All posts by Joe

In the bag.

It’s going to take how long? Are you serious? What the hell, Urich – can’t this tub move any faster than that? We’re only talking about 17 light years.

Oh, man… if only there were a “first class” in intergalactic space! Everything… and I mean everything is coach. Urich, our somewhat fanatical pilot (I think he may be the only surviving German kamikaze, but that’s just a guess), tells me that we’ve got quite a ways yet to go bobbing along here in the trackless void. We’re all resorting to the stuff we do when there’s nothing to do. Matt catalogues his bird species. John flies virtual airplanes across the Pacific. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) plays with his diode collection (the Frenchman thing wore off after a few days, thank goddess). The Lincolns argue about the war with Mexico. I could go on, but … you get the idea. And what do I do? Well, not much… I strum my broken down Hagstrom III guitar and reach into the mailbag for whatever might be interesting.

Let’s see what we got here… This one’s from some guy who calls himself “Muchuu”, over in jolly old England, who was commenting on our new single, High Horse:

Not my cup of Texan tea

Lyrics – Blimey! Not a fan. Is this in the wrong category?

Arrangement – simple and effective. But predicatble, no?

Sounds like – not sure. Rather not know :-)…No, don’t know really. Some parts Ween I guess…

Not a fan, unfortunately. Sorry!

Gotcha, “Muchuu”. Yep, “simple and effective” is what we were going for there. Though I wouldn’t go filling your cup with “Texan Tea” – we put that stuff in our tractor engines (yee-haw). Hopefully we can count you amongst our fans one day (you could be the second!), but until then, Muchuu-s gracias, senor!

Here’s one from some dude named “Benadian”… same topic…

It’s fun. Who do you sound like? Any kind of country music I suppose, I’m not as well-versed in that field. Now that the synth solo has come in, and considering your genre, I would say you sound like Ween’s 12 Golden Country Greats album. But that was way more original! This just sounds like any old band that decided to make a joke country song.Lyrics… just sound like any old country lyrics. I dunno what else to say. Good you proved you can do it though!

Well, what the hell, man… that’s the second Ween reference I’ve heard in, I don’t know, five minutes? But I guess you’re right, “Benadian” … we sure proved we can write a goofy country song. Never thought I’d see the day!

Okay, time to do something else. What’s the man-sized tuber been up to during this long, boring voyage? Well, he’s been trying his hand at video editing. In fact, he put together a little video for High Horse and posted it on YouTube… which you can view at the Tuber’s YouTube page – www.youtube.com/mansizedtuber – or on the high horse page: www.big-green.net/highhorse . Check it out … then send us some mail. As you can see, we’ve got a lot of time on our hands!

Closing time.

I expect you saw one or more of the closing performances put in by our erstwhile commander in chief. The last, his farewell address to the nation, was a flaccid medley of his most oft-repeated themes, a bit tired-sounding after eight years, but drafted semi-competently for Bush by whoever is left to do these things at the White House. This was Bush the product – the visionary warrior-prince with the wry “by crackee” half-grin and glint of optimism. For my money, the final press conference provided a far more honest portrait of the man. This is the Bush we really knew – arrogant and dismissive; an obvious imbecile who talks down to you; a man constitutionally incapable of admitting error and for all appearances utterly delighted with the very thought of himself. For him, the presidency is an intensely personal experience – so much so that he seems to measure every trial he put the nation through by its effect on his demeanor.

It was a pretty amazing performance. I wonder what any sane psychiatrist (i.e. not Charles Krauthammer) would make of Bush’s decision to term the absence of WMD in Iraq as a “disappointment”? Yes… how disappointing it must have been for him personally when the facts on the ground failed to conspire with the fictions he and his administration feverishly spun around that sorry nation. Here is what he had to say about his critics:

“I view those who get angry and yell and say bad things and, you know, all that kind of stuff, it’s just a very few people in the country. I don’t know why they get angry. I don’t know why they get hostile.”

I hardly need to comment on this, but what seems most striking is his depiction of people’s anger as baseless. He has obviously made millions angry over the past eight years with one disastrous decision after another, one cynical (if clumsy) deception after another. But that’s in that other country he’s never been to… that country called the United States.

Then there was the stuff he said about Katrina. The thing about the “helicopter drivers” rescuing people on rooftops was just kind of non-sequitur, of course. What was fascinating was the fact that, of all his administration’s failings during that disaster, the item that appears to have stuck in his tiny mind (he “thought long and hard” about this) was his decision not to land Air Force One in Baton Rouge.

“The problem with that and — is that law enforcement would have been pulled away from the mission. And then your questions, I suspect, would have been, how could you possibly have flown Air Force One into Baton Rouge, and police officers that were needed to expedite traffic out of New Orleans were taken off the task to look after you?”

Amazing stuff. It’s really all about him, isn’t it?

Of course, he’s not done yet. He and Congress are fully supporting Israel’s rampage in Gaza, even as they attack UN-run shelters for refugees, even as they drop burning white phosphorus on crowded urban neighborhoods. Bush’s diplomatic team is doing its usual slow walk – just as they did during the Lebanon attack in 2006 – giving Israel as much time as possible to burn its way to its objectives. They’ve got the blood of hundreds of innocents on their hands, including more than 250 children, and it’s not over yet.

Bush is going out the way he came in: an insufferable fool, presiding over needless slaughter. He’ll be missed.

luv u,

jp

Sound out.

Greetings from the soundstage of terusdanorf girundolph huzzah. Can you hear me out there? Are you sure? Testing, testing…

Oh, the trials and tribulations of interstellar tours! And who knows them better than Big Green, right? We know them all, like the backs of our hands. (Hmmmm…. never noticed that mole before. Better get that looked at. And when did I bark that knuckle?) We’ve grappled with irate, drunken crowds, ill-tempered club owners with six (or even seven) heads, venues that had no air or gravity (had to write those into our contracts – live and learn!), Frankenstein-like bouncers, galaxy collisions in the middle of the second set – we’ve been there, damnit. And if you include sFshzenKlyrn‘s experiences, we’re talking about every bad gig back to the big bang (which, I believe, was the name of the Rolling Stones’ 1971 tour, wasn’t it?) or even further. The big crunch, even. One of those. Anyway… what was I saying?

Oh, yeah. Difficult interstellar gigs. That’s how it went off on Proxima Centauri. They didn’t get our new song “High Horse” at all – again, a question of cultural references. And since we were on their equivalent of network television – a live performance show they call terusdanorf girundolph huzzah, it was a bit embarrassing to say the least. You see, they are more into our darker numbers. I think that’s because their companion star is so dim. (27 hours of night to every five hours of daylight. W.T.F., right?) So they reacted pretty well to stuff like Vital Signs and so on. Trouble is, when they DON’T like something you play, they start throwing stuff. Kind of a tradition on Proxima. (In fact, it’s a tradition on Earth as well, as it happens. Down there, the more they like you, the bigger the projectiles…. or so I’m told.) That gets to be a problem, frankly.

Well, yeah… so they chucked handfuls of finkonium (a mildly radioactive isotope native to Proxima) at us during High Horse. (Fans of neither country nor irony, they.) Then our mics crapped out in the middle of the set, and they started hurling that finkonium again – this time in big chunks. One of them hit Marvin (my personal robot assistant) upside the head as he attempted to scope out the problem with the mics. Apparently the radioactive properties in the finkonium interacted with those inside Marvin’s brass cranium in such a way as to turn him temporarily into a Frenchman. It’s kind of like foreign accent syndrome – you know, when you get into a fender bender and suddenly you’re talking like Victor Borge. That’s what happened with Marvin, except it’s the full monty – Francophone speech, stereotypical getup… you can even hear faint accordion music in the background when he enters a room. Most peculiar.

Not to worry. Mitch Macaphee, Marvin’s erstwhile inventor, tells me this should not last. Besides, anti-Lincoln finds it vaguely entertaining for some reason. (I think it’s because posi-Lincoln hates it.) Those two!

Right as ever.

Well, I’d been expecting to see it right along – the 1.000-word diatribe from Chuck Krauthammer in support of Israel’s rampage in Gaza. And it did not disappoint… it contains all of the elements that make Krauthammer’s screeds extra special: the hollow moralism, the chilling portraits of Palestinian depravity, the meticulous attention to select details coupled with a total neglect of even recent (i.e. the past year’s) history. One brief example – he cited 6,464 rocket and mortar attacks from Gaza on southern Israel over the past three years. Since we’re counting, I wonder if anyone has bothered to calculate the number of munitions expended by Israel on that sorry strip of land over the same period? No, I thought not. Never once does Krauthammer so much as suggest that Israel bears even minimal responsibility for the massive death and destruction now taking place in Gaza. Quite the contrary, it is Hamas that “is committed to causing the most civilian pain and suffering” while Israel is “committed to saving as many lives as possible.” That fiendish Hamas – using those peace-loving Israeli tanks and warplanes as instruments of terror. Will they stop at nothing?

How, you may ask, does Israel demonstrate their commitment to protecting the innocent? Well, Krauthammer reminds us that they phone warnings to people prior to air strikes. It’s like a wake-up call, except that the voice on the phone tells you your home and everything you value will be incinerated very soon – have a nice day! Of course, the notion that the Israeli government is somehow obsessed with the well-being of the people they bomb would almost be laughable were it not for the landscape of terror it is attempting to conceal – one noxious product of the decades-old policy of dispossession that Israel has pursued relentlessly and Krauthammer (along with most articulate opinion) chooses to ignore. He speaks of Israel as a charitable, enlightened, even somewhat over-indulgent neighbor that graciously allowed the man-beasts living in Gaza the opportunity for self-determination in 2005 when, after 40 years of brutal occupation, they pulled out – an opportunity they squandered, according to Krauthammer. He apparently feels as though Palestinians in Gaza should be grateful for Israel’s largess, even as it kills them by the hundred.

The facts disagree. Israel still controls Gaza – any child can work that out. They control exit and entry on all sides. They control the sea and the air. They have veto power (regularly exercised) over electricity and water supplies, to say nothing of food and medicine. They have been applying that power with great effect over the past two years, since Hamas won legislative elections in 2006, then anticipated the coup Israel and the U.S. worked to foment through compliant elements in Fatah (i.e. Abbas and friends) and drove the Palestinian Authority from the strip. And yet Israel’s apologists, from their ambassador to the U.S., to Krauthammer and his fellow pundits, to the Israel Project’s Meagan Buren, talk as though a.) Israel is bending over backwards to give Gazans what they need, and b.) Gaza is an entity separate unto itself, totally divorced from the occupied West Bank and occupied East Jerusalem. Israel is perpetrating collective punishment on nearly 1.5 million Palestinians in Gaza, but also on the balance of Palestinian society elsewhere in the territories. While its apologists speak of “peace”, they provide cover for the encroachment of settlements that has taken place consistently over the past 40 years.

Israel – fully supported by the Bush administration – wants to knock Hamas out, not because of scattered rocket attacks on southern Israel, but because they will insist on real concessions from Israel. Krauthammer’s job is obscuring that fact. Would that he were the only one on that beat.

luv u,

jp

Start off.

Did you get through it okay? Good. We did, too. Kind of annoying, but it’s over. What’s that? You were referring to Christmas? No, no – I’m talking about the blue-hot sun. Whole different kind of annoying.

So, yes… a bit the worse for wear, our second-hand Soyuz spacecraft (personally checked for soundness by Yuri Gugarin himself) did actually carry us through the burning sun without major incident. The man-sized tuber had to turn up the humidity in his special space terrarium, but that’s no biggy. We have asked our pilot, Urich Von Braun (son of a rocket scientist, I’m told) to take us home via Proxima Centauri, where we may just stand to make a few extra bucks playing on their equivalent of Austin City Limits (which they call “terusdanorf girundolph huzzah” … not real catchy) before slinking home to the Cheney Hammer Mill and whatever housekeeping nightmare awaits us there. Hey – we couldn’t afford domestic help, okay? And that place sure as hell won’t clean itself. (Not yet, anyway. Mitch is working on a device right now…)

So, yeah… we’re pock-pock-pocking along through interstellar space once again, ringing in the new year as has been our custom; with a toast of Zenite cognac (thoughtfully provided by our sit-in guitarist, sFshzenKlyrn) and a demonstration of zero-gravity juggling by Marvin (my personal robot assistant). Very impressive. Somewhat less impressive was Marvin’s rendition of Dylan’s “Maggie’s Farm”… his high, reedy voice seeming a bit thin even to posi-Lincoln (who himself has a high, reedy voice) and his recollection of the lyrics a bit less than perfect. (Since when does Maggie’s brother “hand you a pickle”?) Still, way out here, you have to take what entertainment you can get, no matter how bad it sucks. What the hell – it beats zero-gravity rehearsal, right? (Just try to hang on to those drumsticks, boy. Just try.)

We had plans to open our terusdanorf girundolph huzzah gig with a rousing performance of our new mp3 single, “High Horse“, which we’re currently handing out for free on our Web site. Thing is, that is a song that requires context. Out on Proxima Centauri, they don’t keep up with Earth-bound politics. Hell, they would never have even heard of Dubya if we hadn’t brought him out there back in 2000 as part of our glorious first-ever interstellar tour. Contextualizing “High Horse” would require our filling them in on everything that’s happened over the last eight years, and that might take… well… eight years. The show’s only 45 minutes long, for chrissake. Let’s face it – they just won’t get the irony. And they don’t take well to country music out here, even if it’s gag-country. We’ll need another opener. (I was talking to Marvin just then – he’s trying to open a can of soup with a letter-opener. But yes, we’ll need to open with some other song.)

Wish us luck. Not so much with the gig, but with the getting there. Urich is becoming strangely obsessed with yet another celestial object. I’m hoping it’s Proxima, but my luck hasn’t been so good lately.

Square one.

Is this the spring of 2002, summer of 2006, or winter of 2009? I’ve lost track. The Israelis are again engaged in using their enormous (largely U.S. supplied) military might to crush a virtually defenseless people they are compelled by international statute to protect, dropping so-called precision weapons on one of the most densely populated parcels of land on earth and blaming the predictable resulting civilian deaths on those they target. Soon their tanks will roll into the open air prison that is Gaza on yet another mad, premeditated mission of murder and rampage, punishing 1.5 million Palestinians for voting the wrong way two years ago and, more fundamentally, for refusing to disappear as a people. Israel’s leaders, once more bloodying the ground for the next election, are intoning the rhetoric of the injured party, the enlightened state that has already endured too much, been too lenient, too forgiving, etc., as they pursue a strategy long in the making to decapitate Hamas while scoring substantial injury on all Palestinians. Their government officials and spokespersons, their surrogates in the American press, and their apologists in our own government repeat the mantra of self defense, likening lowly Hamas to the legions of Hitler (per Netanyahu) when comparisons even to Hizbullah are ludicrously overblown.

Like their depraved campaign in the West Bank in 2002 and the murderous war on Lebanon in 2006, this is the kind of assault that should be taken up by the U.N. Security Council and, ultimately, the Hague. I’m not holding my breath. From around the world, the response has ranged from equivocation to full-throated support for Olmert and Barak’s war. As Ali Abunimah said recently on Democracy Now!, Israel is waging war against a captive population, bombing mosques, hospitals, universities, and refugee camps. It is the most wanton attack against Palestinians in decades, and they are following through on it behind a protective shroud of silence. Israeli policymakers are confident that the United States government will be behind them no matter what they do, and that spineless leaders from Britain to Bahrain will refrain from raising their voices, or merely imply some kind of moral equivalency between the attackers and the victims. When Russia took action against Georgia, the outrage was deafening. Yet Israel bombs the most miserable place on earth, and you can hear crickets.

Let us not forget the genesis of this particular outrage. Hamas won the parliamentary elections in the Palestinian territories in 2006. Israel and the U.S. found this unacceptable and immediately began undermining the results of that election, applying pressure on Abu Mazen, their hand-picked Palestinian representative, to move against Hamas. They supplied Fatah with arms and were in the process of stoking a coup in Gaza when Hamas anticipated their move and drove Fatah from the strip in 2007. Since then, the Israelis and the United States have held the Gaza strip under siege, starving its populace, denying basic medical supplies, and generally engaging in collective punishment against the population in hopes that they would turn against Hamas. The vaunted cease-fire has never been observed by Israel, which has run bombing raids on Gaza through the duration. They picked this opportune moment to complete the job Abu Mazen was unable to finish for them more than a year ago.

In 2002, Arafat was the “terrorist” and the obstruction to peace. Now it’s Hamas, precisely because they earned the support of a majority of Palestinians. Hamas is willing to negotiate on equal terms with Israel – that makes them unacceptable. Israel wants a negotiating partner they can roll over and dictate terms to. What we’re seeing is their attempt to ensure that advantage will continue, through air raids that recall Guernica and god knows what else.

Make your voice heard. This killing will stop only if we abandon our silence.

luv u,

jp

Christmas freak.

Sing along with me (to the tune of Jingle Bells)… Oooooh! Christmas freak, Christmas freak, flying through the sun! Burn your charges to a crisp, your work is almost done… Oh!

Hi, folks. Just celebrating the holiday the best way we know how… gasping for breath as our maniac pilot drives our sub-standard spacecraft through the center of a blue-hot star. Sure, I know what you’re thinking – that’s not the kind of Christmas I remember, right? Not the kind you used to know back home in Sheboygan. Well, I’m with you on that, as it happens. I just mean that we’re celebrating as best we can under the circumstances… specifically, those of flying headlong through a burning sun. We try to think of it as a slightly hotter version of “‘over the river and through the woods” … though Marvin (my personal robot assistant) is quick to remind me that that is, in fact, a Thanksgiving song, and Thanksgiving was a month ago. Right again, Marvin. Where would we be without you?

But enough about our problems. How is your holiday season going? We don’t hear nearly enough about you and yours… it’s always just about us and ours, right? For all I know, you too are spending this holiday out in the farther reaches of our galaxy, being flown around in an obsolete spacecraft by a maniacal pilot named Urich. Or perhaps not. The thing is, when we of Big Green elected to go on a brief tour in support of our new album, International House, we hadn’t considered the possibility of spending the entire Christmas week in-between stops in deep interstellar space. We’d pictured more of a pleasant series of performances in relatively small extraterrestrial venues, where people flash little lights instead of applauding and show their appreciation by dropping a little extra cash in the man-sized tuber’s little tin cup. (He typically uses it for plant food, but it makes a good tip jar as well.) That was not to be, alas. Just some rip-it-up type thrash-fests on Aldebaran and the mysterious planet Neuton, then stuck in transit. And it’s dull out here, man! Even the Lincolns are bored – both of them. And they never agree on anything!

Still, you find ways of keeping busy, even cooped up in a tin can like this. As Urich has navigated his erratic path through the center of this burning star, we’ve taken advantage of the relative quiet to put the finishing touches on a new song. It’s called “High Horse”, and it’s something of a farewell number for George Dubya Bush, who will soon be leaving the Oval Office for blessed obscurity. Some of you may remember that the president was kind enough to accompany us on our very first interstellar tour. (For details, check out our blog archive for May and June 2000.) We thought it only appropriate to offer up a big country goodbye for Tex, which we are posting as a free mp3 on our site. Be the first to download it at www.big-green.net/highhorse/. We whittled it out of cleared-away sage brush in our spare time. (You can still smell the burning timber…. or is that our re-entry parachute on fire? Not sure. Not sure at all.)

So anyway… We’ll be seeing you on the other side of the annual divide (known as New Year’s) and hopefully on the other side of this burning sun Urich is driving us through. Til then, happy krimble and a very goo year. (Apologies to J. Lennon.)

Another brick.

Hi again, campers. Back to the Obama to-do list. Since the guy’s on vacation, I imagine he might even be able to find the time to read this one. Pull it up on your blackberry while you’re sitting on the beach. That’s http://www.hammermilldays.com/, Mr. President-Elect. There’s a good chap. This week, domestic policy.

Auto bailout. This is indeed a miserable business. The Bush administration has made such a muddle of the economy that it actually makes some of his other monumental failures pale in comparison. And yet when he came forward with the terms of his proposal, he did so in a somewhat self-righteous way, as if to lecture the industry on its failings. There are plenty of failures to take note of, that’s for sure… but Bush is in no position to criticize, quite frankly. (It’s a bit like Bernie Madoff giving advice on prudent investing.) What is particularly maddening is his focus on the auto workers. In what appears an attempt to throw his fellow Herbert Hoover republicans a bone, he has made the loan offer contingent on substantial labor concessions to bring their wages in line, as he sees it, with those of foreign manufacturers.

Here’s the real joke – UAW workers are making about the same as their non-union counterparts right now. Conservatives like to throw around wild numbers like $73 an hour as somehow representative of UAW scale. That’s what Bush used to call “fuzzy math.” They’re lumping wages together with retiree pensions and benefits and dividing that across the current active workforce. (Labor activist Gregg Shotwell gave a pretty good overview on Democracy Now! last week.) He and the G.O.P. leadership are keen to force some sacrifice on workers, even as corporate executives in the financial industry are still pocketing millions of dollars, including many of those at A.I.G., recipient of more than $150 billion in TARP funds.

This is consistent with the prevailing economic philosophy that favors maximizing corporate profits through outsourcing. As Shotwell explains, the auto companies have been investing overseas for years, so if their U.S. operations fail, they will still have enough assets in other countries to actually start “exporting” cars to the U.S. This would be a much more profitable model for them. Meanwhile, GM’s financial arm, GMAC, has managed to get itself classified as a bank holding company so that it can get a piece of the financial bailout cash. So the car companies can survive even if they employ next to no one in the United States.

Mr. President-Elect – take the workers’ side, for chrissake. If we’re going to try to make the domestic auto industry competitive with foreign auto makers, we’re going to need to move to a single-payer national health plan that provides universal coverage (not some kind of frankenstinian public-private hybrid). That’s what our main competitors have, along with more robust government sponsored pension systems. And if we’re going to bail out the automakers, let’s take an ownership stake in those companies and use that influence to steer them in a better, more sustainable direction that encourages domestic production of more fuel-efficient vehicles, as well as the development of greener mass transit.

Oh… and get a handle on this TARP bailout. These fuckers are walking off with boatloads of cash, and Congress seems unable to do anything about it. Enjoy your vacation.

luv u,

jp

Next stop, whatever.

Don’t see it? Well look again. That flaring star. That’s the sun… our sun. The sun the earth orbits. Its temperature is so high it can turn this ship’s hull to butter… and we’re heading straight for it!

Yikes… didn’t know anyone was listening, there. Just rehearsing my lines for the upcoming Lost In Space favorite episodes playoff. Haven’t heard of it? Not surprised. Oh… did you think I was talking about our own interstellar travels just then? Heh heh heh…. No, no. Not a bit of it. The flaring star we’re headed straight towards is not the Earth’s sun. It’s another star, far hotter than our own… a blue dwarf, as it were. And it won’t reduce our hull to butter. Oh, no… just vaporize it entirely, along with everything inside. So there’s a difference between television melodrama and the real thing, my friends, and don’t you forget it. Hollywood is the land of butter hulls. In real life, the term of art is “vaporization”. Write it down, underline it. Now, what was I going to say? Ah, yes. ARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH!!!

Okay, I’ve caught my breath. Here’s the thing. Our pilot, Urich Von Braun, was able to get us off the mysterious Planet Neuton all right. Trouble is, he’s obsession prone. Recall that his obsessive behavior is what put us on that clownish little globe in the first place. (Still can’t get that freaking ceremonial hat off my head. I’ve put a call in to our agent to complain.) So… he spotted what looked like a little blue marble in the firmament… a deadly blue marble, as it turns out. Hot as blue blazes. Before we could say “Urich, Nooooooooooooooo….!” he pointed that nosecone towards the blue dot and stepped on the “gas”. And hence… trouble.

Not that everyone on board is all that worked up about the imminent prospect of being seared to a crisp. (Or vaporized to a wisp.) Take Marvin (my personal robot assistant) … please. Marvin’s gotten more spam from that financial planner guy named “Remington Tagget”. He really thinks this guy is his personal investment counselor! I’ve tried to explain to Marvin that you really need to have investments if you’re going to retain one of those, but he doesn’t hear my words. Not a syllable. This Tagget guy keeps giving him reinforcement, though. He sent him a holiday message on Friday:

Hi Marvin,

Best wishes for a happy holiday & successful New Year from the entire team here at Direct Capital!

Please click here to view a special mes-sage for On Time Van Trans In.

Warm Wishes,

Remington Tagget

I’ll tell you, man. That wireless router has got some serious range. (Or should I say, Sirius range.) Anyway, here comes the sun…. The one pleasure we’ll get out of this is to watch Smith fry.

Big shoe.

I had resolved to dedicate my blog rambling to a suggestion list for the incoming Obama administration over these few remaining weeks of the Bush II era. (Suggestion #9 – drop the homophobe preacher.) But sometimes events overtake us… events in the shape of a size ten shoe. Actually, two size ten shoes, tossed quite skillfully at the commander in chief himself, who dodged them – also quite skillfully – much as he’s been able (up to this point, at least) to dodge responsibility for the mass death and destruction he has brought down upon Iraq. This was for the widows and orphans and the thousands killed, said Muntazer al-Zaidi as he hummed the second limo at our fearless (or clueless) leader. My first thought was, huh… an anger so pervasive that it was able to penetrate even the octuple security of the Green Zone’s inner sanctum and make the president duck. And, as I’m sure someone has observed, it was no lame duck…. quite adept. Makes me wonder if people chuck things at him more than we know. (Barney, perhaps?)

Be that as it may, al-Zaidi’s act of defiance resonated throughout the poorer quarters where the despised of both Bush and Saddam claw their way through life, and far beyond. Is this as close as Bush will ever come to a genuine “accountability moment”, as he puts it? Perhaps. Prospects for any kind of constitutional come-uppance appear to be nil at this point, and it seems unlikely that he’ll see his day in court (this side of the Hague, anyway). There may be a broad recognition of this fact, perhaps even global in scope, bringing expectations of justice so low that even this purely symbolic effort takes on tremendous significance. Who hasn’t felt frustrated that Bush may be sailing obliviously off into a comfortable sunset, convinced of his own righteousness? In a world of misery made worse by his tenure, who hasn’t wanted to chuck that shoe… or at least hoped to see it chucked by someone else?

Particularly in Iraq, the feeling is more than understandable. To this day there is no real acknowledgement of the degree to which Iraqis have suffered as a result of this invasion, just as there remains to be any acknowledgement of how much they had suffered under the preceding dozen years of truly murderous economic sanctions and the destruction of the 1991 Gulf War. Their resentment of American intervention in their nation has been evident from day one. Even when our military orchestrated the pull-down of Saddam’s statue in the square packed with Chalabi’s people, cordoned off from the general public, they couldn’t keep signs of resistance out of the carefully composed television images. I can remember the flustered T.V. commentator reading on-air the sign that read “Go Home You U.S. Wankers”, fully expecting it to be some kind of celebratory message. In the midst of a whirlwind of triumphalist press about our successful invasion and drive to Baghdad, there was that irrepressible anomaly that presaged the great unraveling that was to follow.

Have we arrived at another such moment? Will Bush actually be held to account, along with other members of his administration? Has he unfurled the “mission accomplished” banner a bit prematurely once again? We can only wait and see if there is yet one more shoe to drop.

luv u,

jp