Cat Who Walks Through Walls. You
are creative and cunning. Your works often
feel empty to you, though others love them.
You suspect that the universe and everyone in
it are just characters in someone else's story.

Could be.

Which Heinlein Book Should You Have Been A Character In?
brought to you by Quizilla

(Thanks to Michael Bowen and Rosemary Esmay)

General No Principles

Through his entry into the 2004 presidential race on the Democrat side, retired Army General Wesley Clark foiled my plan to refer to the other nine Democrat candidates as the Nazgûl.

I had been putting off talking about nine wraiths Democrat candidates for three reasons: 1) I won’t be voting for any of them, 2) we’re up to our eyeballs in stories and opinions about them in all forms of media, and 3) with the possible exception of Senator Joseph Lieberman, all of them just seemed too ridiculous to waste too much time over.

However, then there were ten. General Clark’s candidacy garnered my interest for one reason: a Democrat general is harder to find than a Republican black chick. So I decided to do a little Internet research on the good general.

State of Chaos: the Movie

As all meteorologists know and as we who had been paying attention to Isabel have been reminded, in the eye of a hurricane, everything is sunny, calm and bright. Those observing the storm from the outside, however, see the wind, rain and the looming destruction.

Have we Californians turned a blind eye to our state’s craziness so long that when a fiasco like the up-coming (?) gubernatorial recall twists into our midst we just shrug our shoulders and say “whatever?”

I had found myself doing that and I’ve had to shake myself awake.

Though I’m a Republican, I had decided that the recall wasn’t such a good idea. Too much feces would hit the fan, I thought. Call it a hunch. And as it turns out, it was an accurate one.

The turns of events in this out-of-control train, called a recall, has all the makings of an oft-rejected Hollywood script, appropriately enough. Consider its main cast of characters. These folks and their antics are enough to make the rest of the nation secede from the Golden State.

Dramatis Personae

• The leftist incompetent governor, who, in response to being recalled, puts the entire country at risk by
allowing illegal aliens to obtain driver’s licenses

• The inexperienced RINO candidate/world-renowned actor married into the most famous Democrat family
in American history

• The true Republican/chronic also-ran

• To the left of governor, the lieutenant governor, possibly with questionable racial attitudes

• And, in a special guest starring role, the Ninth US Circuit Court of Appeals

As is appropriate to a second-rate drama, this one has improbable plot twists.

• The Lt. Governor reportedly hates the Governor and the feeling is mutual.

• The RINO, a naturalized American citizen, may have committed some visa violations before obtaining his citizenship.

• The Ninth Court (three-judge panel), postpones the recall vote, likely disenfranchising 40,000 voters*
who have already sent in their absentee ballots (shades of Florida 2000).** The panel claims that the
long-used punch card ballots, located mainly in majority black and latino communities, are suddenly too
difficult to use. Overheard in the Ninth’s chambers: “dang dem darkies is dumb!”

Even Showtime and HBO wouldn’t touch such a poorly crafted piece of work.

So what might this C movie's title be?

Bananas Republic?

Altered State?

Scent of a Cluster-F***?

No, wait. I have the perfect title for this straight-to-video waste of celluloid.

California Reamin’

UPDATE: Another even better title: Ninth Circuit of Hell

*Er, 400,000 voters; now close to 615,000, according to the Washington Post.

** Today, the Ninth’s eleven-judge panel voted to review the three-judge panel’s decision to postpone the recall.

I'll Have What He's Having

Now we know what happen to California's money: the Ferengi beat Gray Davis out of it. From USA Today:

LOS ANGELES -- Gov. Gray Davis has officially validated the view in parts of the USA that the Golden State is far-out.

Meeting Sacramento voters late Wednesday, Davis praised California's diversity: ''We have people from every planet on Earth in this state. We have the sons and daughters of every -- of people from every planet -- of every country on Earth.''

Of Prodigals and Daughters

I had a nice lunch today with my 6 feet, 4 inch, dreadlocked “little” brother. He’s my stepbrother, but with us both being children of divorce, the prefix “step” is only used for explanation purposes. His (our) dad has been married to my (our) mom for thirty years.

We haven’t been very close over the years, mostly due to my being away from home and due to the different paths we each had taken in life—he’s spent some time “away from home” as well. Nothing violent or horrifying, but his waywardness had angered me for a long time. One might understand why I am as hardcore as I am about chronic lawlessness.

I was ticked at him for a while. He’s not stupid, nor poor, nor fatherless. He just wanted to do wrong and he admits as much. The good thing about him is that he blames no one but himself for his misdeeds.

For the “good” child, watching one’s misbehaving sibling taking up the time and resources of one’s hard-working parents builds a lot of resentment. I had told my parents to “let him swing” after he messed up over and over again. They finally listened. He would either make a hard u-turn or he would end up in prison for a long stretch. Or dead.

Due to a lot of prayer and to his own self-determination, Little Brother still here and is upright. What finally got to him is what should get to all bad actors: he became a father. Additionally, his daughter was born several years ago while he was “away from home.” My niece means the world to him and he takes his responsibility seriously. Real estate and construction are now his forte (and he’s been pretty successful at it); he decided that other areas of salesmanship just weren't his cup of tea.

******

Much is made of how the absence of a father can harm a boy’s life. However, I see everyday just how adversely the lives of girls are effected due to this lack.

Being the father of a girl, I hope my brother realizes how his abilities as a father will influence her later attitudes toward men. For her, he is the hero and the protector and, often, the sterner disciplinarian. Without him, or through his indifference (or abuse), she will likely grow up to believe that most men are weak and/or untrustworthy. She may even grow up to believe that she doesn’t need men at all.

So the next time you hear a woman cutting down all men, ask yourself where her father is and what he’s done for--or to--her. Ask yourself whether she even knows who he is. And, if you’re really brave, ask her. The answer might not be a surprise.

Coming Up

Family, old people, military evaluations. Really interesting stuff. Really!

In the meantime, real life intrudes.

In the Path of Isabel

Just a note to my friends on the east coast about to get hit by Isabel: be safe; especially you, Marty.

What's Eating Others

A lot of interesting stuff out there.

There’s an interesting discussion about evolving racial attitudes going on at Dean's World.

King of Fools compares the Old Testament kingdom of Molech to a certain religion that’s all the rage at present (pun intended).

Steve at Absit Invidia comments on the latest insult to minorities offered by the Ninth US Circuit Court of Appeals

Venomous Kate gives some sound advice for us new bloggers.

And Black Glenn takes issue with Venomous Kate’s blogging advice.

Suspect in Price Murder is White Crip

The suspected killer of Yetunde Price, older sister of Venus and Serena Williams is white. Does this negate everything I said in “Enough of This?” No. However it does put an interesting spin on things, if Aaron Michael Hammer did kill Price. From the Los Angeles Times (registration required):

Hammer, who according to court records has a string of burglary convictions, was one of six people detained at the homicide scene. He is one of only a few white members of the predominantly black Southside Crips, one of Compton's most notorious gangs, law enforcement sources said. [SNIP]

[Hammer’s uncle, Dale] Nelson said Hammer grew up in Compton, a mixed African American and Latino city, and had always struggled for acceptance.

White kid grows up in Compton and wants to be accepted. To do this, he joins a notorious, predominately black gang. What does that gang specialize in? Dealing drugs and killing black folks.

Wrap your mind around that one, folks. I’m trying to and I think I’m in need of an aspirin.

Happy Post...Sort Of

I’ve noticed that I’ve posted several downers in a row. Call it the post-9/11 rant syndrome. If only bad stuff would just stop happening...

Sure I notice the fun and funny stuff around me. I snicker (and barf) at the Britney Spears/Madonna spectacle and chuckle with Schadenfreude at poor jilted Jennifer Lopez’ woes (and feel a little guilty for laughing as well). Hey, girlfriend, I’ve been there!

But with all of the mayhem going on around us, it’s difficult to talk—to blog--about the good things in life. Blogging, by its very nature, is a means of constructively getting out the things that have been lingering inside, at least for me. Most of what’s held inside me consists of anger and frustration at things I see in the news and in every day life. Such things are not allowed out for display in polite company. You get told that you “like to argue” or you’re “too angry” or “no wonder you’re divorced.” If I’m not angry already, I am after that type of “constructive” criticism.

So, in real life, when someone says something totally stupid like “it’s good that the Ninth US Circuit Court of Appeals postponed the recall vote,” I don’t ask them why they think that, nor do I point out that the punch card ballots have been used here in CA since long before I began voting.

I simply flash a beatific smile, say, “right,” and change the subject. I’ve got that bogus smile thing down pat.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to give a list of all the things that make life good. You know what they are (hopefully). I do as well and they go well appreciated around here.

I submit that part of being happy is to be able to release those things that frustrate you; to vent the dreaded anger; to articulate the whys and wherefores of your wrath.

Then you can go out into the real world and flash a genuine smile—at least until the next person or event gets you wound up.

Then you come back home, blog, and start the cycle over again.

Enough of This

Michael Jordan couldn’t stop it from happening to his father, James, and former LAPD Chief Bernard Parks couldn’t stop it from happening to his granddaughter, Lori Gonzalez. (That the latter’s grandfather was the chief of police in LA at the time of her murder is one of the cruelest, sickest jokes of all.)

Now professional tennis superstars Venus and Serena Williams get the same horrifying lesson in the murder of their older sister, Yetunde Price.

Fame and fortune could not assist these well-known black American citizens in protecting their families from the reaper that plagues the communities of the average black American: We are being murdered, mostly by those who claim to be our brothers.

Gunning for the Guns

So I’m tooling around town, wondering what to write about after reading yesterday’s emotional and encouraging memorials to the fallen. I should have known that the Democrats wouldn’t let me down. They just can’t seem to help it. From the Kansas City Star:

JEFFERSON CITY - Gun-rights supporters treated Maj. Jon Dolan like a returning war hero Thursday as the state senator cast a critical vote to override a veto of concealed-weapons legislation.
But Democrats said Dolan, a Lake St. Louis Republican, had gotten special treatment in getting six days of leave from his post in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and that he had flouted military rules by acting as a politician while on active duty. [Note: Major Dolan is in the Army National Guard]

Weapons control, military regulations, and political game-playing (redundant?) all in one big package. Perfect.

Every time I read about some moron or set of morons spouting off about some breach of military rules and regulations, my flags go up, especially in the wake of the ignorant assumptions and accusations made regarding George W. Bush’s Air National Guard service. My first question to hypothetically-existing moron: have you ever served in the military? Second question: do you know that the active duty rules regarding service, “leave,” and pay are different than those of the Reserves and the National Guard? If the answer to either is ‘no,’ then my advice is to do your homework or STFU.

They also said it was ironic Dolan would return on the second anniversary of Sept. 11, saying he should be at his post fighting terrorism.

Can you believe that crap?

Dolan said he had to ask for a special exception for leave only because it fell within the first 60 days of his assignment in Cuba. He said his commanding officers granted the leave after he showed them the Senate rule that states a member must be present to cast a vote.

[Adviser to Gov. Bob Holden (D), Roy] Temple pointed to federal law and military regulations that say an officer "may not hold, or exercise the functions of" a political office while on active duty. The rules apply to "a reserve officer serving on active duty under a call or order to active duty for a period in excess of 270 days."

Because Dolan was called up Aug. 8, and because his orders say his service is not to exceed 365 days, he falls under the requirement, Temple said.

But Dolan said he had asked multiple attorneys about the issue, including one with the Army. The attorneys told him that, because he has not yet served 270 days of his tour, the rule does not apply to him.
"My interpretation is that rule does not apply to me until the 271st day of duty," he said.

The interpretation is arguable. However, his orders have the caveat “not to exceed 365 days.” This does not mean that Major Dolan actually has to serve 365 days. It is very conceivable that Maj. Dolan might not have to serve past the 270th day or even close to it. Reserve/National Guard call-ups to active duty get cut short all the time.

Temple also said Dolan's claim that he received no special treatment to get leave was not credible.

"I think there are hundreds of thousands of men and women serving in the United States armed services now who would love to have the opportunity to come home for the birth of their children or to attend the funerals of friends and family," Temple said.

Such a decision is up to a given commander. If a commander can spare one of his/her troops in such a situation, a commander has the discretion to allow leave. For any military member in a war zone, forget it. For a Public Affairs officer at a state-side prison camp, like Major Dolan, the odds are considerably better. It all depends on whether the given mission can be accomplished in a specific time period in that member’s absence.

"There's always exceptions to policy," [Department of Defense press officer Navy Lt. Cmdr. Barbara] Burfeind said. "Major Dolan was granted an exception to policy based on they had enough staffing that they could let him go for six days. His special circumstances were taken into account."

Considering that staffing was sufficient, that Major Dolan isn’t stationed in a war zone and that the 270 day rule wasn’t yet in effect, I can’t see how this situation was an “exception to policy.”

Of course, all the bovine excrement about “military regulations” and “special treatment” is merely a smokescreen. The gun-control advocates in the Missouri state senate are just ticked off that the major came back to ruin their plans. I’m sure all the crooks in Missouri are ticked off at Major Dolan as well. Doesn’t he know that he’s endangering their livelihoods?

Still Standing...

...if only in our memories.

Fear Itself

UPDATE (9/11/2010): Re-posted via Amplify.com.

UPDATE (9/11/2007): All you folks looking for pictures of the dead bodies of 9/11 victims will be sadly disappointed. Now, unless you want to read something about fear and the nature of terrorists, I'd suggest that you move along. There's nothing to see here.

In Esquire , in a moving and draining article on the “Falling Man,” the subject of an iconic photo of one of those who jumped from the burning World Trade Center Towers on September 11, 2001, Tom Junod ponders the merits and morality of showing the more graphic images resulting from the attack.

Most decent people, understandably, don’t want to see such images, nor do they want them thrust before them constantly in the televised or print media. I’m one of them, to a point.

Junod recounts Peter Cheney’s attempts to identify the “Falling Man,” who is believed to have jumped from the restaurant Windows on the World in Tower One. The man was dark-skinned, thought to be a Puerto Rican, an Indian or a light-skinned black man and Junod tells of the anguish of several families who might have been that of the jumper. Of course, none of the families wants it to be their guy and some of Cheney’s bull-in-china-shop methods used to learn the man’s identity are disgusting.

But for all of the horror and grief at their loved ones’ deaths, for all the Christian anguish for the souls of their loved ones—would God view such an act as suicide?—I sensed a different kind of anguish. It emanates not only from the families, but from the media and, yes, indeed from all of us. No, not the fear of the pain the victims must have suffered, but the fear that the terrorists may inflict even more suffering.

Could fear be the root of exhortation to “move on?” Will “moving on” help us to forget the stuff of nightmares, the images that the American media (correctly) won’t show; the imaginings of burned bodies, crushed bodies, parts of bodies, bodies that are no longer bodies, but dust?

Terrorists commit their acts not for the benefit of the dead, but for those who remain alive. “Look at what we’ll do to you and yours,” they say, “if you don’t do what we want you to do.” They revel in our horror. They rejoice in the sorrow of the families who will never bury the atomized bodies of their loved ones. They say, “yeah, we did it and we’ll do it to you unless you….submit.”

Does anyone remember the story of Emmett Till? Several years before I was born, Till, fourteen-years-old, was the victim of another set of terrorists. This young black man, not knowing or not caring about the ways of the South of that period, was murdered for allegedly making an indecent remark to a white woman.

He disappeared and, days later, his body, beaten and shot, was found in a river. The men who were tried for his murder were acquitted.

Emmett’s murder wasn’t an isolated case of a man supposedly defending the honor of his wife. As we know, all over the South, black men were being murdered for “stepping out of their place,” whether they actually had stepped out of their “place” or not. Those who committed these crimes did so not only for “revenge” on the dead, but to send a message to and strike fear in the living.

That’s what made it terrorism. Sound familiar?

In 2001 (and 1968 and 1979 and 1983 and 1988 and 1993 and 1998 and 2003 and every year in between), the players are different from that of 1955, but the message is the same: do what we want or this will happen to you or to those whom you love. In this case, it is “worship in the way we worship; bow five times a day to Mecca or else.”

I mention the Till case not to compare the two sets of terrorists, per se, but to compare the dissimilar reactions of the victims’ loved ones.

Mamie Till, Emmett’s mother, had an open-casket funeral for her son. The photo (warning: it's graphic) of the body, which astoundingly for any time, much less 1955, was published in Jet Magazine. The first time I saw the horrifying photo of young Till's mutilated head, I threw up. The head--monstrous from the beating, the bullet and the decomposition--contrasted against the normalcy of the casket and the suit that Mrs. Till had picked out for the body. It gave the picture that much more ugliness: your worst nightmare in banal black and white.

But Mamie Till’s steely words about the open-casket decision were electrifying: “I want the world to see what they did to my son.”

Well, the “world” did see and, though there was much more sorrow to be had--as it is with any major upheaval of a society--things changed. Some of us even think that things have changed for the better…such home-grown types of terrorists still exist, but when caught, they usually sit on death row rather sit at home having beers with their friends. We can send our message as well.

Though we should acknowledge and, sometimes, accede to the wishes of the bereaved families as far as the pictures of the 9/11 carnage are concerned, they should feel no shame at how their family member met his/her fate. (And my personal opinion is that God is a far more understanding Guy than we often give Him credit for.)

Most of all, neither they, nor we, can afford to let the horror of that day plunge us into fear. Why not?

That is what they want us to feel; that is the terrorists’ main goal.

Fear will keep us from acting boldly and decisively against them.

Our unabated fear, taken to its ultimate conclusion, would have us bowing down five times a day toward Mecca. Not me, baby. And, I'm comfortable in the assumption that a lot of Indians, Israelis and Americans feel the same way.

Message to terrorists: You Failed.

(Photos of Emmett Till courtesy of Stanford University and African American Holocaust)

Gone Away

Thirty-four more days until civilian status becomes a permanent conditon for me. In the meantime, I still have to occasionally report for duty, like today and tomorrow, for instance.

'Til Thursday.

California Cluster

A couple of days ago, I received my Official Sample Ballot for the finale in the California gubernatorial recall circus.

Besides all of the known clowns, here are some of the other candidates:

Brooke Adams (I), business executive (is that this Brooke Adams?)

Edward Kennedy (D), businessman/educator (isn’t this guy already screwing up some other state?)

Trek Thunder Kelly (I), business executive/artist (I just liked the name 'cause it's Trek)

Robert Dole (R), small business owner (I’m not kidding)

Ned Roscoe (L), cigarette retailer (Acidman's member is running and promises a cigarette after every…!)

Michael Jackson (R), satellite project manager (well that figures, the satellite part, I mean)

Since this recall thing came up, I’ve been torn as to what to do. Initially, I was happy that California Governor Gray Davis was getting what he deserved. However, he did win the regular election by whatever slim margin, and, in spite of the provision in the California Constitution for recalls, the whole thing has the smell of an attempt to overturn an election. I didn’t sign a petition.

But, many more Californians did and the recall is on. And after this and this, Davis deserves the boot. (Is he trying to get back at us for not wanting him? Is this like that scene in Waiting to Exhale when Angela Bassett's character sets fire to her cheating husband's possessions?)

Will I do my civic duty? You betcha. I just haven't figured out how yet.

Metzger Endorses Bustamante

This is just too good to be true. Or it’s a joke. Or it’s a stunningly devious reverse tactic designed to steer votes away from Bustamante to Schwarzenegger, the latter’s German name likely producing visions of a reborn Reich in Über-Aryan Tom Metzger’s pinhead. (Shhh!!! Don’t tell him Arnold likes Jews!!!)

Or maybe it can be taken at face value. According to the article, Tom Metzger is willing to bond—temporarily I assume—with any group that espouses separation of the races.

Metzger noted that he has met with other non-white racial separatist groups in the past including the Black Panthers and Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan.

I wonder if Bustamante will acknowledge the endorsement or repudiate it. What to do, what to do? If he repudiates it, critics will ask why he won’t repudiate the similarly-goaled MEChA as well. If he embraces it, all Hades will break loose just like it did when he mistakenly uttered the n-word…oh, never mind.

He’ll probably ignore it unless one of the major news agencies brings it to his attention. Figure the odds on that happening.

Remembrance Day Musings

Charles Johnson at Little Green Footballs and Michele at A Small Victory have both provided means for ordinary folks to tell their personal perceptions of the September 11, 2001 attacks. I told my story at LGF and here.

The Flag

That got me to thinking about a particular trend that occurred in the aftermath: American flags were everywhere all of a sudden.

Initially, I was heartened by the proliferation of American flags and flag stickers on cars. Every street vendor in LA had flags for sale. After something so vile, people began to see how much this country really meant to them and wanted to show it, or so I thought.

But as the months wore on, I noticed that some of the flags on the car antennas were becoming frayed—an anathema to a military member; torn and/or dirty flags are to be disposed of properly (last item)—and the stickers were fading due to weather.

The flag fad had faded. (Sorry for the alliteration.)

A year after the attacks, I decided that I wanted to buy a flag sticker for my car. Not a street vendor in sight had one. I did end up finding and buying one, at the Base Exchange, of course. But then I decided that my military sticker tells anyone all they needed to know about me.

Asshat Outs Himself

That day, watching the ABC News coverage of the attacks—no satellite then--I listened as Peter Jennings suddenly went into a petulant whine about the whereabouts of the president. Imagine the gall of President Bush! How dare he not send the esteemed Mr. Jennings an itinerary of Air Force One’s flight plan in the wake of the worst enemy attack on American soil! Who does the president think he is?

In disgust, I switched to NBC or CBS for the coverage (don’t remember which). From that day to this one, the sound of Jennings’ voice has had a rather bile-producing effect on me.

Love and No-Love for the Brother/Sisterhood

Since the day, my military compatriots and I regale each other with accounts of the spontaneous outpourings of gratitude we get from civilians. Believe me, it’s appreciated, folks, though, unlike this guy, the most dangerous thing that I’ve had to do since 9/11 is drive on Southern California freeways.

The love is especially cherished by those of us who were in the military when we routinely caught crap (see my account of being called the n-word while in uniform.)

In this vein, the worst crap that I’ve caught recently, was flung one morning at a Starbucks™ close to UC Riverside. The counter person, a young blond woman with hair nearly as short as mine, had a smile for everyone; everyone except for my BDU-clad self, that is. When I stepped to the counter to place my order, I noticed that her smile had changed to a rather sour expression. So, just to give her a little needle, I smiled and gave her a chipper “Good Morning!” loud enough to be sure that she heard it. (Take my word for it, a smile and a “good morning” are not easy to be had from me before my first cup of coffee, though I try to treat customer service personnel well.)

No answer. Heh. So, I placed my order--Venti soy mocha; no whip, please--she gave me the total and I paid her. I capped it off with an exaggerated “thank you! Have a nice day!” Still nothing from the little twit. Laughing, I turned around and, before I could make my way to the receiving counter, the man behind me, who obviously had seen the whole little drama, stuck out his hand, said, “thank you for your service,” and shot Ms. Personality a look of disgust.

I was floating the rest of the day.

Battle Log

Too many of us let it happen. I let it happen to me. By the beginning of this year, I had to face the fact: I was fat.

When I joined the Air Force in 1981, the powers-that-be in basic training warned me that, unless I gained some weight, I‘d be thrown out of training. At five feet and seven inches, I weighed a mere 103 pounds and the minimum weight limit for women my height was, yes, 103 pounds. By the end of the then six week training period, through exercise and eating like a hog—not a new behaviour for me—I had ballooned to a whopping 110 pounds; still a scrawny little creature.

Things change in twenty-two years. When I exited active duty in 1994, I had become a grown-up, pleasant 145 pounder, much of it muscle. I liked it. However, inattention took its toll. By February of this year, the round, muscular body had morphed into a flabby 180 pound one.

I never saw it coming. Soda and sweets weren’t the culprits, and, when I looked in the mirror face-on, I couldn’t see much of a difference.

Did you ever walk by a glass and look at yourself in profile? I did that and discovered that I grow fat from front to back, rather than sideways: I had a triple J-Lo booty and a Buddha stomach.

Even after a minor surgery to ease the pressure on my aching back, I still weighed 175. Well you know what? I was tired of being humongous. Three months ago, I started walking/running six days a week, got some results--down to 165--but not as fast as I would have liked.

So, three weeks ago, I started on a famous conditioning program, in which one does weight-training three days per week and cardiovascular training (the twenty minutes from Hell, I call it) on alternate days with one day of rest. I am loving it and am not too worried about weight—though I’m down to 157. The real results are the most promising: dropped two sizes, clothes bagging off, muscle definition and, best of all, people saying, “What are you doing? You look great.” I’m in it for the long haul and for the out-and-out vanity.

Mom’s Got It Goin’ On

A little competition can be helpful in such matters and publicly admitting to one of my baser instincts also allows me to tell a bit of my mom’s story.

My mother, who has always been a beautiful woman—I look like a female version of my father—had also let herself go and, at one time, had a good fifty pounds on the 180-pound version of me. Then her doctor discovered she had cancer. Thanks to God, a competent physician and early detection, the cancer hadn’t spread and the docs were able to get all of it. Mom had to go through the ordeal of radiation and chemo for six months, but she's done now and loving life all the more. As a result of this, she is now slim (5’ 8” and 155 pounds) and absolutely gorgeous. Sixty-one years old she is and has not a wrinkle anywhere; her short hair is still mostly dark.

During her recent visit, she was wearing the type of clothing I hadn’t seen her wear in twenty-five years: snug fitting Capri pants, sleeveless button-down blouses and—at the risk of giving too much information—nice underwear. (Those of us who have been overweight know that one of its indignities is having to buy underwear the size of pillow cases.) She has none of that baggy arm business than is the bane of many mature women; my mother flexes an arm and BOOM, up pops a bicep.

In a nutshell, my mother looks better than I do.

It’s great to have back the lady that my high school suitors would joke about throwing me over for. And, though I know my stepfather is glad to have the siren back as well, after the scare he’ll take her in whatever package she comes. So will I.

The Dahomean

On my Favorite Novels list, below on the left, there’s a book called The Dahomean, penned by the late Frank Yerby and published in 1971. I first read this novel as a teenager, picking it up in after both of my parents had finished with it. (They learned to watch the quality of reading material that they brought into the house, because, sooner or later, I would get around to reading it, whatever it was.)

The novel, set in the early 19th century, starts out with two white Maryland farmers heading home after they have purchased an African slave, whom they dub Wesley Parks--a corruption of his given name, Nyasanu Hwesu. The rest of the novel is set in the kingdom of Dahomey and is a chronicle of the life of the former free man.

It is simply one of the best novels I’ve ever read. It’s honest, forthright, unflinching, exciting, romantic and, ultimately, of course, tragic.

Yerby doesn’t sugarcoat the Dahomeans. They are products of their time and their rigid, ritualistic culture; they are believers in vudun (voodoo), polygamy, wife-inheritance, ritual slaughter and are frighteningly war-like. They are greedy, craven, lustful, stupid and vengeful. Dahomey’s rulers are particularly brutal.

They are also brilliant, kind, generous, tender, heroic and filled with love. Some also find particularly ingenious ways of circumventing the bounds of their inflexible culture and society.

In addition, it is made quite clear that Africans sold their brethren into the slavery that we now all deplore; to each other, to the Arabs, to the Europeans and to the Americans.

One of the main reasons that this novel has remained in my consciousness—besides its high quality--was that, outside of the short first chapter, it is the only novel that I know of that features indigenous Africans alone. I have no problems with such works as The Covenant, Out of Africa, I Dreamed of Africa or The Poisonwood Bible. I simply find it curious, that, since the publication of The Dahomean, there have been no major Western works, either in print or on screen, that portray a given African tribe/kingdom/nation in and of itself. (The Lord of the Rings trilogy is a contrasting example of this.)

Over the years, I have often thought that this novel should be made into a movie, but I wonder what the reaction would be. In this politically correct era, I doubt whether such a book could have been published by a major publishing house, much less adapted for the screen. (I suspect that, unless such a film were perfectly made, the fit would hit the shan; not only because of the Dahomeans' cultural practices, but also because of their unyielding scorn of homosexuality and homosexuals.) These Africans are depicted warts and all. In other words, they’re depicted as human.

The great Mr. Yerby put things much more eloquently than I, in his “Notes to the Reader,” at the front of his masterpiece:

The thoughtful reader will observe that the writer has not attempted to make the Dahomeans either more or less than what they were. He is aware that truth is an uncomfortable quality; that neither the racist, the liberal, nor the advocates of Black Power and/or Pride will find much support for their dearly held and perhaps, to them, emotionally and psychologically necessary myths herein.

So be it. Myths solve nothing, arrange nothing. But then, as the protagonist of this novel is driven in the end to put it, perhaps there are no viable solutions or arrangements in life for any of the desperate problems facing humanity in an all too hostile world.

If you can find it, buy it.

UPDATE: It appears that I have sent Mr. Yerby a posthumous birthday gift. He was born on September 5, 1916 in Augusta, GA. He died on November 29, 1991 in Madrid, Spain.

Representative of Some

After reading this story (third item) about US Representative Sheila Jackson Lee (D-TX), I had a curious reaction.

The first was along these lines: “Dang, that one is showing her butt again, first with the 1997 musings on the NASA missions to Mars (um..no, sis), then with the block long limousine rides, then with the suggestion that meteorologists give more “black” designations (second item) to hurricanes and now this.

“Doesn’t she know how bad she makes black people, and, specifically, black women look?”

That thought made me pause. As someone who believes that each person should be judged by Dr. King’s proverbial content of character, I had to ask myself why Ms. Jackson Lee’s chronic weird behavior bothered me so much. I didn’t have to go too far to flesh out my discomfort.

On a certain wildly famous website on which readers submit articles for assent, ridicule, etc., many referred to Ms. Jackson Lee and “uneducated,” “stupid,” and a “b-word” in response to this latest incident. Now, she may be one, any two or all three of these and if these reports about her are true, I’d have to pick the third option.

There’s just one little problem. The people that called Ms. Jackson Lee the above also saw fit to add the adjective ‘black’ or the noun ‘negro’ to their estimations of the woman’s character and intellect. Is this significant of anything?

Once, in a conversation on LGF, one of the site’s frequent contributors, who happens to be Jewish, mentioned a familiar phenomenon. She said that when she hears a news report of a human misbehavior, she always hopes that said human isn’t Jewish. Well, guess what? Every single time that some nitwit kills a bunch of people, rapes anyone, or just generally screws up, nearly every black person I know will say to self: “Please don’t let that fool be black.” (Too often, our hopes are in vain.)

So when a public figure who happens to be black repeatedly demonstrates that she is just really not that smart and really not that nice, black people cringe, even rugged individualists like yours truly. We do this because we know that there are still some who erroneously hold black people like Ms. Jackson Lee up as an example of our alleged across-the-board inferiority and incompetence.

We also do this because, unfortunately, it’s the Sheila Jackson Lees of this country that are elected Congress to represent their constituents and, therefore, are representative of those who voted her in.

Open request to Dr. Condoleezza Rice: please come home to Cali and run for office.

Who's My Daddy?

Why my BlogFather, of course. Don't we look alike?

Way Cool

So I happen to look at my stats and there’s this humongous spike in traffic. On my referrer’s page I saw the reason: many hits and a link from VodkaPundit. Thanks to the esteemed Stephen Green are definitely in order.

Guess I’d better get to bloggin’!

They've Got the Hook-up

The ever-helpful Ranger Quartermaster website has an interesting t-shirt available for purchase. Those who want to assist a jihadi or fifty in getting to know 72 foxy ladies intimately can advertise their intent by buying one.

(Thanks to Merde in France)

And Now For Something Completely Different

Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

“ I think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin.”

(Note: For those who haven’t read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, there may be a spoiler or two regarding the upcoming Return of the King. Fair warning and all that.)

Not meaning to usurp the province of my fellow Luo, established film critic Frank Ochieng (no relation; it’s a fairly common surname in Kenya), I’d like to submit a humble (hah!) review for Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. Now I realize that I’m on the late freight, having just seen it this weekend upon receiving the VHS and the DVD for my birthday, and I realize that there are likely a gazillion reviews of the film floating around the Internet, but, indulge me.

The Two Towers is a great movie for us fantasy fans. Having only discovered Tolkien’s trilogy since The Fellowship of the Ring came out, I feel as if I have a new toy. After the release of the first movie, I didn’t see it right away. Like any good geek, I like to do my homework, so I bought all of the books, including The Hobbit. (IMO, one cannot appreciate a movie made from a book without reading the book first.) I read all four of them in less than two months and recently started on The Silmarillion—though that one is slow going. You can’t love and appreciate what a character TFOTR’s Bilbo Baggins (Ian Holm) is unless you’ve read The Hobbit.

“Rohan is mine!”

As I said to Ith in a conversation about this movie, I appreciate a clear-cut story about good and evil. No “why do they hate us” BS in a Tolkien tome. Just get in there, get it done and kill them before they kill you. And get rid of that Ring already!

The Good:

•Théoden’s (Bernard Hill) exorcism: Watching Théoden’s face change from that of a dissipated old man to one of a mature, yet vital man was wonderful.
“Your leechcraft would have had me crawling around on all fours like a beast!” (I had to hear that line twice. That last word sounded like the other b-word on the first pass.)

•The Ents throw down: A girl from LA knows a good riot when she sees one.

Face acting:

• Legolas (Orlando Bloom) is ready to bust an arrow into Éomer (Karl Urban) when the latter mentions
cutting off Gimli’s (John Rhys-Davies) head. Legolas’ eyes say it all. “You would die before your
stroke fell!”

• More Legolas: His joy is obvious at seeing Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen) alive again and is nicely
punctuated by an off-hand remark. “You look terrible.”

• Aragorn: His still-disbelieving face and clenched teeth were great when the resurrected Gandalf (Ian McKellan) reveals himself to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli: “You fell!”

The Fugly:

•Gríma Wormtongue: Théoden had to be possessed to listen to anyone this hideous. When Gríma (Brad Dourif) makes his play for Éowyn (Miranda Otto), over her cousin Théodred’s (Paris Howe Strewe)deathbed, I almost hurled. When he pulled his hand back from her face, I half expected there to be a green slime mark left there. And a particular Gríma line to Éomer is relevant to today’s real-life events. “Can you not see? Your uncle is wearied by your malcontent, your war-mongering.” Take that, peaceniks; from fifty years ago! (Brad Dourif plays some great nutcases. I remember him from some episodes of Star Trek: Voyager, in which he plays a Betazoid who also happened to be a sociopathic killer. Trek fans will understand what a contradiction that is.)

•The Orcs: The two orcs that want to eat Merry (Dominic Monaghan) and Pippin (Billy Boyd) are two of the most hilarious critters to grace a fantasy film. When the orcs and the uruks make a late meal of the first orc, I had to put down my Labor Day BBQ, however. There’s a nice homage to the movie Deliverance when the second orc almost has Merry for dinner. “Call for help! Squeal! No one’s gonna save you now!”

•Smeagol/Gollum (based on Andy Serkis): Yikes! This pathetic special-effects creature stole the flick. He/it had the sort of attraction/repulsion feature that made you want to fast-forward through his scenes and, paradoxically, made you unable to do so. “Nice Hobbit!”

Speaking of Deliverance:

•The elf men, with the exception of Elrond (Hugo Weaving), are just too purty for words. Legolas and Haldir (Craig Parker) are prettier than Arwen (Liv Tyler). I like my guys more manly-looking, like Aragorn, (though, having seen Viggo Mortensen shaven, I’d have to say that some guys shouldn’t shave).

The Okay and the Nitpicks:

•Again with the dwarf-tossing: Gimli’s comic relief wasn't too annoying, but it kind of broke that fourth wall.

•Samwise’ (Sean Astin) British accent occasionally sounded like it came from the Southland (that’s Southern California to the uninitiated).

•Where da Spider at? Shelob, who was present at the end of the novel version, isn’t in the film version. I hope we get to see that lovely lady in Return of the King.

Thanks for reading.

(Cast info from the Internet Movie Database)

UPDATE: Quotes continuously corrected.