Calculated Risk

Michael Moore sat down to discuss his book, 'Dude, Where's My Country?' with Brian Lamb on C-span tonight.

hahahaha.

Yeah, it was great.
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I should have been taking notes but then, it wasn't like he was defending a P.H.D.

Man, that's like being called to the Principals office, meeting Brian Lamb. It looked to me like Moore was losing weight the first ten minutes. I about reached out to adjust the color on my set too, because he was so pale. And his throat. Gulp, gulp.
Moore was trying to swallow and relax but he couldn't, at least for the first ten minutes. Then as time went on he relaxed, with a sort of 'never mind that, what about health care?' approach. Lamb is a genius and allowed that that to pass.
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I'm sure there will be a great deal of commentary in the blogosphere over the next week. Moore squirmed, he lied, he contradicted himself, he was ridiculous. After a half-hour he became more confident and more entertaining as he realized Brian Lamb wasn't going to ride his ass.

When Moore said that Bush had argued that Saddam was partly responsible for 9-11, and that this argument was proven a lie, Lamb didn't bother to ask 'when did President Bush ever say that?'.

Lamb is thorough. He makes you talk. He lets you hang yourself.
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Moore became comfortable after he'd established his working-class Flint credentials, but this was with a lot of regrettable insinuations that 'blue collar' people can't be expected to be overly bright.

Once Brian Lamb had him comfortable, and started quoting passages of his book to him, Moore let out several high pitched giggles for the rest of the night:
That's satire, Brian!

Now there I'm serious, Brian!
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Moore said that before his first movie hit, 'Roger and Me', he'd never made a paycheck over 8000 dollars. In the next breath he said he'd averaged 12,000. Or, well, 17,000.
He was living at his folks. He dropped out of his sophomore year in college for some silly reason. Lack of parking space at the 'commuter college' in Flint...
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I learned a lot tonight, but nothing to change my mind.

Moore was the first 18 year old to ever be elected to office, back in the early '70s (to a school board? I missed that).

Just a kid with a great love for his country, and an urgent desire to turn it away from Republican Evil. After all, it was Flint, Michigan, so you have to forgive me for being a boob. You don't think I was some sophisticate like the people on the West coast!
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I wish Brian had asked 'but weren't you the editor of Mother Jones magazine?'

Average Flint my ass.
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What struck me most during the interview was Moore's declaration that Bush found 911 a 'bonanza' for political gain. I can't quote here before the transcript, but it was noteworthy how many of the old talking points are gone now.

It's tough, after you've opposed the overthrow of the Taliban and Saddam. I mean, what to say?

Bush used 9-11 to support Alaskan oil drilling. And jerryfalwelljohnashcroftetc are evil.

No more 'it's for oil' argument. No more colonialism argument. Moore didn't even try to tie the war to our treatment of American Indians, and he didn't mention Custer.

His thesis makes a hullabaloo about our historic connection/ ties with the Saudis, of course, but that fails as a partisan issue. It fails even more since the Bush Doctrine is precisely addressing that issue.
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Michael Moore is probably the most hated person on the internet, after Ted Rall.

He had to account for himself. I think that, confronted by the school-master, he revealed himself as a show-man who's dying in some pathetic, Willy Loman/doomed salesman sort of way. If not Huey Long.

What bothers me is that he performs so well, with his book-tours filling stadiums with 10,000 people.
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That's what bothers Lamb, too. One of his very few confrontational questions was : what will you do with this power?

Moore blanched, and it was a wonderful moment. He seemed to pause and wonder if he wasn't becoming Jim Jones. Or Lenin or Stalin or Hitler. Then suddenly he was yelling that education polls show that youngsters don't even know where Iraq is! "We should make a law! You can't bomb a place if you can't find it on the map!"

Jesus that's pathetic. But mind you, Michael Moore is from Flint Michigan, so forgive him for being an a hole.
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All in all, I think the charges of plagiarism, fakery, and elitism will stick to Michael Moore. The blogs will prevail.

But natch, it ought to worry us that he's filling stadiums.

It's very difficult pulling down a working class hero who's in favor of peace, love, and a free food and drug administration.

Just a question

Everyone from the New York Times to National Review agrees that we f*cked up in Afghanistan during the 1980's.

We abandoned Afghanistan then, according to the conventional wisdom.

My question is, how exactly do people figure that after bank-rolling their liberation, we're somehow all the more responsible to babysit them and see them through to a civil society? Yes, I understand that would have been best, but at the time, how does this moral arithmetic work?

We didn't trick or fool the Afghans into resisting Soviet oppression. Their resistance was natural, and we helped them drive the Soviets out.

Why apologize? The U.S.A. is not imperial. We usually itch to get out of foreign entanglements, not to stay.
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I think the loyal opposition here actually regrets that we sent aid to defeat the communists. That naive humanitarianism which buttressed genocidal communism is alive and well. Their argument now is sort of childish, like "ha! look what you got in the Soviet's place." But this loyal opposition is the same that would cry bloody murder if we'd tried to interfere in Afghanistan's politics after that war.

It's probably true that our politicians could never have persuaded the voting populace to keep pouring money into that rubble-strewn, ancient land anyway. It would take 911 to persuade us that Islamo-fascism was uniquely dangerous.

Still, my question: why, after helping the Afghans win their war against the Soviets, should we have felt more obliged to that country?

Yes, the latent effect was marvelous. Eastern Europe and all the countries of the Soviet Union were liberated (to some degree).

That doesn't mean we didn't do the Afghans a great favor.

I don't see that we let them down. On the contrary: by some twisted fundamentalist zealotry didn't they declare war on us?
Moog writes on her blog:

"well, what are we doing to welcome Bush into our lovely anti war country?

i have Saturday morning free, so i could throw something then...like a petrol bomb....

are the CIA letting people near him, or do we have to use remote control missiles?"

I know this is tongue in cheek, but the sentiment isn't. I don't understand how youthful idealism could go so completely astray. What happened to courage in the defense of liberty? How can you lament the leadership that over-threw the Taliban?

What do these modern-day Yippies stand for, anyway? Legalized drugs? Abortion? Free health care?

Those are all 'liberation' issues for spoiled brats. To many of them, liberty means free services. (No, I don't mean to put words in your mouth, J.T., this is a rant in general). Those regimes which used to require women to stay indoors are sacred, though, because they're from a different culture. Fundamentalism is fine in Afghanistan, but in the West even a sermon against partial-birth abortion gets you a life-sentence in Lefty ridicule. Never mind that our Billy Grahams would never dream of challenging our Bill Of Rights.

I know this is a simplistic analysis, but I think I'm dealing with simplistic people. I think this all has a lot to do with rock and roll and hip - hop. I think it's about the need to be popular, and that ignorance and emotionalism wins you a first-down.

A few years ago, I couldn't get enough, reading about the total humiliation of the posers who ignored the evils of Nazism and Stalinism because they were 'anti-war'. Some politicians simply died of shame after Churchill was proved correct. I wanted to read more and more about this aftermath because I have a cruel streak a mile wide and reaches across the Atlantic.

It's no fun watching a re-run, though. I prefer instead to go back and read those polls which show that 60% of college age kids support Bush.
The jingle is "Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee".

All these years I've thought it was "Nobody does it like Sara Lee".

Wouldn't that be better?
I deleted a ugly political post yesterday. Probably not soon enough. I should know better than to spew like that.

Still an impulse here, though. Bush's trip to London tomorrow is worrisome. The reports I hear make it sound like the Brits will stage 1968 style riots.

It's natural to be 'anti-war'. The passion is understandable. But so are the passions behind the overthrow of a murderous dictator.

I don't think most Iraqis are very fond of the people who sent human shields in an effort to prevent the war.

I visit some British blogs. Everyone seems in a competition to express their contempt for Bush, and their enthusiasm for the protests.

I know all the arguments from the left. I hear them all on C-span and as they list their points, I'm saying 'wrong on the facts', 'illogical'. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. You've struck out. Try again.

The only compelling arguments I've ever heard against the war were of the nervous, fearful variety: that the WMDs would be used, (or smuggled out of the country) and that terrorism would increase. The oil wells would be set ablaze, Israel would be attacked, there would be civil war. Thankfully we were courageous. There is a small insurgency, and of course it isn't directed only at soldiers: they attack the Red Cross and the U.N. aid workers too. But we know Islamic terrorists had a blood lust long before Bush was in office, and before the war. Appeasement doesn't work.

Among the most ridiculous anti-war arguments is the claim that Bush 'changes his story' about why we went to war. As if having several reasons showed some inconsistency. As if Bush didn't marshal them all during the pre-war debate, and his pro-democracy idealism was only set forth last week as a last resort. (In June of 2002 I posted many times about his speech outlining this grand vision).

Last night at the Jefferson/Jackson event in Des Moines, the lies and rhetorical sleights of hand were painfully obvious. I'm convinced the candidates don't believe their own words. I wonder if the cheering DNC audience were also deluding themselves. For instance, this complaint that we haven't caught bin Laden or Saddam. How ludicrous! As if this war is about catching a couple of fugitives. Saddam's regime and the Taliban are no more, but Gerhardt calls our president 'a miserable failure'. Who actually believes that? Anyone?? Really???

My deleted post basically came to this: 'anti-war' protesters are for the most part childish phonies. There may be a few genuine pacifists among them, but pacifists do not crank up the level of hatred in the world like these people do.
I think this goes back to a stylish '60s romanticism, and that a pied-piper-lemming phenomen is at work here.

I'm tempted to counter this with a screed in favor of the Vietnam and Korean Wars. Or to post something mocking John Lennon's 'Imagine'. ...

I like Al Sharpton's old chant now: "No justice, no peace".

I should start calling myself a liberal now. Our current crop of anti-war protesters are certainly not liberal.

They've Split. To Church

I don’t know how they can stay up so late partying, then roll out of bed and make it to early services. Especially Mr. Toad. He usually has three cowlicks standing straight up, before noon. Like me. Maybe Mom just licks/spits in her hand and smoothes them down.

Its strange when complete silence surprises. Three ticks of cognitive dissonance and then a what? What? What? Nothing. Astonishment in the deep woods. No one is here. No lights on, no TV playing anywhere. They’ve been taken up! Again!

Also new to the blog-scroll

This Depleted Life.

It's a disturbing blog-title and full of stick-man 1970's graphics that remind you of psycho-pharmaceutical tracts. Apropos to OATA, I guess.

But I should add that it also seems very friendly and intelligent.

Bi-lingual to boot!

I'll call her Jo.

She's a terrific writer. I believe she is also a paid columnist somewhere, but I'm not sure. You can tell that she should be , anyway.

I've realized how anxious I am to be drawn back from my sorta knee-jerk Republican extremism. Jo can be very forthright with her opinions but she's no ideologue.

Anyway, she'll be a daily read here.

Community Standards

It’s five minutes round-trip to the Milky Way for drinks and cigarettes. Three minutes if there’s no one in line. Rarely, a half-hour if I end up behind some moron who’s surveying the smorgasbord of lottery tickets. (“Um. Give me one with the balloons. One with the cowboy. One of those with the stars…do you know any slow or special people?”)

I mean it’s a very short trip. Last night I timed it to make sure it wasn’t an hour. I want to convince myself that my trips to the store are no big deal.

But still. When I get back in to the house I’m out of breath and I’m giving thankful prayers, like I’ve been through a terrible ordeal.
I guess my nerves are just raw.

‘Nerves’. I watched a 1932 Edward G. Robinson movie the other night. He played a skyscraper riveter having a nervous breakdown. He couldn’t climb those heights anymore, they made his head swim. The doctor made a house call and said something like “Oh I know it’s very real to you, but it’s still psychological. Nerves are tricky, you have to keep a strong grip on yourself or you’re through. Let them take over once and you never forget. Here are some sedatives.”

Everyone goes to the Milky Way. I’ve probably written about this before.

I could be standing in line there with a 12 pack, get a tap on the shoulder and find my grade-skool music teacher there offering a hug (she is a sprite, Mrs. Davis). Or maybe the mayor will walk in and be all mayoral to me, while I just remember him as a squirrelly kid in 7th grade.

I attended AA here for a few years, and chaired a meeting for six months. It doesn’t happen often, but I’ve had complete strangers approach me and ask, “Aren’t you a friend of Bill’s?”

Admittedly, I have a low threshold for trauma.
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Some encounters make me feel like I've been shot like a cannon-ball into the future. Sometimes I marvel that I've had a good life, other times I feel like I've landed with a sickening thud.

Friends like Lunkhead can get across to me how I waste time worrying. And in retrospect life always looks good, except that my anticipation of the future always produced needless emo-seizures.

What's on my to-do list now? A long stubborn wait for inspiration.

I wish the yellow pages listed cults and communes.

Actually, I still want to go to the 4th floor with the mental patients. Not detox, with it's rote 12-step training.

I mean with the sweet people who just became a little over-whelmed...

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