"Getting lost in your lover is your first mistake." -- Gordon Lightfoot
As a matter of prurient boredom with jackasses, (is that actually the case if the ignition isn't shutting off for a bleeding heart-- no I have no imagination towards Nick, he just fits the convenience of the definition) I have always, I mean always, disliked the word masterbation and horny. They are just ugly and stupid terms and wouldn't get me past Flynt's wing tips, finally having pissed, climaxed, wept for dead mothers, and it's not enough, dropping down into the echo chamber chasm. I was, then wasn't, going to poke at Woods in his incremental elevation as the replacement for Charlton Heston, and ask if he had read Jennifer Rubin's headline on poor Sarah Huckabee Sanders not knowing anything, as we debate the callous indelicacy of a hospice ready maverick who couldn't break out of a Viet Cong prison. What did I post at the beginning of my own interment last fall? But because I post as I do, and AccessLife, which was professionally run, went belly up, no one cares. Meghan, get your naval superdaddy off the soapbox already, please. People need to learn when to relinquish. Forget Trumpian new lows. Is it beneficial for the public to watch notable personalities dying on camera? Roger Ebert. Christopher Hitchens in a blurb spot on Rose made us appreciate "there but the grace of god" as his larynx turned him into a conehead, and now McCain suddenly has sensitivities despite his crapshoot debate with Obama in 2008. Oh, the health of the mother. His mannerisms and impatience handed the presidency over to our boy wonder Barack, always in search of, as I hate to get ugly, but grow weary of nigger love in its caramelized version. He keeps running a treadmill called make the spastic love herself. I thought that's what popping the cherry was for. All press secretaries spin the bottle.
Showing posts with label jennifer rubin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jennifer rubin. Show all posts
Sunday, May 13, 2018
Friday, March 23, 2018
Permanent Lacunae
This is one of Trump's most underappreciated political achievements of the year: consolidation of power over a party to which he had scant personal or institutional ties. -- Matthew Yglesias, Vox
The reason I do not remember Titus Welliver as the "man in black" on Lost is because the dowager allowed her following of the show to lapse in the second season, which can be taken as a veiled critique of a complex mystery which made too many demands on its viewers, not that I am denying the show was a radical innovation; thinking about it over the last couple days, I was surprised by how much I had forgotten about it, the real time back stories and their tie ins to the unexplained occurrences. Excluding my ignorance over how good or bad Abrams work was on the lost youth of Star Trek. I ten to believe JJ cannibalized his own capital due to overreach. His writers deployed some of Lost's tactics in Revolution, and it felt anemic, and Once Upon A Time downgraded itself to a fourth grade series of correspondences. I've posted before that Lost's escapism from the impairments of biological reality was a coping mechanism pertinent, if not entirely beneficial, to the diseased and the lame, however quaint or charming you'd like to make it, while Jennifer Rubin claims Trump is destroying democracy and my friend Nick wonders, almost simultaneously, if Trump is killing the libertarian movement. Personally, I think Zuckerberg has destroyed history, freedom of thought, and that this lands on Facebook's desk, so Mark should be jailed, tried for crimes against humanity, and his dwindling assets, 30 billion in losses at last count, should be distributed to poor stricken scholars on the comparative basis of measuring IQ against limited resources.
Years ago, I promised you I would put a Lost reviewing on my to-do list, and I apologize that it has only made it to a watch list which might as well be the fountain of youth. It isn't simply a matter of paying Prime for what I once got for free. I balk at going back into the puzzle, because I know there were threads left unanswered, and tend to believe Abrams success is a reflection of a post traumatic terrorism flux from which we cannot break free. I also told you, years ago, that I started a novel in 1989 strikingly similar to the idea of Lost, real world characters vanishing to an island plagued by never ending insurgency. I shortened the title to Don Paydola, a bit wonky. Gretchen Laskas read part of it and claimed I was a writer's writer, the parts of it I actually typed to hard drive still temporarily locked into an office 7 .wps extension. I overreached with the ambition of that concept too. We'll see if I ever finish it, and stop worrying about my resentment that a Jewish television producer got quixotic. I really don't understand why we exaggerate the forces at play. Everyone drops an egg because Facebook harnesses a sixth of the global population, while on an individual basis, none of us take it that seriously. Trump is a vulgar carnival barker, but he tapped into the little guy. The left thinks this is a suicide pact, and the right is rife with factionalism, but we'll live. John Bolton is a known element.
Years ago, I promised you I would put a Lost reviewing on my to-do list, and I apologize that it has only made it to a watch list which might as well be the fountain of youth. It isn't simply a matter of paying Prime for what I once got for free. I balk at going back into the puzzle, because I know there were threads left unanswered, and tend to believe Abrams success is a reflection of a post traumatic terrorism flux from which we cannot break free. I also told you, years ago, that I started a novel in 1989 strikingly similar to the idea of Lost, real world characters vanishing to an island plagued by never ending insurgency. I shortened the title to Don Paydola, a bit wonky. Gretchen Laskas read part of it and claimed I was a writer's writer, the parts of it I actually typed to hard drive still temporarily locked into an office 7 .wps extension. I overreached with the ambition of that concept too. We'll see if I ever finish it, and stop worrying about my resentment that a Jewish television producer got quixotic. I really don't understand why we exaggerate the forces at play. Everyone drops an egg because Facebook harnesses a sixth of the global population, while on an individual basis, none of us take it that seriously. Trump is a vulgar carnival barker, but he tapped into the little guy. The left thinks this is a suicide pact, and the right is rife with factionalism, but we'll live. John Bolton is a known element.
Wednesday, September 6, 2017
Irma's Vagaries In the Ligaments
She tried to make them fly.-- the author
When the dowager was parked at her Widener University desk, much as she is now, in a more dilapidated fashion, still sitting at Tom Reid's fob off hand painted excuse of a desk which should have been traded in long ago, she pounded out an angry story about a home invasion with a female victim who turned the tables on her attacker. The exact date of the story's creation is beyond memory, though it must have been in my later semesters, around 1985. It is a revenge fantasy, far more violent than the home invasion I defeated-- and that defeat really hinged on Brandon's conscience. It is difficult for me to type his name, but as I have always been a deft reader of character, he was as much afraid of what he was doing as I was in fear of my life, and this, really, aside from not being desperate enough to use an old Everest & Jennings power chair, motor pulley threaded to the back wheel with a rubber trim. I do not have the exact term for it, but it was designed much like a bicycle chain links the pedal rotary to the back tire. I was afraid, if I had tried to hurt him, that he'd topple me over or worse. Once he dragged me to my bedroom, Oliver following, that was a trigger. I fought, screamed, won, and in fact, I was screaming with such ferocity I did not realize I was the victor. My rapid, brutal little piece was never meant to anticipate my rather languorous spiral of a brutal womanhood.
During the blizzard of 1996, my landline phone rang in the dead of winter with a female editor asking if the piece was still available. 11 years, and I get a call in a blizzard, with no food in the kitchenette, to be queried by an editor of Blood & Flesh. She liked how I depicted violence against women, and then, in one of those quirks of literary endeavor, this same female editor postcarded that the team had decided to print its last issue and changed her mind, which has seemingly cursed this piece for life. I cannot get rid of it, and if I revise it to any substantial degree, then it becomes an old woman's makeover, as opposed to a university student's subconscious realization that she was a lifelong target of misogynist hatred. Writing it, strange as this may sound, was an interior mechanism to sublimate my undercurrent of hate for Jerry. I know this isn't fair, and the man saw something in me he encouraged to succeed, but my aggrandizement of his intellectual mania had a latent hostility attached to it, assigning blame to the blameless. It wasn't this unfortunate instructor's job to protect me from my mother's abuses--kill her lovers or my stepfather, just as my father, too, never stepped in to eliminate the heinous savagery embedded in my family history:
And if this is, psychologically, what I am searching for in Trump's belligerence, I suppose I am bound to be disappointed: I do agree with his critics that he has a propensity to diminish his supporters, like Priebus, and I have no idea why Sessions became a target of the mogul's ire. I do not track Sessions with the same avidity I have paid to other attorney generals, and cannot offer anything about his apparent retrenchment of Order, with capital O, but he had a reason to recuse himself from Probe Russia, which, at the end of the day, will be more or less reveal itself as dirty money, and big deal. I have been a good girl most of my life, but a Mexican lawyer and my building manager want my head on a platter because I am weary of institutional corruption corroding my soul with ferrous iron, but I really do not read some of El Presidente's twitter rhetoric the way Rubin or his other prominent detractors do, particularly when it comes to North Korea. The world cannot be held hostage by Kim Jong Un's diseased xenophobic maneuvers forever, even if war in the South Pacific will invariably be a game changer. We wouldn't be able to compartmentalize it as easily as Afghanistan, and depending on how it happens, if it happens, the health of many a body politic is at risk, while I calculate how to give notice as a form of sanity, teaching minorities a lesson about illegal collusion, at my expense.
When the dowager was parked at her Widener University desk, much as she is now, in a more dilapidated fashion, still sitting at Tom Reid's fob off hand painted excuse of a desk which should have been traded in long ago, she pounded out an angry story about a home invasion with a female victim who turned the tables on her attacker. The exact date of the story's creation is beyond memory, though it must have been in my later semesters, around 1985. It is a revenge fantasy, far more violent than the home invasion I defeated-- and that defeat really hinged on Brandon's conscience. It is difficult for me to type his name, but as I have always been a deft reader of character, he was as much afraid of what he was doing as I was in fear of my life, and this, really, aside from not being desperate enough to use an old Everest & Jennings power chair, motor pulley threaded to the back wheel with a rubber trim. I do not have the exact term for it, but it was designed much like a bicycle chain links the pedal rotary to the back tire. I was afraid, if I had tried to hurt him, that he'd topple me over or worse. Once he dragged me to my bedroom, Oliver following, that was a trigger. I fought, screamed, won, and in fact, I was screaming with such ferocity I did not realize I was the victor. My rapid, brutal little piece was never meant to anticipate my rather languorous spiral of a brutal womanhood.
During the blizzard of 1996, my landline phone rang in the dead of winter with a female editor asking if the piece was still available. 11 years, and I get a call in a blizzard, with no food in the kitchenette, to be queried by an editor of Blood & Flesh. She liked how I depicted violence against women, and then, in one of those quirks of literary endeavor, this same female editor postcarded that the team had decided to print its last issue and changed her mind, which has seemingly cursed this piece for life. I cannot get rid of it, and if I revise it to any substantial degree, then it becomes an old woman's makeover, as opposed to a university student's subconscious realization that she was a lifelong target of misogynist hatred. Writing it, strange as this may sound, was an interior mechanism to sublimate my undercurrent of hate for Jerry. I know this isn't fair, and the man saw something in me he encouraged to succeed, but my aggrandizement of his intellectual mania had a latent hostility attached to it, assigning blame to the blameless. It wasn't this unfortunate instructor's job to protect me from my mother's abuses--kill her lovers or my stepfather, just as my father, too, never stepped in to eliminate the heinous savagery embedded in my family history:
Opinion | Something is seriously off about this president https://t.co/iyFk6DEfta— Jennifer Rubin (@JRubinBlogger) September 4, 2017
And if this is, psychologically, what I am searching for in Trump's belligerence, I suppose I am bound to be disappointed: I do agree with his critics that he has a propensity to diminish his supporters, like Priebus, and I have no idea why Sessions became a target of the mogul's ire. I do not track Sessions with the same avidity I have paid to other attorney generals, and cannot offer anything about his apparent retrenchment of Order, with capital O, but he had a reason to recuse himself from Probe Russia, which, at the end of the day, will be more or less reveal itself as dirty money, and big deal. I have been a good girl most of my life, but a Mexican lawyer and my building manager want my head on a platter because I am weary of institutional corruption corroding my soul with ferrous iron, but I really do not read some of El Presidente's twitter rhetoric the way Rubin or his other prominent detractors do, particularly when it comes to North Korea. The world cannot be held hostage by Kim Jong Un's diseased xenophobic maneuvers forever, even if war in the South Pacific will invariably be a game changer. We wouldn't be able to compartmentalize it as easily as Afghanistan, and depending on how it happens, if it happens, the health of many a body politic is at risk, while I calculate how to give notice as a form of sanity, teaching minorities a lesson about illegal collusion, at my expense.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Jennifer Rubin, by acclimation?
When Donald Trump first started polling in with his support at 20%, I tweeted to his account, "you had to borrow money from your father for your casino," which in translation means the electorate supporting him doesn't look too closely at how Donald Trump makes a living. Hitherto this assessment, I've taken a rather mercurial pleasure in the stomach cramps he's given to the fourth estate, but this doesn't mean I think he's good for the country. Fareed Zakaria may admonish angry reactionism by asserting that Trump cannot restore the US to what it was, and may be right even if he is often too generic to take seriously. Jennifer is finally closing in on what the media should have been doing about Trump, which is to ask what the fuck has he done other than make contracts? Not much.
I've been reading Jennifer's output for awhile, a few years at least. She is cool to libertarian sentiment, which may mean she's sexually content; she's reasonably hardline, rightly remains suspicious of the ongoing "Iranian revolution," doesn't have any of the glaring demerits of the Clinton biography (Kenneth Starr's report). She's female. Her election would be historic. Wapo's power and street credibility would take a quantum leap. Post election headlines would scream for days: Disability Journalist drafts Jennifer Rubin campaign singlehandedly
And voila. The woman gives me a second tier cushy policy position, scolds me that addressing people with "fuck you!" is not a lead for how Julie Andrews vocalizes chords in The Sound of Music, and between Rubin, Merkel, and I, all our male colleagues wind up emasculated in terror, a new age of Pax Romana ensues before you even know what hit you.
Leers menacingly.
I've been reading Jennifer's output for awhile, a few years at least. She is cool to libertarian sentiment, which may mean she's sexually content; she's reasonably hardline, rightly remains suspicious of the ongoing "Iranian revolution," doesn't have any of the glaring demerits of the Clinton biography (Kenneth Starr's report). She's female. Her election would be historic. Wapo's power and street credibility would take a quantum leap. Post election headlines would scream for days: Disability Journalist drafts Jennifer Rubin campaign singlehandedly
And voila. The woman gives me a second tier cushy policy position, scolds me that addressing people with "fuck you!" is not a lead for how Julie Andrews vocalizes chords in The Sound of Music, and between Rubin, Merkel, and I, all our male colleagues wind up emasculated in terror, a new age of Pax Romana ensues before you even know what hit you.
Leers menacingly.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Humidity, Organic Plummer
Last week, Ms. Rubin castigated the GOP, presumably due to Trump's rise into the second tier, and I believe this is the link to her commentary:
I have little to opine on Trump's comments, even if the murder in San Francisco fueled them. Perhaps Twinkie city might want to rethink how it cooperates with our federale keystone cops in the future. With this concession in mind, Donald Trump is a shyster and a con artist, and militarizing the border with Mexico by aping Israel's concrete bunker mentality is not a solution to Latino population pressure to retake the Americas that those of European descent took with the horse and bayonet. But where I part company with Jennifer is on her chastisement toward moderation in conservative alarm. If Trump is successfully tapping in to Caucasian unease, it is precisely Caucasian unease for which I've taken my lumps on this account, and, while I cannot say that jingoism will destroy the GOP of Senator Toomey and John Boehner, the American left is out of its mind, and we'll see far worse than Trump in the future if progressives truly believe that erasure is going to create a Frank Capra utopia. The only reason I haven't signed up to join a movement like ISIL is because of the moderate severity of my symptoms due to the extent of my cerebral palsy, but this is no indicator of my lack of willingness to engage in insurrection against the US if I had the physical skill and ability to do so. This is how deep my anger runs, but I lack the requisite skills, and for all of his methodical ability, the DC sniper, who had the requisite skills, allowed himself to get caught rather than build a following.
Jennifer referenced conservative hysteria over the gay marriage ruling. I have no hysteria. We all knew that once states began recognizing same sex unions, those states that resisted would fall due to interstate commerce clauses. I am not against gay marriage. I am against homosexual practices being given equality with heterosexual intercourse and its ability to propagate the species. Forcibly erasing the genealogy of the past, to reference Foucault, whose sexual practices made him one of the earliest French sacrifices to AIDS, is worse than any reactionary crimes perpetuated in its name. As my digestive system is stressing, and I need to solve my bathing mobility over the weekend, we'll leave it there, but rest assured, I've been turning over stones in my wearied mind frame. Pansies are no doubt celebratory that I'm weakened to such an extent.
If the GOP does not want to be the Doesn’t Get It party, it better start acting like it respects all Americans. http://t.co/IjoZCYj5O4
— Jennifer Rubin (@JRubinBlogger) July 9, 2015
I have little to opine on Trump's comments, even if the murder in San Francisco fueled them. Perhaps Twinkie city might want to rethink how it cooperates with our federale keystone cops in the future. With this concession in mind, Donald Trump is a shyster and a con artist, and militarizing the border with Mexico by aping Israel's concrete bunker mentality is not a solution to Latino population pressure to retake the Americas that those of European descent took with the horse and bayonet. But where I part company with Jennifer is on her chastisement toward moderation in conservative alarm. If Trump is successfully tapping in to Caucasian unease, it is precisely Caucasian unease for which I've taken my lumps on this account, and, while I cannot say that jingoism will destroy the GOP of Senator Toomey and John Boehner, the American left is out of its mind, and we'll see far worse than Trump in the future if progressives truly believe that erasure is going to create a Frank Capra utopia. The only reason I haven't signed up to join a movement like ISIL is because of the moderate severity of my symptoms due to the extent of my cerebral palsy, but this is no indicator of my lack of willingness to engage in insurrection against the US if I had the physical skill and ability to do so. This is how deep my anger runs, but I lack the requisite skills, and for all of his methodical ability, the DC sniper, who had the requisite skills, allowed himself to get caught rather than build a following.
Jennifer referenced conservative hysteria over the gay marriage ruling. I have no hysteria. We all knew that once states began recognizing same sex unions, those states that resisted would fall due to interstate commerce clauses. I am not against gay marriage. I am against homosexual practices being given equality with heterosexual intercourse and its ability to propagate the species. Forcibly erasing the genealogy of the past, to reference Foucault, whose sexual practices made him one of the earliest French sacrifices to AIDS, is worse than any reactionary crimes perpetuated in its name. As my digestive system is stressing, and I need to solve my bathing mobility over the weekend, we'll leave it there, but rest assured, I've been turning over stones in my wearied mind frame. Pansies are no doubt celebratory that I'm weakened to such an extent.
Monday, January 12, 2015
White Chocolate
I am not sure why I responded to Jennifer's post. Read it once, trying to make sense of it, skimmed it again, and then responded with macro view impatience about our inability to be ruthless and efficient enough, but if we were that we would not have put Bales in prison, nor castigated servicemen who spoke out loud what we all believe, but remains a breach of manner to say: American and European lives are more valuable than certain Arabic African and some Asian groups. And Google would have banned me long ago for demonic ferocity, although there is a difference in the imagining of mobile savagery and the actual ability of my transfer skills, and I haven't attempted to strangle kimmy for being a stubborn female. The minute I sit up I am subjected to relentless head buts from this relegated feline whose litter could not be saved, and as such I am posting without freshly brewed Italian roast, always unwise, even if kimmy doesn't let up, leaping and dancing, chewing plastic because she wants greens, until, resolute, I sit still.
Islamic State is hard enough, which makes them both admirable and dishonorable. They killed the press on our home turf. I stayed my hand on Foley for being a fool, going into the chaos of Syrian fractures, but killing journalists on the home front, then going after the Jews who remained on European soil, remained French-- there is no honor in this kind of attack, even if Islamic State would argue they are doing what WW2 Zionists did. The Zionists in the aftermath of the Third Reich had a reasonably zealous agenda in the face of a mechanized banal slaughter humans had never seen before, lacking the technical capacity. I don't think recreating a modern Israeli state worked, but comprehend it as a mission statement.
Extremists want a Caliphate? Afghanistan is already a prime example of homo sapiens devolution.
Karina pinged to ask how I was; you could wag a finger: See, you fired her and said she was stupid and she has remained kind. Yes, but I gave her about 300 I wouldn't have given a person of color. The kindness I miss is my childhood physical therapy aide. Mary Anne. She let me sleep over, taught me about scoliosis, which she had, not visibly, and prepared me for confirmation, an innocent attachment to a child vanquished by tunnel visions of loss too difficult to absorb. I don't know what went through her head day after day, watching me tortured in leg braces, locked into a standing table, mailing letters with Eisenhower's bust as an imprint on ten cent stamps. Lesbianism wasn't even a concept, though she was a Catholic woman of the 70's, floral blouses and an auburn beatles bob for a hairstyle.
I need my coffee now.
Islamic State is hard enough, which makes them both admirable and dishonorable. They killed the press on our home turf. I stayed my hand on Foley for being a fool, going into the chaos of Syrian fractures, but killing journalists on the home front, then going after the Jews who remained on European soil, remained French-- there is no honor in this kind of attack, even if Islamic State would argue they are doing what WW2 Zionists did. The Zionists in the aftermath of the Third Reich had a reasonably zealous agenda in the face of a mechanized banal slaughter humans had never seen before, lacking the technical capacity. I don't think recreating a modern Israeli state worked, but comprehend it as a mission statement.
Extremists want a Caliphate? Afghanistan is already a prime example of homo sapiens devolution.
Karina pinged to ask how I was; you could wag a finger: See, you fired her and said she was stupid and she has remained kind. Yes, but I gave her about 300 I wouldn't have given a person of color. The kindness I miss is my childhood physical therapy aide. Mary Anne. She let me sleep over, taught me about scoliosis, which she had, not visibly, and prepared me for confirmation, an innocent attachment to a child vanquished by tunnel visions of loss too difficult to absorb. I don't know what went through her head day after day, watching me tortured in leg braces, locked into a standing table, mailing letters with Eisenhower's bust as an imprint on ten cent stamps. Lesbianism wasn't even a concept, though she was a Catholic woman of the 70's, floral blouses and an auburn beatles bob for a hairstyle.
I need my coffee now.
Grendel's Ram in Contention
"The old ram stands down looking over rockslides, stupidly."-- John Gardner, Grendel, p2
What Jennifer argues in her latest Right Turn entry, whose headline was changed, I believe, from the more inflammatory "France goes to war," to the lower decibel of "fallout," since Hollande is a Socialist in the tradition of Mitterrand, and no doubt had the Foreign Secretary call the Grahams who remain on staff with a scold, is that the neocon response to bin Laden's "great blow" was the right tack, despite the fact that thirteen years in Kabul seems to have simply degraded the Taliban into more traditional narco terrorists with whom the CIA loves to waltz, which is not very hawkish. I do not necessarily disagree with Jennifer or The Post on Obama's retrenchment after Bush Administration debacles. My argument is that delicacy to Islamic sensitivity, and Western effeminate dress after centuries of civilizing the natives at the point of a bayonet, is not going to pacify hardliners who supersede Hammurabi, who purportedly was source text for Mosaic law.
I am always against bad process, and the invasion of Iraq in 2003 should have led to George W Bush's impeachment, regardless of how well or how badly the Pentagon handled the draw down under our sadly failed Harvard Law president. We cannot occupy multiple fronts indefinitely, even if we are the strongest nuclear power. Americans were once and briefly united after the 9/11 attacks, and if you want tradition, well, successful war presidents unite the country. Congress should have declared war on Al Qaeda. The UN Security Council should have made a deal with the major powers, dissolved Pakistan, Afghanistan, Sudan, Yemen, Somalia. set up zones of occupation, and if those with the tactical force had the guts to do that, whatever the price of going that route, we would not be watching North Africa and the Far East join the long standing enemies of Israel in an implosion.
This all started in 79 with Khomeini and his Iranian revolution. The Ayatollah broadcast his Persian call to arms from Paris, and world leaders held their dicks in their hands, to channel old man Morgan, while the fanatical Imam toppled the Shah. Jimmy might have saved the fellow citizens he served some dignity by exporting Billy Carter as an American radical. The Saudis did the same thing prior to Osama's rise in prominence and bear some of the blame for contemporary tremors.
Jennifer cites John Yoo, attempting to rehabilitate a rationalizing legal hardliner, by having him universalize NATO's Article 5. I doubt this makes Hollande happy. I watched extensive press coverage of the neutralization of the Kouachi brothers and their associate, and then Hollande's entry and subsequent gathering of ministers in the Presidential Palace. The informality of the European bureaucrat anesthetizes sensibility, and briefly entertained the idea of sending Marine Le Pen my resume. Perhaps I should do it on a lark. Why didn't Turkish authorities detain Boumeddiene? The corruption of ionized interests will always be with us, but this too, smells of bad faith.
In essence, Jennifer's urgency for the Obama Administration to reignite Bush's battle lines is misguided, because war takes commitment, national unity. We lost that after Truman fired MacArthur.
What Jennifer argues in her latest Right Turn entry, whose headline was changed, I believe, from the more inflammatory "France goes to war," to the lower decibel of "fallout," since Hollande is a Socialist in the tradition of Mitterrand, and no doubt had the Foreign Secretary call the Grahams who remain on staff with a scold, is that the neocon response to bin Laden's "great blow" was the right tack, despite the fact that thirteen years in Kabul seems to have simply degraded the Taliban into more traditional narco terrorists with whom the CIA loves to waltz, which is not very hawkish. I do not necessarily disagree with Jennifer or The Post on Obama's retrenchment after Bush Administration debacles. My argument is that delicacy to Islamic sensitivity, and Western effeminate dress after centuries of civilizing the natives at the point of a bayonet, is not going to pacify hardliners who supersede Hammurabi, who purportedly was source text for Mosaic law.
I am always against bad process, and the invasion of Iraq in 2003 should have led to George W Bush's impeachment, regardless of how well or how badly the Pentagon handled the draw down under our sadly failed Harvard Law president. We cannot occupy multiple fronts indefinitely, even if we are the strongest nuclear power. Americans were once and briefly united after the 9/11 attacks, and if you want tradition, well, successful war presidents unite the country. Congress should have declared war on Al Qaeda. The UN Security Council should have made a deal with the major powers, dissolved Pakistan, Afghanistan, Sudan, Yemen, Somalia. set up zones of occupation, and if those with the tactical force had the guts to do that, whatever the price of going that route, we would not be watching North Africa and the Far East join the long standing enemies of Israel in an implosion.
This all started in 79 with Khomeini and his Iranian revolution. The Ayatollah broadcast his Persian call to arms from Paris, and world leaders held their dicks in their hands, to channel old man Morgan, while the fanatical Imam toppled the Shah. Jimmy might have saved the fellow citizens he served some dignity by exporting Billy Carter as an American radical. The Saudis did the same thing prior to Osama's rise in prominence and bear some of the blame for contemporary tremors.
Jennifer cites John Yoo, attempting to rehabilitate a rationalizing legal hardliner, by having him universalize NATO's Article 5. I doubt this makes Hollande happy. I watched extensive press coverage of the neutralization of the Kouachi brothers and their associate, and then Hollande's entry and subsequent gathering of ministers in the Presidential Palace. The informality of the European bureaucrat anesthetizes sensibility, and briefly entertained the idea of sending Marine Le Pen my resume. Perhaps I should do it on a lark. Why didn't Turkish authorities detain Boumeddiene? The corruption of ionized interests will always be with us, but this too, smells of bad faith.
In essence, Jennifer's urgency for the Obama Administration to reignite Bush's battle lines is misguided, because war takes commitment, national unity. We lost that after Truman fired MacArthur.
Monday, October 13, 2014
Curtsey
Despite my usage bill and my need to file my legal griefs, as if this is going to protect me from finishing my life as a hate crime, I am honored to have the European views that I do, and will not ask the Europeans why, or expect affirmation or its opposite. My ISP has been kinder to me than any humans of late, despite its settlement with consumer advocates over things it never did to me, at least as far as I know. If I cannot die with my lips kissing sampietrini, becoming a collusionist in Rouen might be my second choice.
I bow, grasp your shoulders, fluent kiss on each cheek. I'd also raise Mussolini back from the dead faster than RAI could recycle Inspector Luca. Unlike Jennifer Rubin, and this is one area where she and I differ as conservative women, I cannot consider myself a patriot when I have been at the mercy of extermination, life long.
I bow, grasp your shoulders, fluent kiss on each cheek. I'd also raise Mussolini back from the dead faster than RAI could recycle Inspector Luca. Unlike Jennifer Rubin, and this is one area where she and I differ as conservative women, I cannot consider myself a patriot when I have been at the mercy of extermination, life long.
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Evacuation on the wind
"To most observers, my grandfather had been as elated to hear of Japan's decision to surrender as had the next man." John McCain's Faith of My Fathers
Mmm. Reiteration of the fact that I do not submit a great deal of my work to small press journals anymore. I have three pages of contributor copies of small press journals, mostly stashed in my closet shelf with the other journals in which I do not appear. From the time I began my post renovation recovery in 2008, through today, I have written nearly a thousand blog posts, had one non fiction essay accepted in a special Appalachian issue which I need to dig out of kitchen drawer, and fewer friendly rejections than I used to receive. People who do litzines are basically leftists who make fun of creative inanity for the most part. Intimate with the culture, I'm nonetheless no longer a fresh voice,
Like Charles Krauthammer. It may surprise you to learn I do not often agree with political conservatives on much of what they espouse. Homosexuality is more of a moral issue on which I've soured because of my past intimacy with homosexuals and my own insecurity about women who indulge in lewd pleasuring making passes at me. If this ever happens to me again I will attempt to kill the woman who does it, and I'll stand trial claiming self defense-- but I will engage the liberal censure of auto erotic threat postures another day. Trauma doesn't make these issues less complex-- and I cannot deny a voyeuristic examination of gay sexuality. Recovered enough that I can separate curiosity from what would make me happy-- and a happy embattled spastic flea bitten poet-- that is a tall order.
What interests me about the aging, uptight psychiatrist, and the fresher Texan AG is their successful refusal to allow paraplegia to define them. I am interested in the silences, as it is obvious to my viewers that cerebral palsy is still a badge which I assert, though I could be fraudulent. None of you know for sure. The poet Robert Thomas, his wife Cheryl, whom I have psychologically adopted as the female friend I might have had if I did not have to flee for the bus with a thieving Jehovah's Witness who only furthered my convictions about race and black theology, they know. It is interesting that two white moderately progressive writers met me at read promotions, and with knowledge of my intemperate sins between them, one cut me. The other sends me his collections. I occasionally do the same, but, god forbid if I had their telephone number. Cheryl might then buy my former supervisor a decent civilian attorney. I could talk God out of Judgement Day given half the chance. Griot as an insulating shield. Griot as an outcry, a need.
Perhaps Kathleen Parker's name recognition would not heighten my profile as much as Jennifer Rubin's would, but Jennifer is not yet quite Parker. She's savvier and actually the type of conservative female a better metamorphosis might have molded me into; when Rubin is on she is as sharp as a tack. My foreign policy is more ruthless, more frightening, hopefully not sentiments that would gain Mossad's attention. The state of Israel is a failure and its eventual dissolution is inevitable. More stable powers need to declare certain territories as ungovernable and turn them into protectorates until issues of autonomy can be resolved. This includes Pakistan, North Korea, Israel, Iraq, Yemen, Somalia, Sudan (why does South and North Sudan exist?) Libya, Chad, Haiti, the San Dominican Republic, Syria, unfortunately. We all have lists.
Mmm. Reiteration of the fact that I do not submit a great deal of my work to small press journals anymore. I have three pages of contributor copies of small press journals, mostly stashed in my closet shelf with the other journals in which I do not appear. From the time I began my post renovation recovery in 2008, through today, I have written nearly a thousand blog posts, had one non fiction essay accepted in a special Appalachian issue which I need to dig out of kitchen drawer, and fewer friendly rejections than I used to receive. People who do litzines are basically leftists who make fun of creative inanity for the most part. Intimate with the culture, I'm nonetheless no longer a fresh voice,
Like Charles Krauthammer. It may surprise you to learn I do not often agree with political conservatives on much of what they espouse. Homosexuality is more of a moral issue on which I've soured because of my past intimacy with homosexuals and my own insecurity about women who indulge in lewd pleasuring making passes at me. If this ever happens to me again I will attempt to kill the woman who does it, and I'll stand trial claiming self defense-- but I will engage the liberal censure of auto erotic threat postures another day. Trauma doesn't make these issues less complex-- and I cannot deny a voyeuristic examination of gay sexuality. Recovered enough that I can separate curiosity from what would make me happy-- and a happy embattled spastic flea bitten poet-- that is a tall order.
What interests me about the aging, uptight psychiatrist, and the fresher Texan AG is their successful refusal to allow paraplegia to define them. I am interested in the silences, as it is obvious to my viewers that cerebral palsy is still a badge which I assert, though I could be fraudulent. None of you know for sure. The poet Robert Thomas, his wife Cheryl, whom I have psychologically adopted as the female friend I might have had if I did not have to flee for the bus with a thieving Jehovah's Witness who only furthered my convictions about race and black theology, they know. It is interesting that two white moderately progressive writers met me at read promotions, and with knowledge of my intemperate sins between them, one cut me. The other sends me his collections. I occasionally do the same, but, god forbid if I had their telephone number. Cheryl might then buy my former supervisor a decent civilian attorney. I could talk God out of Judgement Day given half the chance. Griot as an insulating shield. Griot as an outcry, a need.
Perhaps Kathleen Parker's name recognition would not heighten my profile as much as Jennifer Rubin's would, but Jennifer is not yet quite Parker. She's savvier and actually the type of conservative female a better metamorphosis might have molded me into; when Rubin is on she is as sharp as a tack. My foreign policy is more ruthless, more frightening, hopefully not sentiments that would gain Mossad's attention. The state of Israel is a failure and its eventual dissolution is inevitable. More stable powers need to declare certain territories as ungovernable and turn them into protectorates until issues of autonomy can be resolved. This includes Pakistan, North Korea, Israel, Iraq, Yemen, Somalia, Sudan (why does South and North Sudan exist?) Libya, Chad, Haiti, the San Dominican Republic, Syria, unfortunately. We all have lists.
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