Music of the Day: Bob Baldwin, I Wanna Be Where You Are

RATING: SSW (Somewhat Serious With Occasional Flashes of Wit)

Beverage of the Day: B&B

Sunday while President Bush was about to start a press conference in Baghdad, a 29 year old Iraqi reporter threw his shoes at the President. He missed. Twice. President Bush showed some pretty spiffy cat-like reflexes, but the most notable thing was the Iraqi dude’s rag-arm—he threw like a first-grade girl. I think it will be another generation of hanging out with Marines before the Iraqis show any prowess with throwing stuff like baseballs or footballs. Or shoes.

Our sweet little doggie has drawn blood twice recently—she took a chunk outta’ my right ear the other morning (it was my fault—I shouldn’t have been in the floor) and another good size chunk outta’ the top of my left hand later in the day. No stitches required, but that latter wound bled for a while and eventually required a butterfly bandage. Her teeth are, alternatively, like razors or needles (depending on the kind of wound and pain she wishes to inflict) and I gotta’ be more careful when playing with her.

In the old days, Chicago was known for the powerful stench coming from the stockyards; these days, Chicago is known for the powerful stench coming from the offices of various Democrat politicians in that city. Having worked around slaughterhouses and stockyards throughout my life, I much prefer that stench to the other kind; Chicago’s a great city, we love visiting the city, but I’m glad I don’t have to live there.

If I had an extra $17,000 lying around doing nothing I’d buy one of those cool-looking three-wheel Can-Am Spyders for myself for Christmas. It looks like the only “motorcycle” I could ride and not have to worry about falling off of; if you’re feeling especially generous, I really like the red model.

We have our first snowfall of the winter; MLB is completely freaked out by snowy/icy roads, so I think she’ll be hunkering down for the next couple of days, hangin’ with Maylie, doing Mom and Baby Doggie things together. I expect that they’ll get through one of the Kaplan SAT-prep books by the time the sun comes out again later this week.

AJ

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

Music of the Day: Bill Charlap, One Morning in May

RATING: S (Serious, With A Canine Twist)

Beverage of the Day: Gatorade (see below)

The new puppy, Maylie, is a great little doggie! We hope that, before too long, she’ll sleep through the night—this is especially important for MLB as she is the Human Jack-in-the-Box who has been leaping out of bed many times in the middle of the night to take sweet little Maylie OUTSIDE to pee. Right now we don’t want her to soil her little bed, so for MLB it’s up and down, in and out, up and down, in and out, ad infinitum, for the foreseeable future. As for me, I’m about half-oblivious to what’s happening thanks to (recently) a little bout of stomach flu (which accounts for the Gatorade consumption as noted into today’s Beverage of the Day), a very painful and stiff lower back, and a damned good set of earplugs; I can sleep at least for a few hours at a stretch before my brain alerts me to bladder-related events taking place within not too many feet of me. I know this is profoundly unfair, so I try to compensate by being the Poop Picker-Upper. Also, I seem to be Maylie’s biggest chew-toy, even though sweet little Maylie took a small chunk outta’ MLB’s left thigh this morning—no malice, just being a puppy, just being a mouthy little puppy.

So how crazy have we gotten? Pretty crazy. We put her in the crate in our bedroom at night and turn on the little stereo next to her crate—she needs, we rationalized to each other, some peaceful music to help her sleep, so we fire up the Enya CD for her as we put her in her rack for the evening; we’ll start the Mozart later this week—exposure to classical music will help her with the SAT’s and the MENSA test. Her other chew toys include (no surprise here) a Dunlop tennis ball (from my collection of 10,000 or so used, flat, dirty old tennis balls), a multi-legged creature of some type from Dr. Phil and Deb, a soft bone emblazoned with the legend “Bite Me” on it and a “squeaker” inside it, another multi-legged creature that looks a bit like a monkey with a big snout or a toucan with four legs and a squeaker inside, something called a Kong (which can be loaded with treats—this qualifies not so much as a toy as a job, but she’s a willing employee in digging the treat outta’ that thing), a couple of old hand-towels, and a USA Olympics blanket. Donna G. brought Maylie some kind of throwing device that flings a heavier-than-usual slobber-proof tennis ball; this long-handled doodad means no bending to pick up the ball for another launching—we haven’t tried this yet, as Maylie isn’t quite ready for parks with lots of other people and/or dogs, but I suspect that in spring this device will get much use.

And of course we play with her as much as we can; this is easier, right now, for MLB than it is for me. I’m having a helluva time getting down on the floor to play—actually, it’s more accurate to say that I can get down on the floor without too much pain, but getting up is half-brutal. Damn that old gravity and the tiny little opening in the spinal column for all those nerve-thingies!

But, back to the title of this screed—that was one of my longer digressions and I apologize—my 2008 reading list. I must admit that Maylie is only the most recent distraction from doing much less reading this year than I had planned on and hoped for—I still read Commentary the moment it arrives at the ranch, and the same goes for Policy Review and the Claremont Review of Books, but I have to admit that my reading habits this year have suffered from a distinct dearth of dedication (notice the snappy alliteration there, AJ-fans). Honestly, I meant to lay out for you what I have read this year, or am in the process of reading—I know there isn’t much time in the year left to finish all of the partial-reads, but I’m plugging away on (here it gets ugly) about six books at once, some with greater success than others. But here’s the deal—my reading list is on my other laptop, in the library, and neither MLB nor I have spent more than 20 minutes total, combined, in there since the arrival of You Know Who. And I don’t feel like leaving her alone while I muck around in the old laptop to find that list—so maybe some day in the not too distant future I’ll write something about my 2008 reading list, but for now, I’m the Doggie Supervisor. ‘Nuff said.

AJ

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

Music of the Day: Steely Dan, Hey Nineteen

RATING: S (Serious-But With A Canine Twist)

Beverage of the Day: Modelo Especial

What day is this? Monday? Tuesday? Yeah, that sounds right. Time has lost meaning, or I’m just confused. Pleasantly confused, that is—everyone who reads AJ’s blog knows that in September we lost good ol’ Max the Wonder Dog (RIP), our twelve-year old Bull Terrier. As I have noted here a number of times, we really missed Max and all of his special Max-idiosyncrasies. Go to the gallery, to the right of this space; just look at that dog’s face—he was one of a kind, his own dog, an independent cuss, a handful (or more) to take on a walk (or, in some cases, a handful who took his humans on his own version of walkies). Ol’ Max will always have a special place in our hearts.

But Saturday our lives changed again; MLB connected with some nice folks about 100 miles away who had a litter of Labradoodles and they had one left, a little honey-colored female who showed more Lab than Poodle (yes, it’s a “hybrid” dog, bred from a Golden Labrador and a Standard [not French!] Poodle). So we have become parents again, this time to twelve-week old Maylie (photos forthcoming—as soon as one of us gets enough sleep to manipulate a camera). For you literary types out there, the name Maylie may sound familiar—she was the character (Mrs. Maylie) in Oliver Twist who took in young Oliver and treated him well in the famous novel by Charles Dickens and now that she has joined our family, I will have the opportunity to use the word “Dickensian” in my blog, probably for the first and only time.

What a love she is; she has a wonderful disposition, she’s learning (very quickly) about the procedures for housebreaking, in a mere 48 hours she has learned to sit before coming back in the house and before receiving treats, and at this rate we’ll have to start a freakin’ college fund for her. I’m thinking she might pass the MENSA test, which of course means that in a year or so she’ll be a perfect candidate for a spot in the Obama cabinet.

Sorry. That was a cheap shot. Besides, she’s no Democratic lapdog, I can tell you that right now—she’s really smart, has four great long legs, and she’s pretty, so already she’s got Hillary beat, especially in the leg-department.

Sorry. That was a cheap shot.

Right now we are the Zombie Puppy People and we are suffering from what I am calling New Puppy Sleep Deprivation Syndrome (NPSDS for you acronym-driven-types out there). It’s okay, though; if we can hang in for another few days, runnin’ on empty, she should have the hang of the whole sleep-through-the-night-without-peeing-in-the-crate thing.

So, here’s what I’ve noticed about having a puppy—and this may sound a little weird—I feel more human. What does that mean? Without getting too sappy or mushy or whatever, I feel a heightened sense of emotionality since ol’ Maylie joined the family. I’d like to write more about this now, but I have to dry the dog-pee that’s on the left thigh of my sweat pants—we were sitting on the glider in the sun and. . .well, you get the picture.

AJ

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

Music of the Day: Alex Bugnon, Southern Living

Beverage of the Day**: Agavero

RATING: S (Serious)

Obviously I am reprising a theme here—the recent terrorist attacks in Mumbai (formerly Bombay), although I guess these guys weren’t really “terrorists,” they were, if you read most of the main-stream media reports on this, mere “gunmen” or mere “militants” (perhaps in the same way that Mr. Pol Pot was an urban population-density-control specialist).

Wait.

Listen!

Do you hear the music and the tap-dancing in the background? If you don’t, you should. Anyway, my last few posts here dealt again with Islamic terrorists, including the nice piece by Mr. Hitchens. Here’s a portion of an article I discovered this morning; the piece is by Abul Kasem, an ex-Muslim who is the author of hundreds of articles and several books on Islam including, Women in Islam . He was a contributor to the book Leaving Islam – Apostates Speak Out as well as to Beyond Jihad: Critical Views From Inside Islam. His latest contribution is in Why We Left Islam published by WND Books.

“Still, the question remains: why kill at all? Intelligence agencies, journalists, terrorism analysts, and policy makers have presented a wide assortment of theories. Their analyses range from Palestine, to Kashmir, to Indian communal riots (never mind that India has had such riots almost every month), to immoral Bollywood movie stars and the un-Islamic attire worn by Indian women. Still others insist that the unmet grievances of the local Muslims are the true source of the Mumbai terror.

These analysts will blame anything for Islamic terrorism except Islam itself. Even when the jihadists loudly proclaim that they are waging war for Islam, these pundits blithely dismiss religion as a cause. When the Islamist killers recite Koranic verses to justify their actions, these scholars and terrorism experts maintain, improbably, that the jihadists have simply distorted the peaceful religion of Islam.

If there is a lesson to be drawn from the rubble in Mumbai, it is that Islamist terrorism will not disappear in the near future. It will take time, massive military and non-military efforts, before the threat is nullified. But it is difficult to see how the threat of Islamic terrorism can be confronted when so many in the West refuse to believe that it even exists.”

Well, that does give us something to think about, doesn’t it? If we refuse to acknowledge it, or insist that “pulling back” is a solution to a problem that we cannot even properly call by name (i.e., terrorism), we will continue to face random murders, hijackings, explosions, and perhaps someday in the not too distant future, a chemical or biological or nuclear attack from some “militants.” Maybe then we can actually begin calling them terrorists again—if we’re alive long enough to call them anything.

AJ

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

**The Beverage of the Day will be featured throughout the Christmas and New Year seasons. Here’s lookin’ at ya’. . . .

Music of the Day: Red Hot Ray Brown Trio, Have You Met Miss Jones?

RATING: (S) Serious

I don't know how often readers of Average Joe click on my suggested sites (to the right of this space), but I check them regularly and today I came across the piece you will find below, by Christopher Hitchens. Please read this.

Our Friends in Bombay

We must stand by our most important ally.
By Christopher Hitchens
Posted Monday, Dec. 1, 2008, at 11:15 AM ET

It's in human nature to mention any personal connection when offering solidarity, so I shall just briefly say that on my first visit to India, in 1980, I stayed at the Taj Mahal in Bombay, visited the "Gateway of India" and took a boat to Elephanta Island, toured the magnificent railway station, had my first diwali festival at Juhu beach, and paced the amazing corniche that was still known by some—after its dazzling string of lights—as "Queen Victoria's necklace." Wonderful though some of the 19th-century British architecture can be, Bombay is quintessentially an Indian achievement, and an achievement of all its peoples from the Portuguese-speaking Catholic Goans to the Zoroastrian Parsis. (The Jewish disciples of Rabbi Schneerson may be relatively recent arrivals, but there have been Baghdad Jews in Bombay since records were kept, and Jews in India since before Christ, and not until this week has a Jewish place in India been attacked for its own sake, so to speak.)

When Salman Rushdie wrote, in The Moor's Last Sigh in 1995, that "those who hated India, those who sought to ruin it, would need to ruin Bombay," he was alluding to the Hindu chauvinists who had tried to exert their own monopoly in the city and who had forcibly renamed it—after a Hindu goddess—Mumbai. We all now collude with this, in the same way that most newspapers and TV stations do the Burmese junta's work for it by using the fake name Myanmar. (Bombay's hospital and stock exchange, both targets of terrorists, are still called by their right name by most people, just as Bollywood retains its "B.")

This may seem like a detail, but it isn't, because what's at stake is the whole concept of a cosmopolitan city open to its own citizens and to the world—a city on the model of Sarajevo or London or Beirut or Manhattan. There is, of course, a reason they attract the ire and loathing of the religious fanatics. To the pure and godly, the very existence of such places is a profanity. In a smaller way, the same is true of the Islamabad Marriott hotel, where I also used to stay. It was a meeting point and crossroads for foreigners. It had a bar where the Pakistani prohibition rules did not apply. Its dining rooms and public spaces featured stylish Asian women who showed their faces. And so it had to be immolated, like any other Sodom or Gomorrah.

I hope I am not alone in finding the statements about Bombay from our politicians to be anemic and insipid, and the media coverage of the disastrous and criminal attack too parochially focused on the fate of visiting or resident Americans. India is emerging in many ways as our most important ally. It is a strong regional counterweight to Russia and China. Not to romanticize it overmuch, it is a huge and officially secular federal democracy that is based, like the United States, on ethnic and confessional pluralism. Its political and economic and literary echelons speak English better than most of us do. Its parliament in New Delhi—the unbelievably diverse and dignified Lok Sabha—was viciously attacked by Islamist gangsters and nearly destroyed in December 2001, a date which ought to have made more Americans pay more attention rather than less. Since then, Bombay has been assaulted multiple times and the Indian Embassy in Afghanistan blown up with the fairly obvious cross-border collusion of the same Pakistani forces who are helping in the rebirth of the Taliban.

It would be good to hear from the president and the president-elect that we regard attacks on the fabric and society of India with very particular seriousness, as assaults on a close friend that was battling al-Qaida long before we were. In response, it should be emphasized, our military and financial and nuclear and counterinsurgency cooperation with New Delhi will not be given a lower profile but a very much higher one. The people of India need to hear this from us, as do the enemies of India, who are our sworn enemies, too.

The inevitable question arises: Did our nominal ally Pakistan have a hand in this atrocity? In one sense, to ask the question is to answer it. Whether we refer to al-Qaida "proper," or to any of the armed Kashmiri formations that have lately been mentioned, we find some pre-existing connection to Pakistan's Inter-Services Intelligence agency, or ISI. Another conceivable suspect, the former Bombay crime lord Dawood Ibrahim, wanted by the Indian authorities on suspicion of blowing up the Bombay stock exchange and killing 300 civilians in 1993, has long been a fugitive from justice living safely in Pakistan's main port of Karachi. Not a bad place from which to organize an amphibious assault team that acted as if it had been trained by serious military professionals.

Contrasted with the gruesome efficiency and premeditation of the murder tactics is the pathetic amateurism and cynicism of the propaganda side. In my boyhood geography lessons I learned that the Deccan is a plateau and plain, not a region or an identity. It is part of India's deep interior; its very diverse inhabitants would not in any case arrive in Bombay by high-speed boat! It's rather encouraging in a way that this is the best the jihadists can do by way of a fake cover story, but perhaps there will again be enough Western saps—as with the attacks on the United States and Britain and Turkey and Tunisia—to claim that none of this would have happened if not for the foreign policy of Bush and Blair. (I do not hold my breath, but as of the time of writing, this moronic faction has—amazingly—not yet been heard from.) An impressive thing about India is the way in which it has almost as many Muslim citizens, who live with greater prospects of peace and prosperity, as does Pakistan. This comity and integration is one of the many targets of the suicide killers, and it is another reason why firm, warm solidarity with India is the most pressing need of the present hour.

Christopher Hitchens is a columnist for Vanity Fair and the Roger S. Mertz media fellow at the Hoover Institution in Stanford, Calif.

Copyright 2008 Washingtonpost.Newsweek Interactive Co. LLC

Thanks for reading.

AJ

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