The Cabinet of Dr. Paradox

The Carnage Meter Ticking On . . .(and a modest proposal)

2009-06-01T16:43:43Z

Let us see,; where has the meter moved recently? The Good Doctor will take three examples for contemplation, two of which occurred on what is typically considered Sanctuary, the grounds of a church.

In July of 2008. Jim David Adkinson, driven by what he considered to be the Liberalism of the Unitarian Universalist faith, went to a children’s performance at the church and opened fire with a 12 gauge shotgun, killing toe and wounding several others. In a letter Adkinson expected to be printed after he was to be gunned down by police (which did not happen;parishoners disarmed and held him until police arrived), he noted or only his disdain toward 'liberal' policy initiatives, such as welfare. He also complained that his food stamps were about to be cut. As to the destructive policies of liberals and the Unitarian faith, I point out that Unitarians believe in a "free and responsible search for truth and meaning" and spiritual growth.

Adkinson, unable to shoot his intended targets, which would be the leaders of the Democratic party and other public figures noted in books by Bernard Goldberg and Bill O'Reilly, instead settled in shooting up a children’s church performance.

In April of this year, Richard Poplawski ambushed a patrol unit responding to a 911 call by Poplawski's mother, who was trying to have her son removed from her house. In the shootout that followed, three police officers were killed by Poplawski's automatic weapon and two more were wounded. In the aftermath, it was noted that the conservative bloviator Glen Beck had told his audience that President Obama was planning to take the guns away, which Poplawski had in turn told freinds, and that he posted to a white supremacist web site a You Tube link to an segment Beck did where Beck disavowed "FEMA concentration camps".

Most recently, a Wichita doctor proving abortion services, George Tiller, was gunned on May 31 as he stood in the lobby of the church where his wife and daughter were attending services inside.

Let me make an aside at this point to share my views on aborting a fetus. I daresay, if I were a woman, in most situations, I would likely not have one. Neither can I say there are no circumstances where I would consider the procedure. My wife would not have an abortion (Edit: Upon hearing this, my beloved spouse, practical woman that she is, pointed out that if she were "raped by some freakish creature with two heads and three arms",, she would indeed have the fetus aborted under those circumstances).. While I have friends who have had the procedure, in none of their situations was the decision made lightly, cavalierly or without great soul wrenching contemplation. The only moral position I am sure of is that I am supremely unqualified to tell another human being how to approach such a traumatic crossroad, as I am unqualified to tell someone whether to engage in patient assisted suicide in the face of a terminal disease. I know, love, and respect kith and kin on both sides of the philosophical arguments concerning terminating a pregnancy. and I will not tell them they are right or wrong, simply because I am not omniscient.

This moral reluctance does not seem to strike Mr. O'Reilly, who has referred many times of the years to Dr. Tiller in the most incindiary fashion,

The astute reader may have by now observed my thread of logic here, which is the presence of firebrands such as O'Reilly, Beck, Michael Savage or Rush Limbaugh in inspiring horrendous acts of mayhem and violence. These people, and others, have made a cottage industry of stoking the flames of intolerance, hatred, and interpersonal bile under the premise of patriotism or moral superiority. While I am sure there are those on the left guilty of such behavior, frankly, they don't seem to have the platform that has been provided to these minions of malice. The only lefty firebrand who comes easily to mind is Keith Olbermann, and I have never heard him advocate for anything worser than criminal trials for the political and social miscreants he regularly focuses on. While these right wing hosts say they do not incite people who are already unbalanced to commit homegrown terrorism, neither can they reasonable say they do not go to the edge when they suggest that the country is under attack by liberals and left leaning public figures.

So it is time, I think, to call these people on their garbage. Not necessarily by phoning into their shows or writing letters to their producers; no, they will either hang up or refuse to acknowledge any position other than their own. Perhaps the strongest message is by using good old capitalism, contacting their sponsors and host stations and making it clear that you can no longer buy those products or support those services advertised on programs that implicitly advocate violence and hate against fellow citizens. Contact your representatives and let them know that if they support this kind of hate speech, you can no longer support their reelection for public office.

If enough people take the air out of these windbags, think how much cleaner our skies will be,

crossposted

Setting my snooze button to 2013 . . .

2009-05-07T16:42:12Z

During his time in office, in 1982, Ronald Reagan famously predicted "we might see Armageddon in our life time.” Of course, he also said, "facts are a stupid thing"; so one may take his utterances within some context.

So it comes as no surprise that 'The Great Communicator' had his finger on the public's pulse concerning the end times. Certainly, whatever else one can say about the man's abilities to gloss over inconvenient facts, such as that whole Constitutionally awkward Iran-Contra brouhaha, he took a better pulse than The Good Doctor, who more often than not measures his own pulse when trying to gauge public metabolism.

Which brings us to today's round about topic, the Mayan Calendar, which began with the Fifth Great Cycle in 3114 BC and is scheduled to end in about three and a half years, on December 21, 2012. Nearly anywhere you throw a Google you'll run across a link warning of global extinction, evolutionary disaster, cross breeding between cats and dogs, and other troublesome boo-boos. There are entire cottage industries making a living fear mongering off the omens, celestial and otherwise, which concern more and more humans.

What are some of the omens of this coming upheaval? Well, you listen to some of the delightful and very nearly sane individuals roaming gun shows across this great land and they'll tell you straight up that the election of Barack Obama is right up there at the top of the list. These are the same people who calmly assert that dinosaurs and Neanderthals co-existed and that dinosaur bones were buried on purpose by perky evolutionists and consider Glen Beck and his ilk a calm rational voice, so their cognitive skills are clear to see. So concerned are these advocates of law and order that the American President will take away their guns that one of them, Richard Poplawski, gunned down three Peace Officers in Pittsburgh in April after listening to the aforementioned Beck, Savage and others.

So determined are these devotees to protect The American Way that they are quite willing to decimate the parts of the Bill of Rights that don't apply to gun owning white Christians. Moreover, so enamored are the true believers of the nation that in addition to placing magnets exhorting passers-by to "support the troops" and displaying bumper stickers that warn weak kneed neer-do-wells to "Love America or Leave It", nearly thirty percent of state residents who define their political affiliation as republican are either ambivalent towards or in favor of seceding from the United States. Not unlike a political Schrödinger's Cat, these folks both want to love America and leave it before the 2012 box is opened. What swell patriots they are.

Add to this apocalyptic equation the recent results of a survey by a Harvard professor named Robert Putnam, who says his research indicates that the percentage of youth who defined their religious affiliation as "none" had jumped from between five to ten percent to between thirty to forty percent. The fact is that many polls, when they address the question of church attendance, focus on religions centered around the Children of Abraham, that is, followers of Christian, Jewish, or Muslim faiths. Other seekers of a spiritual path are usually funneled into the category of "Other/No Affiliation", which means that if you practice Shinto or Wicca, Buddhism or a Native American path, you're just SOL. Speaking of alternate faiths and 2012 prophecies, Hindu prophecy, which uses a calendar amazingly similar to the Mayan calendar, states that 2012 might well see the start of a five thousand year Golden Age for humanity. One may scoff, though who are we to heckle Lord Krishna?

In other news, I note that once again I have missed "Taser Your Sons and Daughters at Work Day". However, former guard Walter Schmidt of the Franklin Corrections Institution in Florida is thankfully on the ball. In order to demonstrate "what a day at work is like", and after asking parents for permission to do so, Mr. Schmidt demonstrated the power of a fully operational death star - I correct myself, a 50,000 volt taser on the assembled nubbins. According to the winsome Walter, "the big shock came when I got fired."

As was pointed out earlier, facts are a stupid thing. Who knew common sense was as well?

Now, if you will excuse The Good Doctor,, I go back to practicing my Google tossing.

(cross-posted)

Ahh, to be on the shores of Lake Lagano for the annual harvest festival . . .

2009-03-31T16:12:10Z

Awful Cruelty to an Idiot Boy

2009-03-28T14:33:44Z

The Good Doctor has, in a previous post, commented on the rise of the Rethuglican Party (or, as its hapless chairman might call it - "Part-tay!").

This encephalitic pin-headed mutant is scion of a once honorable and noble political and economic philosophy which once encompassed intellectuals like William Buckley, economists like Milton Friedman, and honest to Goddess public servants like Barry Goldwater. Whether one agrees with their philosophy or not (Spoiler Alert: I do not), at least they based it on some level of cognitive thinkin', Lincoln. Now, though, Republicanism is a tattered empty shell. The best mental exercise these people can currently muster, when not holding their breath like spoiled brats, is a sprawling budget proposal which summarizes thus:

And that's after the best minds available to Rethuglicans worked on the issue. Fortunately, Nate Silver from FiveThirtyEight.com provides an idea of what the Rethuglicans intend to do for the budget in depth

Unlike an adept who might practice Vedanta meditation seeking a unique reality, the inner Brahman, instead one finds Rethugs such as Michelle Bachman, simultaneously calling Obama's policies "Marxist" while suggesting that " I want people in Minnesota armed and dangerous . . . because we need to fight back." , after which she assuaged the populace that she "was not a kook" I know I feel so much better, thank you.

Indeed, if I were so inclined and not ready for medication, I could continue with the evidence to support my thesis, including Michael Steele's theories of self immolation in order to provide better lighting to identify his perceived enemies within the party he chairs, or Rush Limburger's many gob-smacking pronouncements.

No, instead, my warped sense of decency demands I not be cruel to idiot boys; at least not today . . .

Pay the man a quarter, Shirley . . .

2009-03-27T20:37:31Z

Your EQ is 180

Two possibilities - you've either out "Dr. Phil-ed" Dr. Phil... or you're a dirty liar.

Seriously though, your whole "Don't Worry, Be Happy" philosophy is really what defines emotional intelligence.
You're warm, open, and very optimistic. You know how to act appropriately, even if you don't feel like it.

You are a good communicator, and you have little difficulty with personal relationships - even when you're dealing with difficult people.
In general, you are successful, capable, together person. You get what you want out of life.

What's Your EQ (Emotional Intelligence Quotient)?

Our Mechanical World . . .

2009-03-20T21:07:18Z

Having finally retrieved my computer from having the bad muther (shut yo mouth) But I'm just talking about my motherboard (We can dig it) replaced, I can once again provide intellectual fanfare such as this

Ain't technology wunnerful?

"Sketches of Life"

2009-02-24T16:22:43Z

Written in 1976 by your 2008 Library of Congress's Gershwin Prize . . .

You'll thank me for inducing into your Broca brain this catchy tune herein . . .

2009-02-19T03:16:42Z

Is that a palimpsest in your pocket or are you just happy to see millenia?

2009-02-18T02:16:03Z

Seven hundred years ago recycling was just as much a rage as the practice is now. One day a monk cut up some old papyrus scraps and dutifully copied his prayer book into the reconstituted volume. One hundred years ago in Constantinople ("Been a long time gone, Constantinople; Now it's Turkish Delight on a moonlit night"), a book hound from Denmark found the prayer book in a Constantinople library and noticed that there was, beneath the prayer book, scribed another book whose inks had been scraped off to give the next calligraphic squatter room to work with.

The preexisting tome was a book or two written by Greek Brainiac Archimedes, where he examined ways to calculate the area and volume of objects like eggs because sooner or later someone was going to have to be able to render items of that sort through a 3D digital format. As a lark, Archimedes also kicked around notions of actual infinity without using a net to stop gravity from weighing in on a theorem or two.

The man was so fast he could turn out the lights and get under the covers before the room got dark, and then explain the mathematical paradigm behind the phenomenon. Archimedes was still such a bad mammah-jammah at the age of 75 that a Roman soldier felt threatened enough to run him through with a big pointy nasty sword. Over drawings of spheres in the sand. There aint no easy thug life in integral calculus -a'ight?

But I digress. There the text stood, in plain (more or less) sight for many score decades. Just kicking dust around on the shelves, as it were.

How many wonders hidden in plain sight are just under the radar in whatever spectrum we use to stimulate our visual cortex?

For a live-time demonstration of the principle of the artifact hidden in plain sight, consider the evolution of democratic chess before our very eyes. When the pawns create and leverage their own guild then a new wind's blowing in, don't 'cha know. This entire development of chess pieces having the capacity to challenge the player's strategy seems to The Good Doctor as yet another example of Reverse LewisCarrollian Particularly Peculiar Particle Quantum Physics, a meta-theory suggesting that things are in fact becoming curiouser and curiouser.

Another item of evidence may be found in the presentation made at the recent AAAS Chicago conference, where attendees were told that Weird Alien Life May Exist Among Us Now! Even though most of the suggested living spaces for this 'shadow life' include toxic arsenic lakes and deep sea hydrothermal vents, I will refrain from connecting them to any number of vapid rabid right wingnut lipflappers. Why should The Good Doctor have all the fun, after all?

Still now, even one month past the Notional Presidency of our much dis-loved Emperor Chimpus Maximus, his Flying Monkey Minions try to out Dada the politics of the White King and Queen in 'Through the Looking-Glass '. Their application of the 'Cheshire Cat' defensive strategy (in which they would fervently hope they might disappear from public scrutiny, leaving naught but their enigmatic smile as any evidence they had even been on the premises eviscerating International Treaties, the lives and careers of covert operatives and hapless schmoes, much less the Constitution), has perhaps fallen short as as a one stop shop provider for legal alibis for Rove, Meirs, Fredo and the others as they ask us to believe six impossible things before breakfast.

Again, the actions of the aforementioned minions being another example of Things Hidden In Plain Sight (Site?), still there are other items, closer to the human condition, left hidden in plain sight. such as
these sets of dentures found in the London Subway.

One is led to ponder what might have been; were they destined to be delivered to a war torn region to promote bicuspid peace and encourage good will, especially between a shy yet precocious whistling genius (Maybe like a Tuva Little Stevie Wonder) and an awkward though dedicated upper palate denture specialist and therapist, who can give Tuva Stevie what he's been looking for: the operation that will allow his jaw crippled testy ol' pa the chance to whistle just once more.

Or some poor sod realized what he was making cold calls hour after hour, and made them DIY performance art. The hybrid vigor of mis matched dental work . . . brrr; a chill just walked o'er my bones . . . perhaps a lovely picture of the evening will comfort me as I lull to sleep . .

ahhh . . . much better.

Bushusuru to go & domo arigato . . .

2009-02-16T19:11:37Z

In the mad rush to simultaneously prepare for and ignore President's Day ("President's day, president's day; the mad scientist grafts a two headed President of Lowest APR and Mattress Discounters") I missed Nirvana Day .

As chance would happen, perhaps because yesterday was Nirvana Day, it did provide some measure of resonant contemplation of that teaching of the Buddha that "after observation and analysis, when you find that anything agrees with reason and is conducive to the good and the benefit of one and all, then accept it and live up to it".

Our American President pointed out that "I am an eternal optimist [but] that doesn't mean I'm a sap," when the issue of Rethuglican petulance (their not amused response when offers of coalition building were made) was brought up in a conversation.

Speaking of Presidents, I recently mentioned Old School Republican President Warren G. Harding. Turns out he lost an irreplaceable set of White House China in a poker game, so there's that to add to his Bacchanalian political luster. This may be the reason he scored as a worse President than our dis-loved Emperor Chimpus Maximus in a recent CSPAN poll that ranked past presidents best to worst.

Surprisingly, Chimpy also ended up higher on the dip stick at number 36 than did Franklin Pierce at 40, and all that he was accused of was running down an elderly woman while driving his carriage willy nilly through the rough streets of DC . The historical record does not reflect if she had to apologize to Pierce as did Harry Wittington, who was the combination shooting companion and live target of Sith Lord Shotgunnus Dickus.

I also neglected to add in my history of the Rethuglicans that were it not for Pappa 41, the Japanese would not have the verb "bushusuru", whch other scholars may better define. I would only add humbly not to wear your good shoes, reader-san.

And perhaps Chimpy and his ilk might prefer to stay away from this side of the Boardwalk:

Meanwhile, here's the results of a recent poll:

On another matter, The Good Doctor is flabbergasted to find that the mix cut sent into deep space when launched with Voyager back in 1977 didn't include ""Ode to Joy" " (or anything off of Beethoven's Ninth). That 'Ode to Joy' was based on Friedrich Schiller's call for unity only underscores the imperative in including it on our calling card to the universe. Feh, sez I.

Finally, a reminder about our holiday schedule, Monsieur Roboto:

History, shimistory . . .

2009-02-10T16:57:46Z

In recent days, we, the teeming masses in general (and The Good Doctor in particular), have been subjected to revisionist histories concerning everything from whether the Holocaust actually took place to broad statements asserting that the Depression was not only continued by the policies of FDR's New Deal, it was caused by them (A contrasting view is here), to RNC Chairman Michael Steele's contention on a Sunday Talking Head Gab Fest that not only has the US Government never created a job (WPA anyone?), but that government jobs are not actual jobs, just "work", as in: "I don't have an actual job, I'm just Lieutenant Governor of Maryland".

These imaginative (if mis-medicated) re-writes stem, I think, from Grover Norquist's successful strategy in the mid 1990's to re-picture the presidency of Unca Ron Raygunnes, who ran on platforms of less government, a smaller deficit, and fewer taxes and left office with a larger government, a sprawling deficit, and some of the highest tax increases since the end of the Eisenhower Era. Interested readers may find Will Bunch's book "Tear Down This Myth: How the Reagan Legacy has Distorted Our Politics and Haunts our Future" of great interest and the Salon excerpt, linked through the book title, a ripping read.

Enough of book reviews, however. This new fangled rewriting of established historical fact seems to be so much fun that your humble correspondent would offer this small correction to the official record:

"The Republican party, once known as the Grand Old Party, was started in 1854 as a political arm of the abolitionist movement. Six years later it peaked early when a former Whig, an Illinois lawyer by the name of Lincoln (named for the penny) was elected to the worst job in the United States, an accomplishment not to be repeated by another Illinois resident for another 148 years, when another lawyer, this one a black man, was, in the words of the National Record of Note, The Onion, "given the worst job in the nation."

The party then reached it's final apex with the election of Theodore Roosevelt, a progressive Republican, at the turn of the Twentieth Century. After looking up the meaning of the word 'progressive' in the dictionary, the other Republicans in the caucus came to their senses and drove Roosevelt from the party. Teddy's reputation was so devastated by the experience that his visage ended up on Mount Rushmore.

After that, the party pretty much tread water, electing, among other luminaries, one Warren G. Harding, whose primary claim to fame was boffing his mistress in the White House Cloak Room (resulting in the pitter patter of tiny footsteps and the subsequent payoffs), and the scandal known as the 'Teapot Dome' , a simply adorable scheme where western land under the control of the federal government was leased in a no-bid contract to cronies of the Interior Secretary. And it would have worked, too, if it hadn't been for those insufferable kids and that stupid Great Dane with the speech impediment. Within another decade and change, they had also elected Herbert Hoover, a one time progressive, who learned his lesson from the miseries visited upon the first President Roosevelt and allowed his name to be used for both the Dam and the Institute. Oh, and there was something about twiddling his thumbs while a economic depression consumed the nation, but there's nothing to see here, folks - just move along.

The last known Republican President was Dwight D Eisenhower, an honest-to-God war hero who is now primarily known for creating the liberal make-work project known as the Interstate Highway System, and for being mentioned in the chorus of John Prine's song "Grandpa Was A Carpenter". He also, in his final address as President, warned the country about the rise of the Military-Industrial complex which was a timely statement that tried to alert the public to the unhealthy influence of - look over there! Isn't that Elvis? Now, what was I saying? Oh, never you mind; it wasn't all that important.

During President Eisenhower's term, a evil zombie twin of Republicanism, bred from an ungodly grafting of xenophobia, misogyny, and, well, graft, burst out from the chest of Joesph McCarthy like the feral alien only a wire mother could love. The Rethuglican party fed off of the sour teats of McCarthy and Richard Nixon, two members of Congress (in Nixon's case, although he was by then Eisenhower's Vice President, he started out as a red baiting Congressman) who made their bones by ruining the lives and careers of artists, intellectuals and any one who didn't play their game or kiss their ass. As an added perk, they also expected playmates to stick their noses so far up their rectal canal that they could give their lower colon a good smooch.

The Rethuglicans began to rub their hands together in the best manner of a mustached super villain, waiting for the day when the nation, beset by internal conflict resulting from unwise international intervention, gave them the keys to the national family car. Realizing that far more profits and damage could be realized by fronting a seemingly harmless grandpa for President, they acquired the services of a former actor suffering from early Alzheimer's Syndrome and fostered him upon a public tired of dealing with real life. Perfecting the formula of finding the perfect Idiot, like a soulless Chance the Gardener, the masterminds of the Rethuglican Party managed to find a dried out frat Boy and shaped him into the Emperor Chimpus Maximus. His Trained Flying Monkey Minions, many of whom had served his rich and powerful daddy, took two presidential elections, under the theory that possession is 9/10ths of the law.

Currently the Rethuglican Party, though out of favor, still roams the halls of Congress and various governmental agencies, working mischief and seeking fresh brains to feed off of. If you are confronted by one, do not attempt to reason or remove their head. Although this is an effective strategy for most of the zombie undead, their political patronage and corporate connections make this an unwise strategy. Instead, the prevailing treatment is to throw a liquid infused with common sense into their face. This concoction, known as 'Obama Water', may be effective for the short term, although studies continue to assess its efficacy in the long run."

Mr. (or Ms.) Wikipedia, I'm ready for my close up . . .

Got milk? (and other recent developments)

2009-02-08T16:17:03Z

So there you are, teeming masses. Your 401K has the value of a box of Special K, your house might bring in the price of a Malibu Barbie condo on Ebay, and your job, if you still have one, has just shown up on the latest Endangered Species update, just behind amphibians in general and Republicans in particular, although the RethuglicanParty is still shucking and jiving, mainly because the zombie undead aren't picky about menu choices.

However, never fear. There are some changes in the wind that The Good Doctor would apprise you of. For one, our long sartorial nightmare is at an end. World Nude Day took place this past Friday, and although it is too late to place an entry, some lucky chap or chapess will take away $10,000 cold hard cash (though depending how cold it is, the cash may be hard, but, ummm, shriveled, shall we say). This may be of particular interest to former Chimpy Chief of Staff Andy Card, who in recent days castigated President Obama for going coat less in the Oval Office, saying: "The Oval Office symbolizes...the Constitution, the hopes and dreams, and I'm going to say democracy." Funny story - before the reign of our disloved Emperor Chimpus Maximus, the CONSTITUTION used to symbolize the Constitution. Of course, if Chimpy's Flying Monkey Minions had had their way, that revered document would have been extraordinarily rendiditioned to an offshore location and been treated to electroshock therapy right between the preamble and the 25th amendment. That'll fix it! As far as symbolizing democracy goes, I suspect the actions of the American People last November 4th pretty well took care of that conundrum.

Anyway, I digress. After stating that Chimpy never went without a suit jacket, this photo showed up:

Seeing as how Unca Ron is not just going without a jacket, but without a tie as well, one may fairly surmise that either the White House Maitre D was lax that day in enforcing the 'No Casual' rule or the screaming meemies are (as did Nadya Suleman when she decided to have a litter of children with little appreciation of what the consequences of her decision might mean to her other six children) bringing forth a plethora of potential problems for no other reason than that it makes them feel good. This attitude is particularly overt in the Rethugican attempts to derail the educational and state components of the stimulus package. as they spend time sniffing each others butts to see if they can be alpha dog once more and practicing their zen tantrums on an exhausted public. Their hair wrenching lamentations might, for your humble correspondent, be more believable had they not willingly turned the national checking account over to the Emperor's trained flying monkey minions for shits and giggles.

Meanwhile, Richard Willamson, the once (and hopefully future) excommunicated Bishop, now states in Der Speigel that he will only recant his unfathomable position that the Holocaust never happened only when he is provided with "Historical Evidence". I share the position of Stephen Colbert in this matter, who recently mused that although Williamson accepts as fact that a man rose from the dead two thousand years ago, he does not accept as fact that sixty years ago Nazis did some pretty nasty things. Indeed.

I now take my temporary leave to attend an Imbolc ritual, which celebrates the fact that winter will soon bring spring to this hemisphere. I will need neither historical evidence or sheer speculation to supplant my belief, because I have faith in Gaia.

Would that smarmy self-absorbed politicians and pinheaded bigoted clergy engage in the same system. We'd be better off.

Eenie, Meenie, Mynnie, Meas

2009-02-04T18:49:27Z

First, let me state for the record (as long as it is written in invisible ink) that The Good Doctor never intended for the money my corporation, Bleedem, Drye, and Howe, was anticipating from the Fed bailout to be used for an all expense paid junket to Amsterdam and Thailand, where our hard working employees were to receive - umm - training . . . for, among other things, Improved Breath Control 101 (to be taught in a local Amsterdam coffee shop by Michael Phelps - after all, if the guy can win 14 gold medals after working with the Bonginator, he deserves them, n'cest pas?) and, in Bangkok, Taxpayer Relations 101, where we were to be taught the many ways to screw people out of their moolah. Drugs and illicit sex - if it was good enough for the employees of the Bush Wildlife Department, why isn't it good enough for us? Is that so wrong?

While I am on the subject, let me also state that the fact I never paid all taxes owed is because the last eight years taxed my patience beyond the limits first conceived when that particular grace sat on the drawing boards, so I don't feel as if I should bear any other burden, as my attention span has also been over-taxed keeping up with other developments, such as the ascendancy of Joe the Plumber, who, in following his career as a war correspondent (take that, Ernest Hemingway!) now wonders if "The American People deserve me" in his new career as a Rethuglican strategist. Can Ultimate Fighting Championships be far behind? Be still my beating heart.

Or perhaps the saga of Alehandro Melendez has sapped what little focus I have. Mr. Melendez, a citizen of Cleveland, recently had 911 on the line to report suspicious hooligans loitering outside his abode and hung up. When the dispatch operator called back to make sure he was safe, he had them wait on hold while he completed a heroin deal. His 'hold' function apparently consisting of placing a free hand over the mouthpiece while he negotiated, the dispatcher heard every detail and so it was no surprise when police found cocaine when they went to investigate.

In truth, though, what really has claimed whatever limited concentration my simple mind yet possesses is the aforementioned Mr. Phelps who not only accepted the mission of busting a lung, but was caught and disavowed for doing so. Rather than list the hypocrisies that Phelps has been subjected to by the tsk-tskers and naysayers who brood over their umpteenth mixed drink, uncounted prescribed (or otherwise) medication, or, heavens forbid, their own secret stash of Skunk Weed, allow me to suggest that Phelps is a trailblazer. According to a recent poll done for CBS's Sunday Morning, over 40% of the respondents supported cannabis legalization. All Phelps is doing is leading the public vanguard in such a movement.

I may have already stated some observations before concerning our economic sticky wicket; if not, allow me to do so now.

Healthy economies are based on a import/export balance. Exports take the form of manufactured goods or agricultural goods. It was cars, computers, and grains that helped drive the last economic boon. (Although services can be considered an export, usually they take jobs with them when they are exported, such as customer service positions). Manufacturing, thanks to free trade, union busting and corporate off-shoring, has been pretty much decimated, at least until Green Tech and Manufacturing gets on its feet, which may take at best five to ten years. Most agricultural exports are now in the hands of agribusiness, thanks to the last cycle of bankruptcies which took place in the 80s under Reagan and Bush I.

Everyone on both sides of the political fence talk about "small business" and "mom and pop" concerns, be it stores, shops, or farms being the engine that will restore the economy and I agree. However, in order to avoid a generation of laid off workers on the dole, some exportable item must be found immediately ('shovel ready' is the phrase of the moment, I believe) to jump start the economy. It should be a business with millions, if not billions in profits that could be taxed on a state and federal level.

It should have uses, not just for medicine, but as a bio fuel, usable for cloth and paper, be sustainable, inexpensive to grow, and historically viable as a cultural and economic support. As an added bonus, it should be a product whose legal use undercuts funding of criminal and terrorist cartels.

It should be a healthy alternative to pain and mood leveling pharmaceuticals with an ever-growing list of adverse side effects, whose safe use has been documented in various cultures for over a thousand years.

I make no apologies in suggesting that it is time for hemp and cannabis to be brought from the dark ages imposed on them 70 years ago by chemical companies such as Dupont and Pfizer with the help of the US Government.

Let's legalize it, fer crying out loud. What say the teeming masses?

Day One

2009-01-21T21:29:40Z

“The Hopeful Hearts Club" by Michael Cuffe

Hello Mr. President

2009-01-20T17:25:16Z

I have prepared some brief remarks:

Greetings, President Obama;

When the Good Doctor was a young sprig, he grew up living in the neighborhoods around and in his birthplace, Our Last Colony, Washington, D.C.

In fact, it wasn't until he was a teenager that it became clear that not everyone had the day off from school, or in some cases, work (especially if you worked in DC) on Inauguration Day. Now, watching the Inaugurals far from my hometown, I find myself caught in recollections and reminders of rants past.

For example, the weekend after the Rev. Dr. King was gunned down, I found myself a passenger in a small plane above and around Northern Virginia. In the distance, through the cockpit window, I could see the Capitol dome. Directly behind the dome, a Spartan stiff, black plume of smoke rose as neighborhoods fell. These were neighborhoods I knew through my Aunt. These were places sacrificed for all the wrong reasons.

A few years later, my mother, my brother, and I were driving through a neighborhood in Alexandria, not far from where we lived. Some sort of ruckus had broken out, and groups of teens had flipped a car or two. Something else was afire, though it wasn't so significant that it caught my attention in the way that the teens approaching our vehicle did. It was a warm night and our windows were down. We looked at each other, the younger teens in the car with their mother and the other teens milling around looking for an agenda. After a moment of quiet mutual contemplation, we were waved through and got home without further incident.

In many ways, our inner windows had been left open because of the manner by which our mother raised us, intentional or not. We were encouraged to be curious and to figure out where to find answers. My mom believed that critical thinking was an essential skill in learning how to be a human. I understand, from reading your memoir "Dreams of My Father', that in this our upbringings were similar.

So for a generation, and exponentially so over the reign of Emperor Chimpus Maximus, we as a nation have been treated to a specific incurious attitude toward discovery and learning and even intellect itself. Whether regarding matters large or small, that muscle has gone under worked for too long.

I have mused over how to say goodbye to Chimpy. Yet how does one sum up not just the damage you wrought, but the changes you brought? Some months past, I considered if you would be here today had not the elections of 2000 and 2004 had not either been: A) Squandered, B) Stolen, or C) All of the above.

I reluctantly concluded that it was that great sucking sound manifested by our well disloved Emperor and his flying monkey minions that created the metaphysics and quantum politics that gave you, President Obama, the empty space to fill with your presence.

There is no polite way to say goodbye to Chimpy, or to Sith Lord Shotgunnus Dickus, or Fredo, or any of their trolls blowing snotballs at passers-by and each other under bridges hither and yon.

Because there is another lesson taught me by my mother which comes to the forefront here. "If you can't say something nice about somebody, then don't say anything at all".

So I'll say something that gives me the greatest of pleasure.

Hello, President Obama . . .

waiting for the switch over . . . part one . . .

2009-01-20T16:40:54Z

Two highlights from Barackstock

The Invocation of Bishop Gene Robinson:

and the theme song for the next few years:

tick, tick, tick . . . .

2009-01-18T17:23:18Z

On the other hand, what I could do with a rhumba motif, $450 , a tub of rhinestones, and a riveter

2009-01-16T20:51:25Z

Debate in the Inaugural Committee . . .

Nolo Contendere, hombre

2009-01-13T18:09:55Z

Thank you ladies and germs; I'd like to begin this press conference, in which I will answer allegations of putting my Senate seat up for bid in order to get enough loot to grease my Panamanian vacation and to buy the greatest hits MP3 of the Free Credit Report dot com Band (can't git enuf of of that pirate hat - yee haw!). Let me first assure everyone here that I would never place such an item up for bid (the seat, not the MP3) without first checking it's fair market value, or at least looking for the original receipt first.

Let me get to the meat of my defense, however, because time waits for no man, or so Wikiquote told me. It's not my fault because I am a product of the generation that began with the election of Ronald Raygunns. If, for example, I had been a product of the Carter era, I'd be a sweater wearing, nail pounding activist dedicated to helping the poor and powerless and yawn. C'mon - wouldn't you rather be a cool kid like Emperor Chimpus Maximus instead of the knit clad policy wonk embodied by Jimmy the C? I thought so.

So follow my canny impeccable logic. When Unca Ron arrived in the Capitol City, he did so by dissing public service in general and sacrifice for the greater good specifically. "Government is the problem", he cooed, and hearts went a-flutter. "Give up stuff you want now to ease the pain of limited resources in the future? Fuggetaboutit - consume, baby, consume!" and knees went a-twitter. 'Ask what you can do for your country' became 'I got mine - where's yours?' and as a culture we took a nice long nap.

Unca Ron patted our furry uni-brows, told us he would take care of everything, and so he did. He gutted the media that might question truth to power by allowing the public airwaves to become full fledged subsidiaries of Corporate America, who brought along their legal teams. And those brainy corporate lawyers lived for two reasons: Maximize profit and limit liability.

Since most everyone who got Unca Ron the gig worked for these folks from the git-go, this mantra of 'Maxi-profit and Mini-liability' was a comfortable and natural fit, as long as one was willing to shed uncomfortable chains of conscience like a sense of shame when confronted by one's acts of social monstrosity.

So we went along our happy path for lo, these many decades, bundling savings and loans and bankrupting retirees and family farmers in the 80s and it was their fault, dammit, because they should have known better than to trust a locally owned savings and loan. Like we were George Fracking Bailey or someone.

I'm not even going to get into the practice pretend wars like Grenada or Nicaragua, because I'm assuming you got your fill with the real pretend war in Iraq. Nuff said, eh?

We have spent the twenty eight years since Unca Ron dragged the flying monkeys into (or back into, if they had served Tricky Dick or Dry Erase Board Gerry) power by engaging in engorging diversions. Whether defined by the use of crack of the growth of cable, America found habits they could claim they couldn't get enough of and so the lot was cast.

A reasonable concern that one should benefit by the fruits of their labors became greed fueled grabs for all the crumbs left over (well, trickled down, but who's quibbling?) rather than asking who was getting the full loaf to begin with. It was that dad blasted gubbmint, we told ourselves, taking our hard earned money. We didn't care that the richest one percenters were getting to keep more because we had that lottery ticket in our pocket and that could be us real $oon.

By the time the Emperor came to the Capitol, we'd gotten fat off of not taking responsibility for our actions or for each other, as long as we could find some else to clean the mess, take the blame or do the time. It was all made so much easier by that decision to drop the sense of shame and replace it with a sense of entitlement. There - that is is such a smarter look on us!

We didn't mind swimming in the same waters as piranhas like Enron, Sub-primes, or Bernie Madoff, because we were all each others peeps and had each others back. Until we didn't and then it was every hominid for themselves. And if someone we took an investment or a title deed from lost their homes, livelihoods or their life savings well it was their own fault, dammit, because they should have known better than to trust their hard earned money with people who wanted to consume, consume, consume. And so it is in my case. I am just doing what I was told to do: get my fill, use it up, leave the lights on and let the night crew clean up. It's not my fault if I don't have to clean it up, right? Listen to anyone from Chimpy to Brownie to Bernie and they'll tell you that.

This is why I should be judged, not on my actions, but on how cocksure I am that I am untouchable. Because I believe in following the lead of Fearless Leader, our Emperor, who hasn't done one thing wrong because there's nothing to see here, folks just move along.

I would like to close by reading yet another British poem, from a writer born Farrokh Bulsara:

"Ive paid my dues -
Time after time -
Ive done my sentence
But committed no crime -
And bad mistakes
Ive made a few
Ive had my share of sand kicked in my face -
But Ive come through

We are the champions - my friends
And well keep on fighting - till the end -
We are the champions -
We are the champions
No time for losers
cause we are the champions - of the world -"

I rest my case.

End of the Year Clearance

2008-12-24T21:04:18Z

The Good Doctor brings greetings to the munchkin elves of humanity now snidling their paths through our stressed planet. As do I, one supposes. It is just that I am distracted by nagging thoughts based upon casual observations. What bemusements might they be, I can hear the delicate teems of readers implore.

The event floating on top is the press conference of our disloved Emperor Chimpus Maximus, where, trying to show what a jolly good country Iraq has become since The US's generosity dismantled it with a big kaboom, he didn't just put lipstick on a pig, he gathered together the shreds of its bloody carcass and fluffed it with talcum powder to freshen it up. The resulting shoe toss has made both global headlines and a windfall for the shoe manufacturer. At least Chimpy can claim credit for making an improvement in one country's economy.

The Lovely lynnaeaLynnaea, watching both his effortless gracefulness in dodging the first shoe and the halfsmirk on his face watching the second shoe head toward him, noted that he dodged the shoe like a man used to having things thrown at him. Among the usual suspects would be injured siblings, wronged girlfriends, and any unfortunates unlucky enough to have to clean up his messes. While this line of logic would suggest a parade down Pennsylvania Avenue, lined broad and deep with citizens armed with nothing more than the casualty lists, unpaid bills, and the Chuckie D's and Stiletto high heels ready for flight, I have in mind a different vision, a dream, if you prefer. Here is an image from that flight of fancy:

Sigh . . . hope continues unabated.

It has also come to my limited attention span that there is a difference between the ways our past and future President respond to babies:

For any interested in following up with Obama's relationship with children, you should stop by Yes We Can Hold Babies. As for our current Occupant in Chief, well . . .

As for the most Paradoxical Story (if not headline) I refer readers to

Just as tragically, it appears that the story may not be all of that and a biscuit, after all. I weep, consarn it, I do, for all hoax dwarfs lost in a similar manner.

A Good Man has made his way to Summerland, and so I sadly dedicate this to my father-in-law, Earl Spiegel.

</lj>

Hark - yo, I said Hark!

2008-12-24T00:38:21Z

Whoever Eric Loy is, he's a mean masta jamma . . .

Do you hear what I hear . . .

2008-12-21T16:33:08Z

The Good Doctor begins, as I oft do, by wishing all who peruse these words a merry solstice, a warm Christmas, and a Jolly Mithras celebration. Now it's time to bring you right down; consider this my present and no need to thank me.

A few days ago, Sherry L. Johnson, the mother of Levi Johnson was arrested on drug charges. Levi, as some wags recall, is the father of Bristol Palin's baby. Bristol is the daughter of Sarah Palin, the winsome, feisty and somewhat challenged Governor of Alaska who seems to have sympathy for all who share her beliefs and a rather expensive eye for clothing.

Governor Palin, bless her heart, is not the focal point of my musings today. Rather, I would focus on the tsk-tsking talking heads who on the left discuss the embarrassment and hypocrisy of the Governatrix and who on the right defend Palin while excoriating the druggies who attempt to bring her down.

I would ask delicate readers to instead contemplate Ms. Johnson's reasons, if indeed she is guilty of the pending charges, for engaging in these actions.

Let me state first that I support legalization of natural substances such as cannabis, though once a natural substance, such as coca leaves or poppies, is processed into cocaine or heroin, it should be regulated by a different set of criteria. Hashish, though it, too, can be considered to be 'processed' would not fall under the consideration I mentioned because the process is a natural by-product which in most cases does not involve the use of chemical processing.

Having said that, it is not the dealing of scheduled drugs causing me to ponder. No, it is the reason Ms. Johnson chose a vocation with poor benefits and poor long term prospects.

Wasilla has been called by Alaksa law enforcement personnel the "Meth capital of Alaska". In the area of Tennessee where I live, meth is also a significant problem. A few years ago, I worked as a reporter for our local paper and worked on a story examining the reasons people would endanger their freedom and theirs and their childrens health. What became clear from the people I interviewed was that the motivation was not greed of a desire to poison the community with an addictive and dangerous controlled substance.

What I found was that people manufactured and distributed math because there were no other jobs available. When you have a family, especially a hungry and cold family, nothing is more important than providing for those people in your heart.

I would also suggest, before we continue, that I come to the observations I offer not from a life lived in an ivory tower. I have known dealers, some of whom I was quite fond of and some whom I would not turn my back on for a nano-second. I have been the victim of crimes committed by addicts and I have seen how substance abuse can ruin lives and potential future livelihoods.

It is all well and fine, as the wise crone Judge Judy would say, to do anything, menial minimum wage work or picking up cans along the road, to make a living. But what does one do when all the other people out of work or underemployed have already picked up the cans available?

What does it say for a culture when people are jailed for trying to do their best against the odds? When bankers and money mangers made four times the average salary from various Ponzi schemes, either from mortgage or investment scams while others had their savings or jobs yanked out unceremoniously from under them?

When liberal commentators focus on the mortification suffered by conservatives and conservatives focus on the need for punishment, the people who are left out are the victims; not just the victims of crimes committed in the name of addiction, there are the victims of failing economies and pontificating windbags who find it easier to look to others for blame than to the political policies that make people feel that there are no other options for them.

Do any of these commentators really think that if provided a job with a living wage that all of these ne'er-do-wells would choose dealing instead? Note the use of the word 'all' in the previous sentence. I would not presume to suggest that all dealers are either Dickensian urchins or money grubbing weasels with no hearts. I would, however suggest that neither one end or the other encompasses the entire subset of dealers.

As we enter the new year, may we all as a people find more compassion for those we typically hold in contempt. And although I am tempted to qualify that statement to exclude those public figures with the last name of Bush, in the spirit of the season I will refrain from doing so.

Ho, ho, ho.

doctor_paradox @ 2008-12-17T10:54:00

2008-12-17T16:57:24Z

From xkcd:

Ya gotta love the classics and new classics . . .

2008-12-16T21:13:42Z

Shoe Tossing: The Animated GIFS

and a happy 238th to Ludvig von . . .

Tis the season . . .

2008-12-10T17:00:41Z

In the spirit of the season and gobsmack tired of the newest low bar for venality and stupidity being set either by Emperor Chimpus Maximus, his trained minions of flying monkeys, or Gov. Rod Blagojevich's apparent audition for 'Cops', may The Good Doctor offer instead this wonderful version of "Stand By Me", made by musicians from around the globe. The video is from a organization dedicated to bringing music and music in schools to the world, Playing For Change

However, if one must engage in other intellectual pursuits, may I bring your focus to this:

Or this:

Who Said It?

Tony Soprano ... or Rod Blagojevich?