Music of the Day: Soul Providers, Encore.

Ralph Nader has resurfaced from the dismal swamp of obscurity and has announced his bid for the presidency in 2008, which will at least give the 57 people who supported Dennis Kucinich someone to vote for this year. Some fear that Nader's candidacy (is that the right word?) will drain off votes from either Mr. Obama or Mrs. Clinton, which then perhaps would ensure another Gore-like defeat, this time by the corporate-controlled John McCain (see all recent hoopla about female lobbyist and McCain for further edification). This is good news, for if it comes true it will provide us with another four years of entertaining Dem-whining about another "stolen" election.

This morning I meant to write a longish piece on Mrs. Obama's senior thesis at Princeton University, my alma mater (NOT!), but after having thought about it some more, it seemed so inconsequential, and so entirely in character for a person of the committed left, that I changed my mind. You can find some excerpts of her thesis at various sites on the internet if you are so inclined--you won't be surprised to learn that she felt alienated from her "liberal" classmates and professors. Which brings up the question: Why embrace liberalism thereafter? It does make one wonder. . . .

Some time ago in this space I wrote about a piece about the yapping and yammering that gets done both on the TeeVee and, increasingly, on the radio by various and sundry "analysts," pundits, experts, and commentators--this morning I again came across this wonderful passage in Dr. Richard Mitchell's 1987 book The Gift of Fire: "The understanding of philosophy that I can best fathom is the one provided by a character in one of Plato's dialogues, the Theatatus. It is a certain Theodorus, a genial old mathematician, who defines philosophy, without intending anything grand and complicated, as the habit of "quietly asking and answering in turn." That "quietly" is very important. THINKING IS A CONVERSATION, NOT A CONFRONTATION, AND IT PROCEEDS BY ARGUMENT, WHICH IS NOT ANYTHING LIKE A QUARREL. It is typical of factionaries. . .the dissolved beliefs and prejudices, the voices of tradition and authority, and the conclusions of my own disorderly thinking, that they are not quiet. They behave like peace marchers and gun collectors whose parades have unfortunately collided. They shout and interrupt. They "ask" only in some peculiar sense, for THEIR ASKING IS A CHALLENGE RATHER THAN A SEARCH FOR UNDERSTANDING. TO THEIR QUESTIONS, THEY DO NOT TRULY EXPECT NEW ANSWERS. AND THEY "ANSWER" NOT BY WALKING ALONG THE LINE OF THE QUESTION, BUT BY BREAKING IT. THEY DO NOT WAIT THEIR TURNS, BUT INTERRUPT WHENEVER THEY FEEL LIKE IT, FOR FEELING IS TO THEM THE GREAT ENABLING PRINCIPLE THAT JUSTICE WOULD BE IN THE WELL-GOVERNED SELF" (emphasis added).

'Nuff said. Have a wonderful Sunday.

AJ

TO LIVE IN FREEDOM'S LIGHT IS THE RIGHT OF MANKIND.

No work at the slaughterhouse for me today; the Great Blizzard of '08 (that's what I'm calling it) has come and gone, but things won't be the same for a while. It's a cold, crisp, sunny morning here, but life is far from normal. Schools are shut down and no one knows when they will re-open, so the kids on the neighboring ranch are up on the roof of the house, shoveling show onto the ground so that the structure doesn't collapse. I'm not going anywhere for a while, as the roads are blanketed in deep, heavy snow and local news reports indicate huge tangles of traffic from minor accidents. All that's left for me today is to ponder the meaning of Michael Moore's call for the murderous Cuban dictator, F. Castro, to be invited to the Oscar ceremony (whenever that might be--I have no idea, nor do I much care).

The corpulent Moore suggested this ploy to boost ratings of the program, but what demographic group of Americans might be drawn to the program for the chance to see the emaciated and cadaverous-looking F. Castro on television? University professors? Marxists? (Ooops, sorry, being redundant there.) Actually, I think it would be a good thing to have F. Castro attend, just to watch the assembled "progressives" fawn over the man who has spent his entire adult life enslaving a people--if that doesn't clarify for the rest of us the "values" of filmdom's "elite," I don't know what will. Perhaps Moore can get a two-fer and have Hugo Chavez show up. That should increase viewership by six or seven more folks. . . .

AJ

TO LIVE IN FREEDOM'S LIGHT IS THE RIGHT OF MANKIND.

MLB is home, finally, after eight days in the local hospital. She received very good care, the staff was universally cheerful and helpful (if sometimes inappropriately loud), and the doctors were thoughtful, efficient, and attentive. And, I heard, the food was good. The pneumonia, bacterial or viral, we're not sure which, is in retreat, but we're still bombaring it with various therapies and remedies, plus rest and relaxation. It's hard to rest, or relax, in hospital, so home will provide those opportunities, we hope.

But now it's time for me to dole out thanks to those who helped me stumble through the last eight or nine days without collapsing. In no paraticular order, huge thanks to: Dr. Phil and Debbie H.; Boyd and Donna G.; RB.; CLG.; Christy and Ralph D.; Cindy B. (who will soon be here to provide friendship, conversation, and some TLC that's above my pay grade); and all the other wonderful folks who sent cards, plants, flowers, good wishes, good thoughts, and prayers to either God or the gods (all of which were appreciated).

Oh yeah, and big thanks to Max the Wonder Dog. He was patient with me and didn't bug the hell out of me--and you should have seen him when his mother hit the door. He was one happy dog!

AJ

TO LIVE IN FREEDOM'S LIGHT IS THE RIGHT OF MANKIND.

Dr. Phil loaned me a book the other day, the title of which is Leanings: The Best of Peter Egan from Cycle World Magazine. Dr. Phil is a motorcyclist, I am not; at one point in my life, after returning from Vietnam, I bought a Honda 350 motorcycle which I thought I would ride to and from various places in the great southwestern desert where I had been stationed to finish out my four-year stint in the military. I was a sap and bought a bike that was probably broken before I tried to take it on more than a short ride or two around the base. After that, I sold the bike when one of the patients on my ward, a fellow who had his lower leg amputated, told me he lost his leg as a result of a motorcycle accident on the freeway in Phoenix, Arizona.
Goodbye bike. I guess I have always been a conservative; losing a leg seemed like a high price to pay for cruising on the back of a motorcycle. I rode with my friend and fellow Vietnam vet Perez, but never got up solo again. In the spring of occasional years, I get the urge, which I usually stifle quickly; I nearly destroyed my right leg falling off of a nearly stationary mountain bike six years ago, so riding a motorcycle would likely result in, at least, disfigurement or at worst, a fiery death.

But the point of this is that the book is eminently readable and it is a light-hearted distraction from the more serious events that have come down the pike here. MLB has been hospitalized for a rip-roaring case of pneumonia, so I have been spending lots of time motoring home, to see to Max the Wonder Dog, and then motoring back to the hospital, to provide some cheap entertainment and diversion for MLB, who is flat on her back, IV's flowing, oxygen in nose, and discomfort a given for the near term. All of the other stuff I usually read and write about has, for the most part, been relegated to the nether regions of my tiny brain.

And I spoke with a friend who is having stem-cell transplants at a fancy big-time hospital in another part of the country, Dr. Phil's wife is home with some evil respiratory crud, so my mind is reeling with medical terminology, thoughts of suffering of others, and my mood has descended, briefly I hope, to the level of half-funk. So, before the funk gets any deeper or funkier, I'm going to stop and get back to humorous and light and sweet stories of motorcycles and adventures I'll never take. More later, when the mood lightens and my sunny bride brings her smile and her heart home--Max and I miss her.

AJ

TO LIVE IN FREEDOM'S LIGHT IS THE RIGHT OF MANKIND.

After seeing this morning's news reports about the devastation and loss of life from yesterday's tornado activity, I thought to myself, "Maybe I'll write a facetious blog post about how the Bush/Cheney administration caused the tornados." But, I had to go to work and then other things intervened when I returned home, so I never got around to the idea.

I was, however, just reminded of it when I read that the Tall Gas-Bag Bloviating Senator from Massachusetts today actually said, sort of, in his typical rambling, nonsensical way, that global warming was responsible for the deadly tornados. So far as I know, there is no evidence to support this idea, but that wouldn't prevent Senator Kerry from saying it, now would it? I am amazed that he didn't blame the current administration for the devastation, but I suppose there's still time for that in the next couple of days.

AJ

TO LIVE IN FREEDOM'S LIGHT IS THE RIGHT OF MANKIND (no exceptions this time.)