Bye-Bye for Now

Tom DeLay has stepped aside for the moment as House majority leader, because he's under indictment for misuse of political donations. His attorney referred to the indictment as "skunky," isn't that cute?

DeLay set up a PAC to promote Republican candidates in Texas. Donations to PACs may not legally be used for individual political campaigns, but some of this PACs money found its way to individual candidates somehow or other.

Once the Republicans, apparently using those illegal contributions, gained a majority in the Texas legislature, Mr. DeLay worked with them to redraw the district lines in the state to make sure the Republicans would keep their majority for good. Isn't that cute?

That's the subject of the indictment. I remember reading somewhere about evidence suggesting that Mr. DeLay's charitable organization, ostensibly put together to help orphans, somehow got into the business of paying for Mr. DeLay to take his big contributors golfing. And that's not to mention his good buddy Jack Abramoff, who apparently gave him lots of money to go golfing down in the Bahamas or something and then received his vote on legislation that benefitted him. Say it with me:

CON-FLICT OF IN-TE-REST.

And Mr. DeLay's response to all this? "I have done nothing wrong. I have violated no law, no regulation, no rule of the house."

Well, maybe not. At the very least, though, he ought to watch who he hangs out with.


Benshlomo says, I smell a skunk.

It's 1967 in Gaza

I was afraid of this.

I still think the Gaza pullout was a politically astute move, and maybe a morally upright one, but we are after all dealing with Hamas. They're so amazingly predictable. They, and various other bodies dedicated to the so-called "liberation" of Israeli territory, have one tactical maneuver and one only; increase the violence.


Thus Israel, in a bold and risky move, evacuates all Jewish settlers from Gaza in the hope for at least a cease fire. A few weeks go by, and Hamas starts lobbing Qassam rockets into Israel proper from its new positions in Gaza. Surprise!

This, ladies and gentlemen, is why Israel took the Gaza territory in the first place. Arab forces used to use those positions to fire at Israel, and they're doing the same thing. And as Rita Mae Brown (I think) told us, insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result. The last time Arab forces showed this kind of behavior, they lost territory. They're doing it now expecting to gain territory. All together now: huh?


But that's not the most depressing part, of course. The most depressing part is that suckers all over the world are sure to take note of Hamas' unprovoked violence and shout "Go, Hamas!" Then they'll take note of Israel's retaliatory airstrikes, in which no one (thank God) has yet been hurt, and shout "Israel must be destroyed!" All together now: huh?

On second thought, don't bother to explain. I've been hearing that kind of lunacy since the Middle Ages and I've heard enough.

Benshlomo says, There's nothing more boring than an ideologue with no ideas.

Baby Brown in Congress

This is just unbelievable. Michael "Doing a heck of a job" Brown sits on his ass for ten days or so while New Orleans drowns, someone in Congress asks him why, and he says "I guess you want me to be a superhero."


I was a classroom teacher once. What do you suppose would have happened to me if I had failed to show up for class or call the school for a couple of weeks, leaving the principal scrambling to get my students cared for, if he had then asked me why I hadn't done my job, and I had said "I guess you want me to be a superhero"? If, that is, I had claimed that I needed extraordinary powers just to follow my job description? Being flayed alive would be a merciful fate.

Good ol' Brownie also tells Congress "My biggest mistake was failing to realize that Louisiana was dysfunctional." What do you suppose would have happened to me if I had told my principal in the above scenario that "My biggest mistake was failing to realize that my unlicensed teacher's aid couldn't prepare a lesson plan in ten minutes and then teach all day"? If, that is, I had claimed my biggest mistake was failing to realize that the next most responsible person in the room lacked the training, resources and legal right to do my job? Being flayed alive, etc.


Let's review: Michael Brown received an appointment from George W. Bush to head up an agency with the responsibility to make damn sure that the victims of any national emergency received proper care. A national emergency hit, he lounged around for a couple of weeks, and now claims that (1) he didn't have the power to take care of the victims, and (2) doing so wasn't his job anyway.

Yes, the mayor of New Orleans and the governor of Louisiana could have done a better job. I heard some Bush apologist on television say that very thing about an hour ago. He then said that the president rolled up his sleeves, stepped up to the plate, and started fixing the problem. The crappy sports metaphors should be enough to tell you that neither this idiot, nor Brownie, nor our chief executive has the least idea what's going on in the real world. And when a Congressman points that out to them, they complain about how unfair Congressman is.

Out here in real life, fellas, we try to leave that kind of whining behind in first grade at the latest.


Benshlomo says, Do you think we can elect a group of adults to high office next time?

If Only You Believed in Miracles

For no particular reason that I can think of, the legendary figure of Choni the Circle-Drawer came to my mind over the weekend. (That's Choni with that throat-clearing rasp at the beginning rather than the "ch" sound, for you non-Hebrew speakers.)


Choni, we are told, lived in a dry region where drought had prevailed for some years, and the crops continued to fail. Starvation, disease, death. Choni drew a circle in chalk in the main road and said "I will not leave this circle until the rains come."

A light drizzle, little more than a mist, drifted down from the sky.

Choni said "This is not what we need."

A furious downpour plummeted to the earth, drenching everything immediately.

Choni said, "This too will not help us."

Finally, a healthy rain began to fall, and the people were saved.

This is the kind of story we often hear to demonstrate the power of prayer, or of positive thinking, or some such mystical or philosophical point of view. Choni's rabbinic colleagues, however, were not impressed. They said to him, "You teach the people to rely on miracles instead of upon repentance, prayer and charity. From here on in they will not be satisfied with the world God gave them, and will not wish to work or engage with the world; they will wait for a miracle instead."


Why is this a bad thing? I have heard at least two reasons. First, Torah forbids us from relying on miracles, which is reason enough. Second - and I say it as a committed liberal, dedicated to the proposition that government has a responsibility to help those who cannot help themselves - Choni's act infantilizes the people, makes it more difficult for them to rely upon themselves and the gifts that God has given them and promotes laziness and ingratitude.

All very true, and I am indebted to Rabbi Joseph Telushkin for telling me this story many years ago at the Brandeis-Bardin Institute. Another reason for scolding Choni the Circle-Drawer occurs to me now.

His contemporaries warned him against relying on miracles, but we are also taught that everything we see is a miracle. It's a miracle that a tiny grass seed becomes a blade of grass, isn't it? We're even told that beside each blade of grass stands its own individual angel, whispering "Grow! Grow!"

It's a miracle that each and every object on Earth, at least as far as we can tell, obeys the law of gravity. If we dropped a hammer and it fell toward the sky, we might consider that miraculous, but isn't it equally miraculous that the hammer inevitably falls toward the center of the Earth?

Why do we not see the miraculous in all these things? Because, despite their miraculous nature as issuing from the mouth of God, they are predictable. We expect them, and so barely notice them.

Now comes Choni the Circle-Drawer and, with the best intentions in the world, invites us to consider unnatural phenomena like his call for rain to be predictable, too. Before he drew his circle, we might have some ability to appreciate the miracle of the rain; afterwards, why should we consider it so? All we'd have to do is draw a circle and stand in it, and hey presto! Rain!

There's little enough wonder in the world as it is. Perhaps Choni's mistake was in taking away some of that dwindling supply.


Benshlomo says, Stop and smell the roses.

Running into the Ground

On this date 2495 years ago, the badly outnumbered Greek army beat the Persians at Marathon. (At least that's what I've read - how accurate are these experts about dates so long ago?)


Well, whenever it was, the Greek victory at Marathon gave rise to two important developments; Western civilization and the marathon race. Like an increasing number of people, I have participated in both.

If the Greeks had lost, say some people, Western civilization would have been doomed, since most of its important political and philosophical ideas (like democracy) came from Greece and would have died in the cradle if Persia had conquered. Simple concept.


The marathon race is a little more complex. It came about, as we all know, because a runner named Phidippides took off for Athens right after the battle and ran the 25 miles in about three hours. See, over the previous few days, Phidippides had gone to and come back from Sparta to ask for their help in fighting the Persians, and Sparta had agreed to go to war, but not for a few days for religious reasons. After the round trip, Phidippides fought with the Greeks (in full armor, apparently) as they beat the Persians back to the sea. The Persians headed for Athens, hoping to gain a foothold there, and Phidippides dashed off ahead of them to tell the Athenians about the victory at Marathon and the approaching Spartans so they wouldn't lose heart and let the Persians beat them. It worked, too; the Athenians held the Persians off and saved Western civilization. They couldn't save Phidippides, though. After all that exertion, he gasped out his good news and dropped dead, either on the spot or a couple of days later, depending on who you believe.

So in his honor, the marathon race came to be. It's now 26.2 miles because way back in the 1800's, the Olympics were held in London and Queen Victoria wanted to watch the end of the race. Unfortunately, the finish line was 1.2 miles away from Buckingham Palace, so they extended the race by that distance so Victoria could watch - they couldn't possibly ask the queen to get into a coach and drive down the road, of course.


No, I'm not making this up.

As for me, I ran a full marathon about 10 years ago in Washington DC. Took me a little over seven hours. I'm no Phidippides, but I finished it, and I've barely run a step since. Sue me.

In any case, happy anniversary to Western civilization and the marathon race, and Phidippides, I'm sorry you died, but you would be dead by now anyway.

Benshlomo says, I've only got one question - if they were so anxious to honor the runner, why didn't they name the race "the Phidippides"?

Under the Plain Brown Wrapper

Not to belabor a point, but do you notice anything odd about this? (Apart from the obvious idiocy of devoting precious resources to attacking the sale of pornography to consenting adults at a time like this, that is.)

Well, do you remember who Rupert Murdoch is? Australian media baron with major right wing tendencies; calls himself a "libertarian," but doesn't seem to mind interfering with other people's private lives if said private lives displease him, and has the resources to do so. Needless to say, he's a major supporter of politicians like George W. Bush because of their supposed stand for traditional values and against things like the free trade of sexually explicit materials. Naughty, naughty, says Rupert; people who indulge in porn are sinners and the government should go after them with both barrels!

Now, have another look at that Washington Post story. Notice who's raking in major bucks from pornography? Rupert Murdoch, that's who!

For my money, that kind of two-faced pretense is far more stomach-churning than almost any hump-hump flick you can find.

Benshlomo says, Does your left hand know what your right hand is doing at this hour?

Good Night to the Scourge of Evil

Simon Wiesenthal died yesterday.


He's become pretty well known over the years, and even though he was 96 years old, his name still showed up in the news from time to time; the Wiesenthal Center issues statements periodically about hate crimes or controversial events like "The Passion of the Christ".

Mr. Wiesenthal was most famous as a Nazi hunter, of course, a man who sought justice for crimes after the fact. On the other hand, the Wiesenthal Center sponsored the construction of the Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles a number of years ago, one of many attempts to prevent violent hatred. So the man's life eventually came to represent a good balance between punishing evil and encouraging virtue.


Obituaries today focus on activities like his contribution to Adolf Eichmann's capture, his unfortunately unsuccessful attempts to capture Josef Mengele, even his principled refusal to accuse Kurt Waldheim of atrocities he didn't commit. (Turns out Mr. Waldheim was guilty of nothing more than denying Austria's role in the Holocaust - bad enough as far as it goes, but not an atrocity.)

I have not, however, found any mention yet of Mr. Wiesenthal's book "The Sunflower." This is a shame, because that book gets right to the heart of the man's whole life.


It tells the story of Wiesenthal's encounter with a wounded Nazi officer at a time when Wiesenthal himself was still in a concentration camp. The officer, badly burned and dying, ordered a hospital staffer to bring him a Jewish prisoner. Wiesenthal, chosen at random, heard this officer weepingly confess to participating in a massacre of Jewish civilians. The officer wanted forgiveness from some Jew, any Jew, before he died. Wiesenthal silently got up and left.

Many years later, Wiesenthal asked philosophers and theologians of all stripes whether he should have forgiven the Nazi. "The Sunflower" is his account of the original incident and the responses he received to his question.

Some have expressed skepticism as to whether the incident really occurred or not, but the point remains the same; How far does human forgiveness reach?

There are those who insisted that Wiesenthal's inability to forgive the Nazis was a serious character flaw. I say, with most Jews I know, that there are certain things that human beings simply cannot be permitted to get away with. Mr. Wiesenthal taught us that.

Benshlomo says, Rest in peace, Simon - we'll take it from here.

Moving Right Along

Over the weekend, Little Miss and I picked a place to get married. Actually it was her brainstorm; the place is in Malibu, right off the beach, and she's been there many times before. There's plenty of room, it's not too expensive, and the owner of the place has given Little Miss pretty much of a free reign. I like the way it looks, too.

Also, I met a man in the jewelry business who agreed to help me pick out a ring next week. First, I'm to visit some reputable jewelry stores and educate myself somewhat.

The more items we investigate and make decisions on, the more I realize that I'm actually getting married. Like most people, I have no doubts about my fiancee; all my doubts are about me.

My father divorced my mother early in my life, so I sometimes question my own ability to sustain a commitment.

I make a decent living for one person, but like so many of us these days, I'm going to need way more discipline and financial savvy to support Little Miss, her daughter, and whatever other children we are blessed with.

I've been single and alone for a long time, and I'm accustomed to a lot of solitude and space. You can't always have that in a family.

So, despite my best efforts, I let these nasty issues and some other ones gnaw at me and get me crazy. Then Little Miss comes to visit me on Fridays, I take one look at her and wonder what the dickens I'm so worried about. She knows all my insecurities and I know all of hers, and she wants to marry me anyway.

So I'm going to look at some rings this week and I'm going to love it.

Benshlomo says, I love Little Miss.

Open Letter to the White House - Four Years of Nothing

Dear Mr. President:

Let's see...

Last month, the United States suffered through the worst natural disaster in close to 80 years or more. Government on all levels stood by for days and did nothing. Indeed, your administration worsened the catastrophe by deliberately ignoring clear warnings, and by a series of funding cuts and appointments derived from pure spoilsmanship.

After unpardonable delays, you gave some lip service to the government's responsibility to its citizens, but your party has wasted no time in turning aside any attempt to find those responsible for this idiocy. Indeed, your party has labeled those attempts "playing the blame game," and refused to allow any independent investigation whatsoever.


Now, in one of your usual speeches - heavy on drama, light on content - you struggle to convince us once again that our greatest concern is nonexistent weapons of mass destruction. You advocate, apparently seriously, another round of spending and tax cuts while insisting that we have enough money to clean up the mess. Someone in your administration awarded a lucrative no-bid contract to your Vice President's former company to do the job. You have placed, not a person experienced in environmental clean-up or rebuilding, but your chief political advisor - a man who recently all but accused half the country of treason and very likely revealed the identity of an undercover American intelligence officer for political gain - at the head of rebuilding efforts.

All of this is insanity, pure and simple, which would be bad enough in the nation's highest offices. What makes it worse is my memory of events following the destruction of the World Trade Center.

It was the worst military disaster this country had faced in 60-odd years. Your administration had worsened it by deliberately ignoring clear warnings of its approach (including, we now learn, an order from your administration for the destruction of records regarding a leading terrorist). After unpardonable delays, including your administration's refusal to provide any independent investigation, you prepared an attack on a foreign nation based on the threat of nonexistent weapons of mass destruction. With an expensive war going on, you tried to cut taxes while spending outrageous amounts on things like a no-bid contract for postwar construction to your Vice President's former company. Any attempt at discussion or responsibility you met with accusations of anti-Americanism, often delivered by your chief political advisor.

It's been four years since our safety and confidence disappeared under the wreckage of the World Trade Center, and nothing whatsoever has changed. You are worse than useless.


Go home, George.

Flags and What's Under Them

Seventy years ago today, two things happened in Germany; the country adopted a new flag and the Nuremberg Laws went into effect.


I'm not about to post the Nazi flag on this blog; you've all seen it far too many times anyway. It's famous. The Nuremberg Laws are less famous. You ask me, the situation should be reversed.

The Nazi flag, let's face it, is sexy. It's made up of bold colors and design elements, and combined with other kinds of Nazi fetish gear, I imagine it can make any pimply-faced, gutless loser feel overwhelmingly macho in seconds. That's why the thing is still all over creation, years after the screaming junkie lunatic who invented it shot his face off in a Berlin bunker.


The Nuremberg Laws, on the other hand, represent pretty well the oozing rot that the flag tried to cover up. Those laws stripped German Jews of their citizenship and civil rights. When the nations of the world failed to notice, those laws became an important stepping stone in the path that led to the Holocaust.

The Nazi flag is fantasy. The Nuremberg Laws are reality. It figures that those sexually insecure neurotics, the Nazi party leadership, would confuse the two on this date.

Benshlomo says, The Big Lie fools the liar, too.

Bless You

The other day, Little Miss told me that she wanted to drink more water as a health measure. Water is so boring, though, that she found it difficult to follow her intention. I suggested (I'm not quite sure why the idea occurred to me) that she might get more inspired to drink water if she said the traditional Jewish blessing beforehand. Fortunately, she loved the idea. (She's always ready for any spiritual development, which is just one of the things I love about her.)


The blessing over a drink of water goes "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, that everything exists by His word." As with most blessings, this one intends among other things to draw our attention to what we are doing and to the One who provided us with the opportunity.

Now, not all foods and drinks require the same blessing, and knowing which blessings to say and in what order provides us with further consciousness. All blessings have the same format; they all begin "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe..." (in Hebrew, of course). Which of the many hundreds of conclusions do we say? That depends on what we are about to do. Here are some for various foods.

For bread, we say "...who brings forth bread from the Earth."

For other baked goods or grain foods, "...who creates species of nourishment."

For wine, "...who creates the fruit of the vine."

For apples, pears, avocadoes, oranges, and anything else that grown on trees, "...who creates the fruit of the tree."

For other growing things, like potatoes or corn, "...who creates the fruit of the earth." (This also applies to bananas, interestingly; it seems the ancient Rabbis who wrote all these blessings recognized that banana palms are not like other trees.)

For other foods, like meat, milk, eggs, and of course water - in short, just about any non-plant food - "...that everything exists by His word."

If one is about to eat a full meal including bread, the blessing over bread covers all the other foods on the table. If there is no bread, one says the blessings for all the foods one is about to eat, in a certain order. I can't quite remember what the order is for sure; I think one blesses wine first, then grain foods, then tree fruits, then earth-growing foods, then everything else. Anyone interested should ask a rabbi.

All of these complex rules would probably drive a devout Christian out of his or her mind. They are the sort of things that drive us away from a true relationship with God, or so say the radio preachers. As long as we remain true to God and His word, they say, rules regarding food and drink are "inessentials" and can only distract us from God.


I beg to differ. The Christian attitude makes perfect sense in context, since Christianity (of the fundamentalist kind, anyway) sees physical involvement as a trap and a snare, and the world as Satan's kingdom until the Second Coming. The Jewish attitude, on the other hand, is that the world is not a distraction from holiness, but the means to achieve it.

It is God, say the rabbis, who gave us the physical world and all its pleasures. We can always participate in them unconsciously, as beasts do, but they're really there to bring us closer to God by elevating our performance of them to a sanctified action. That's why we say blessings, to make the ordinary act of eating into a prayer. The mystics go so far as to tell us that "sparks" of holiness reside in our food and drink, and in all our daily activities, scattered through the world in the time of Adam and Eve; by saying blessings and performing these activities with the proper devotion, we can "elevate" the sparks of holiness back up to Heaven where they came from. Once we have elevated all the sparks, we will find ourselves in the Messianic Age.


Well, heck, if I can help bring that about just by waiting a few seconds before I sink my teeth into an apple, it seems like a small price to pay.

Benshlomo says, Bless you - it's not just for sneezing anymore.

Open letter to the White House - Defending those on the front lines

Dear Mr. President:


Congratulations on your willingness to take responsibility for the failures of the federal government to do its job on behalf of the victims of Hurricane Katrina. It's only been a few weeks. That's got to be some kind of record for you.

I'm rather confused, though, by this remark of yours: "I'm not going to defend the process going in, but I am going to defend the people who are on the front line of saving lives." As usual, you make a statement that contradicts pretty nearly everything you have done. I wonder if you'd be good enough to explain yourself this time.

First of all, as far as I know, no one has actually attacked the people who are on the front line of saving lives - that is, those private citizens trying to help each other as best they can while waiting for their elected officials to use their tax money to help them. Perhaps you meant to assert that you want to defend federal troops, the national guard and so on; if so, you are sadly deluded. Those people, with good intentions and without, are not on the front lines of saving lives, thanks largely to you and your friends; let's not forget that some of them were actually prohibited from saving lives and required to do public relations work for FEMA instead. If anyone has attacked the people who are on the front line of saving lives, it's you. You can hardly claim to defend the citizens of New Orleans and other devastated areas when you've been attacking them, by neglect if nothing else, all along.

This brings me to my next point; your claim that you will not defend the "process going in," the federal government's woefully inadequate aid to the Mississippi Delta. Saying you will not defend the "process going in" is as ludicrous as your claim that you will defend the people on the front line of saving lives. Once you finally cut last month's vacation short by two days and got back to Washington, flying as quickly as possible over the disaster areas, you immediately started to "defend the process going in," and you've barely stopped for breath since. You told the world that, as far as you knew, no one anticipated that New Orleans' levees would break (a lie); you praised your horse-racing appointee Michael Brown, a man with no experience in disaster management who had delayed any action for precious hours, for doing "a heck of a job" (a piece of self-serving nonsense); you delayed evacuation efforts by hours so you could land in New Orleans undisturbed, days after your presence might have done some good (a cynical manipulation), you have accused those seeking the parties responsible for this debacle of playing the "blame game" (an anti-democratic and anti-American accusation). All of these actions, and everything else you've done since the storm hit, are defenses of a pitifully desperate sort, and now you tell us that you're "not going to defend the process going in." It's a little late, sir.

Well, now that you've delivered yourself of this through-the-looking-glass statement - having proclaimed that you will do what you don't do and that you won't do what you do - you want us all to believe that "to the extent the federal government didn't fully do its job right, I take responsibility." Excuse me if I take that statement with a few shovels full of salt, Mr. President. I suppose I should congratulate you on adding even the word "responsibility" to your vocabulary after five or so years in office, but I haven't got time to give you even that much benefit of the doubt. Even the "extent" to which you take "responsibility" comes with limitations, as though your territorial dispute with state and local government was more consequential than saving people's lives. As though you dared not put a toe over the Louisiana border for fear of offending the governor, who begged you for help for days. The country needed a take-charge president, something you have pretended to be ever since you took office; you have now demonstrated conclusively that you are about as bold and decisive as any other invertebrate.

Some months ago you claimed to realize that words have consequences, so permit me to educate you on the consequences of using a word like "responsibility." Although you seem to believe that saying "I take responsibility" absolves you of all duty to do anything further, it actually means that you accept whatever results your actions produce. Your actions, regarding Hurricane Katrina and everything else the United States has faced since your "election," have produced violent death by natural and unnatural means, a bitterly divided nation, contempt from most of the rest of the world and an approval rating for you yourself that's lower than any previous president at this point in his term.

You are not in a position to defend anyone, nor to choose who you will or will not defend - you can't even defend yourself. Your administration is an utter failure and you yourself a first-class loser at everything but, apparently, mountain biking. A little while ago you said you needed to get on with your life. I agree. Let's be frank, sir; it's time for you to pack up your stuff, clear out of the White House and start enjoying your retirement. You've done little but practice for just that moment since January 2001. Enough is enough.

The Night the Lights Went Out

Okay, the afternoon the lights went out. Don't get picky.

Today there was a total power outage in large parts of Los Angeles, my hometown. I was at work after three days of staying home sick, and from 1:00 p.m. to 2:20 p.m. or so I was stuck on the 43rd floor of this high-rise, listening to my stomach complain because I hadn't had lunch and the elevators, of course, weren't working.

It's funny what goes through your mind at a time like that. My mood was crummy anyway, because I was hungry and congested and so on, and I sent a mental complaint to God because this was not what I needed.

Then I started thinking about my family, most of whom live in the San Fernando Valley where the blackout hit first. The building phones were out, but my cell phone worked, and I finally reached my brother, who was able to tell me that as far as he knew everyone was all right. Thank God for technology, yeah?

Then I started wondering why this blackout hit in the first place. It's September 12, and a few days ago some supposedly American al-Qaeda twat threatened Los Angeles and Australia (what a team) with terrorist attack. But then, I wondered, if the terrorists who destroyed the World Trade Center had Los Angeles in mind, why would they come up with such a complex plot? Cut off the power to the San Fernando Valley so the Department of Water and Power has to re-route electricity through its substations and cut off power to downtown for a while in the process?

Then the lights came back on and I went to lunch, and felt a lot better. I'll bet everyone else did, too.

Benshlomo says, I hope we get to feel better for a while yet.

I'm Seeing Red

Remember when George Bush Sr. was running for a second term? Because everyone knew he was a spineless wimp and a clueless silver-spoon turkey, the RNC spread his wife Barbara all over the media. She was everyone's pearl-wearing, laugh-line-decorated, stand-by-her-man grandmother, and if you voted for Poppy you got her too, remember?

Well, here's what Grandma Barb had to say about the poverty-stricken victims of Hurricane Katrina who were lucky enough to find haven in Texas for a while, many of them with volunteers who offered them hospitality when state and federal government would not do so.

My God, this is what Dubya grew up with, saw and heard every day of his youth. And I used to wonder why he never seemed to develop a conscience. With that waiting for me after school, I'd start drinking too.

Shame on the whole lot of them.

Benshlomo says, The rotten apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

Losing the "Blame Game"

President Bush has finally, finally, started to begin to commence taking care of the Americans lost and damaged by Hurricane Katrina. Having done so, he wants us all to stop playing the "blame game," by which he apparently means he wants us to concentrate on helping people and not on figuring out why those people remained without help for a week or more, out of food and drink and in dirty water up to their necks. The request comes a little late.

I mean, let's take a moment to consider what happened: For the past several years, George W. Bush's administration has cut funds for natural disaster relief and the Army Corps of Engineers, making it difficult or impossible among other things to repair the New Orleans levee system. This continued despite constant warnings from all quarters as the region's emergency preparedness descended to dangerous levels. President Bush also replaced a highly competent and experienced FEMA chairman with his usual political crony, a man with no experience with disaster preparedness or relief. (See the September 2, 2005 entry.)

In short, he left the Mississippi Delta region wide open to exactly this kind of catastrophe at exactly the time that hurricane seasons grew in force, as he might have known by asking his brother, the governor of Florida. No, of course he didn't cause the hurricane, but he did less than nothing to protect Americans from its predictable and deadly effects, and when it hit his administration sat around claiming its hands were tied because the disaster was Louisiana's responsibility.


Now he wants to sweep the whole thing under the rug as quickly as possible, making sure no one looks for the responsible parties until long past the time such a search could make a difference. Of course that's what he wants.

Tough bananas, Dubya. You'd rather flip us off than acknowledge the least mistake, we know, but you're not getting away with it this time.

Benshlomo says, If you know you're going to lose the "blame game," try not to play.

Walking to New Orleans

I've been trying to think of something to say about Katrina and what she's done, but nothing comes to mind, except to say that I was profoundly mistaken about the bitch's import last week. Maybe I'm lacking in empathy; I haven't even cried over the losses down there. Maybe it's just shock.

In any case, there's really nothing for me to add to what's been said already.

So in case you've been wondering why Benshlomo has been so conspicuously silent about the worst natural disaster in recent American memory:

Benshlomo says nothing.

Thou Shalt Not Be an Ungrateful Slimeball

I'm sorry, folks, but much as I dislike the Iraq war;

Much as it pains me when American right-wingers get so confused when other nations fail to worship the U.S. for the "favors" we've done them;

Much as my gorge rises at every superior smirk on the face of Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reilly, George W. Bush, and all the rest of them who call me an elitist;

Much as I hesitate at every interventionist footstep;

Much as all of that is true, this kind of ingratitude, coming from Kuwait of all places, is really more than I can bear.


Benshlomo says, Katrina hit the wrong place.

Love Is a Battlefield (Sometimes)

I got in a huge fight with Little Miss over the weekend. I'm not going to go into details (they're none of your business anyway, you People-reading, paparazzi-loving, red-carpet-screaming, no-life-having jackals!), but it's worth talking about because of what I learned.

When I was younger, I used to assume that sustaining a relationship meant turning myself into whoever my would-be girlfriend wanted. I figured that because I didn't look just right, didn't have experience, and so on and so on, no girl I was interested in would want to date me, and would in fact run screaming into the night if I so much as mentioned the word "love" in her presence, never mind the word "sex."

Above all, I thought that if I was in a relationship with someone and made her angry, or got angry at her, the relationship would be dead, dead, dead.

So over the weekend, Little Miss got furious with me over something I did - I thought it meant one thing and she thought it meant another, and she was very hurt. As she shouted at me over the phone, I tried to soothe her - "Oh, baby - please, baby..." That kind of thing.

At some point, though, I realized that trying to soothe her wasn't working. It just made her angrier, and I can see why - if you're angry with someone and they try to soothe you, it feels like they're not really with you, doesn't it? There's something disrespectful about it.


So I shouted back.

I'm not saying that I shouted on policy, exactly - that is, I was genuinely angry, not pretending. It's more like I let myself express what was really in me instead of pretending it wasn't there.

I don't think I've ever shouted that loudly in my entire life.

Then Little Miss told me what was really bothering her, and we both quieted down and whispered to each other like you do when you're feeling genuinely close, and my experience of love got more powerful than ever before.


Benshlomo says, I love you, Little Miss.