This hasn’t been a good week for the Libya enterprise, despite all that has been said and done to push it along in the right direction. Seems like mission creep is taking hold a lot faster than anyone might have guessed possible. It’s been reported that Obama has signed off on a finding to provide arms to the Libyan rebels and that C.I.A. operatives are on the ground and active in support of those forces. No surprise that the C.I.A. is there (it’s the rare nation that has never been the dubious beneficiary of Agency visitors, either invited or not). But that we would learn about it a little more than one week into this campaign is curious. And the word is that they have brought in close air support, including A-10 Warthogs and the like.
A report by Pentagon correspondent Tom Bowman on NPR’s Morning Edition was perhaps unintentionally illustrative of how badly this can go wrong:
“If their defeat is to be prevented, it’s inevitable that they get weapons from somewhere else,” says Frank Anderson, president of the Middle East Policy Council, a nonpartisan think tank. In the 1980s, he worked with the CIA, training Afghan rebels to fight the Soviets.
So… how did that Afghan thing turn out, anyhow? We are talking about a force that has no training, little leadership, few weapons, and no strategic resources to draw upon. Our operatives would effectively need to be their arms and legs, telling them where to move and when to shoot. That sounds, at best, like a formula for perpetual civil war and a divided Libya. However much I sympathize with Gaddafi’s opponents, I honestly don’t see how they can defeat an organized force. I’m not saying it’s not possible – just unlikely, even with an assist from the Agency. So…. what the hell are we doing?
The trouble with Obama’s splendid little war is that, if we were going to save the people of Benghazi by establishing a no-fly zone, we should have simply done so and gone no further. The outcome would not have been ideal – it will not be no matter what we do at this point. But trudging into yet another war is a patently bad idea for this country. If we had a draft (or a requirement that taxes be raised to cover every new conflict), this would never have even begun.
luv u,
jp
Oh, hi. Just spitballing here in the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill. Nothing to get excited about. Between Big Green tours, as you may already know, we tend to blow a lot of time in contemplation and various other pointless activities. Not because we are perennial time-wasters, you understand. No, no – it’s the ascetic lifestyle we aspire to. I know most bands drown themselves in drink, cloud their minds with illicit drugs, and indulge in multifarious pleasures of the flesh. Not this crew, my little friend – not a bit of it. We are like monks. (Did I say monks? I meant monkeys. Or Monkees. You take your pick.) We sit about, scratch, toss things at one another… until somebody says, get up there and play.
That’s just one example. And yeah, we’re aiming that at both an Earthbound audience and those folks out there in spaceland. Got to name-check a few communities they’re likely to recognize – kind of like those pop songs that have place names in them (like Huey Lewis naming cities at the end of “Heart of Rock and Roll”, for instance). When we’re up in the Crab Nebula, they wait for this song. They start waving their tentacles and nodding their oddly misshapen heads. It’s a gas.
Of course, we have similar reactors here, ludicrously close to major population centers, whose operating permits are based on equally ludicrous 50-mile perimeter population evacuation plans – eerily similar to the old Civil Defense evacuation plans that were on hand during the Cold War, when the entire population of, say, Utica, NY was instructed to head to shelters in nearby Frankfort, NY, and stop by a McDonald’s on the way for refreshment (I am not making this up). I’m glad that NY Governor Andrew Cuomo is at least looking at the Indian Point plant a bit more closely. There is no realistic evacuation scenario for this, nor is there one for the Diablo Canyon plant, conveniently located on two fault lines in southern California. Some people talk like we’re married to nuclear power. ‘Til death do us part? Really?
What’s happening around this place? Usual kind of stuff. We’re preparing for the warm weather, which typically comes around this time in the northern hemisphere (for those of you browsing in from Madagascar). That’s kind of an involved process. We have to put out the fire we started in the basement last November. No, we don’t have a furnace – that’s for bourgeois rock bands and… what do they call them? …. symphony orchestras. Hell, no – no furnace for Big Green. We just bust up a bunch of old furniture, baskets, hammer stocks (of which there are many lying around the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill), and other combustibles, chuck ’em down the basement stairs, light ’em up, and keep it going until March.
actual paint left is the stuff holding the windows closed.
Clearly no reactor is designed to withstand 9.0 earthquakes and colossal, history-making tsunamis – this one least of all, which at last look appeared from above like an ashtray at the end of an all-night poker game. One can only guess at what the long-term effects of this disaster will be. As one commentator recently put it, we all (those here since 1986, at least) have a piece of Chernobyl in us. Likely we will soon have some Fukushima Daiichi alongside it. (The knowledge that structurally similar plants are operating all over the U.S. is particularly sobering, as well.)
Ah, got it. Scratched into my computer monitor, right about where the password field appears on the screen. Pretty clever, huh? No one would think of looking for it there! Let’s see… what is up at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill that might be of interest to you. Little inventory here. I think Mitch Macaphee is working on an experiment (either that or Qaddafi’s bombers are getting closer). Matt is either changing strings on a guitar, feeding animals, or transposing our heads with those of lunar astronauts. (A specialty of his.) Johnny White is catching up on his technical manuals, I believe. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has shut himself down for the weekend, taking a little break from his newly founded religious cult. I won’t get into what the Lincolns are up to.
“…most of the big green groups are loath to talk about economics and often don’t want to see themselves as being part of a left at all, see climate change as an issue that transcends politics entirely…. a lot of the big green groups, are also in a kind of denial.” 
Of course, as we know, elections have consequences. If you give a drunk a gun, don’t be surprised when s/he shoots you in the ass. (Lesson leftover from the Bush administration.) But the warning goes both ways. If you shoot someone in the ass, don’t be surprised if s/he kicks yours a little later on.
Right. So, let’s see… what do we have in the old mail bag? Ah… here’s something…
I have entrusted it to my good friend, Big Zamboola, who will carry it straight over to you…. just as soon as he disengages himself from synchronous orbit over Aldebaran 7. (He is strangely attracted to that hideous little globe.) Give him a few thousand years or so. Orbits have decayed more slowly than that, to be sure.
I have to say that my sentiments run along the same lines, though I’ve never worked as hard as my father did. Still… I understand what it is like, what many of the hidden costs of labor are, and that informs my perspective as well as that of many, many Americans. A vast majority of Americans, in fact, if recent polling is to be believed – Wisconsin Governor (and former pop star) Scott Walker and his peers in Indiana, Ohio, and elsewhere appear to have been working on the assumption that most people who do not belong to a union see no value in organized labor and have no knowledge of its history in this country. Evidently, they are mistaken. Polling has long shown that most American workers would, if given the opportunity, join a union. While they understand the necessity of making concessions from time to time, they do not agree that one should concede one’s basic rights. The right to collective bargaining was hard won, fought for. It will not be relinquished casually.
That’s the song we’re singing here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, now that Marvin (my personal robot assistant) has been plying his new trade as preacher, flock-leader, and chief financial officer of the local diocese of the Space Hippie Sect. Yes, it’s a religion he made up using bits and pieces from Hulu reruns he watches in his ample spare time (contrary to common belief, robots are slothful creatures generally, their servos idle nearly 65% of the time). Turns out it was time well wasted, as the converts have been trudging in, eyes glazed, arms extended in front of them, hungry for spiritual guidance. Didn’t know Marvin was so good at getting money out of people. Must be new programming… for somebody.
constitutionally protected speech, not a Web-based confession of ill deeds. Nor is this claim a lame effort to keep you from breaking up this great little scam we’ve got going….. um… in the satire.)