Following is a letter that was published in www.salon.com. I wrote it in connection with readers' reactions to a new book -- A Tragic Legacy -- by Salon author/blogger Glenn Greenwald.
I guess one shouldn't be surprised at the vitriolic tone of some of the comments. Bush and Co. are known to elicit this kind of response, and Glenn, by shouldering the burden of diagnosing the "sociopathic" plague that is the current administration (in the paraphrased words of some of the commentators, and not mine, or yours), you have indeed been rendered guilty by association.
The commentators who think it's useless to try to understand the root causes of why we are hanging by our nails on the precipice of history today (e.g., who cares what internal demons, or even the lack of such demons, caused the psycopath to rape and murder my child) seem to miss a crucial point. Glenn, as an American, has every reason to embark on this path. For the family of the little Iraqi girl who was raped and murdered by our soldiers and whose last memories of this world convince an agnostic like me of such a place as "hell", perhaps not. We, the nation, are the psycopath, not just some of our elected officials. So, if Glenn's analysis of this administration sheds some measure of light on our society (whether or not, that is his intent), there is sufficient justification for his book.
As a lawyer (albeit, not a "nerdy" constitutional one), I appreciate Glenn's reverence for the founding ideals of this country. My adopted home is indeed unique in that regard. However, critical legal theory (queer, feminist, race, class, etc.) has already subverted the notion that even in its inception, this country reached its moral ideals. Certainly, our global policy to date (please read Tariq Ali's "Clash of Fundamentalisms" for our rather excellent track record) lays bare naked the implication that somehow we were ever morally superior. I truly appreciate the uniquely beautiful (yes, beautiful) piece of law that is the 4th amendment, but if you poll the experiences of nonwhite citizens of this country and swarthy non-citizens at our borders, as well as swaths of our "comfortably off" citizenry, a different story emerges. History has every right to judge us by our actions and not by our words. Hard for a lawyer to admit, but there it is.
Lastly, Glenn, I was struck by the following sentence of yours: "Societies driven exclusively or primarily by a fear of avoiding Evil, minimizing risks, and seeking above all else that our government "protects" us are not free." This description fits (all too comfortably) any number of our allies who are still in the thralls of my birthright religion -- Islam. That may not have been your intention, but there's a reason why the dialogue between Bush and Co. and any ersatz Osama and Co. flows so smoothly. The rest of us, asking for reasoned reflection are (simply put) a bore...
Look forward to reading the book and very much enjoy your incisive blog. Cheers.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
A Day At the Races
Not horses (or dogs, for the perverted among you) since Derby Day is ancient history and this is a dispatch from Philly (which is barely, but technically, still the north). I am speaking of the Commerce Bank Triple Crown of Cycling, which concluded this past weekend.
As we were busy tearing around Philly on Saturday ticking off a veritable, nay formidable, list of chores, all across town, we kept spotting vans festooned with expensive bike wheels and sponsor logos. Could the race be already upon us? Yikes! So, Sunday saw us hurriedly packing some "serious" camera equipment, donning hiking boots (did I say, "serious"?) and making the trek to "The Wall" a/k/a Lyseum Avenue in Manayunk.
It turned out to be a wonderful day of cycling and yours truly had some fun with the camera. After catching a couple of grueling (for the cyclists) laps at the Wall, we headed down to the Ben Franklin parkway for a change of scene as the race picked up speed on the flat sections of the course. Alas, such is self-imposed adulthood that duty called and we had to be home, and thus miss one of the more exciting parts of the race on Lemon Hill. Next year... (sigh)
Sunday was a good day in Philly.
Photo Credit -- Jamal Elias
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Selective Censure
One my favorite novels by Margaret Atwood is called Oryx and Crake. It is a piece of speculative fiction that leads us down the treacherous, slippery slope of wondering what sinkhole punctuates the current path of pathological commodification on which humanity jauntily lumbers along. As two examples of such commodification, Atwood makes precise, poignant use of child sex slavery and transgenic animals as plot elements. Her dissection of these sensitive subject matters (particularly the former) is terribly fascinating to witness, but while reading the relevant sections of the novel, one can't help but be filled with shame at the depth of humanity's depredation. Oryx and Crake has been on my mind lately, because the U.S. just published its 2007 human trafficking blackbook/blacklist. Just before you go out and celebrate New Rome's (yup, that's my name for home) respect for human rights, please note that India, one of the world's worst offenders when it comes to child slaves (for sex, or for hard, manual labor -- take your pick), was not accorded its rightful place in Tier 3 -- the group of the worst offenders. I guess our business interests (as usual) trump what was, at best, a hortatory attempt by New Rome to pave the shining, yellow brick road to the Emerald City of moral righteousness.
"We have labored long to build a heaven, only to find it populated with horrors." Watchmen, Alan Moore
"We have labored long to build a heaven, only to find it populated with horrors." Watchmen, Alan Moore
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Pandora/Proloinkarini
Pandora/Proloinkarini*
She carries the loneliness of a solitary walk
even amidst crowds.
Once, she tried to get "lost" in a large shopping arcade, Hoping, praying, someone would notice.
She "found" herself again.
Her mind is a red planet –
strange and beautiful, but hardly habitable;
her thoughts, the only voices of her solitude;
her heart, the locus of a yet-unlabeled hurricane;
her voice, the final, gurgling scream
of a dark-browed girl called Kitty.
Open the box.
Eat the apple.
Free yourself, my dear.
*“Bringer of destruction” in Bengali.
She carries the loneliness of a solitary walk
even amidst crowds.
Once, she tried to get "lost" in a large shopping arcade, Hoping, praying, someone would notice.
She "found" herself again.
Her mind is a red planet –
strange and beautiful, but hardly habitable;
her thoughts, the only voices of her solitude;
her heart, the locus of a yet-unlabeled hurricane;
her voice, the final, gurgling scream
of a dark-browed girl called Kitty.
Open the box.
Eat the apple.
Free yourself, my dear.
*“Bringer of destruction” in Bengali.
Dynasty: Remember the Soap Anyone?
As promised, some "bemoanings" about Bangladesh.
I have long harbored an almost maniacal and pathological dislike for Bangladesh's erstwhile leaders -- Begums Khaleda Zia and Sheikh Hasina. I'll be the first to acknowledge that such visceral dislike of our esteemed leaders is petty and unbecoming of me. I'm not the only one, it seems. I just ran across this piece in The Daily Star by Brig. Gen. (retd.) Shamsuddin Ahmed. I hate to find myself agreeing with anyone connected to the military and not knowing his politics or his individual circumstances, I find myself agreeing wholeheartedly with his opinion of these two so-called leaders. Excerpts and a link to the full article appear below.
"Some people say of [Begums Khaldeda Zia and Sheik Hasina] that one is better than the other. To me, they are just two sides of the same coin if you have followed the pattern of their rule. They most zealously kept in place all those things which Ershad did in his nine years of ignominious rule to undo democracy and foster corruption and crime in this country.
They sat majestically where Ershad used to sit as a dictator, and ruled the country like he did, with utter disdain for democracy and all moral and ethical values. Just to perpetuate their power, they literally vied with one another in politicizing in varying degrees all the national institutions -- the Election Commission (EC), the Anti- Corruption Commission (ACC), the Public Service Commission (PSC), the bureaucracy, the police, and even the judiciary.
They have done the greatest disservice to this nation by politicizing the bureaucracy, the police and the judiciary. It will take years to repair the damage done, and to restore dignity and trust in these institutions. They have demonstrated an unquenchable thirst for power, and an insatiable greed for wealth and property.
As the heads of elected governments, the first thing they did was to allocate important portfolios to those cronies who were the closest and most crooked so that they could foul up things better than others. Then they would increase their own, and those of all other ministers and lawmakers, pay and allowances and perks and privileges, as if they all virtually lived on this subsistence. And this they would do more than once, in one term.
They would have the most luxurious fleet of cars to ride, the largest retinues and, of course, many armed guards in front of their offices and residences -- a sine qua non of power and privilege in an impoverished country. Then would begin the real game -- the grabbing spree."
http://www.thedailystar.net/2007/06/12/d706121501131.htm
I have long harbored an almost maniacal and pathological dislike for Bangladesh's erstwhile leaders -- Begums Khaleda Zia and Sheikh Hasina. I'll be the first to acknowledge that such visceral dislike of our esteemed leaders is petty and unbecoming of me. I'm not the only one, it seems. I just ran across this piece in The Daily Star by Brig. Gen. (retd.) Shamsuddin Ahmed. I hate to find myself agreeing with anyone connected to the military and not knowing his politics or his individual circumstances, I find myself agreeing wholeheartedly with his opinion of these two so-called leaders. Excerpts and a link to the full article appear below.
"Some people say of [Begums Khaldeda Zia and Sheik Hasina] that one is better than the other. To me, they are just two sides of the same coin if you have followed the pattern of their rule. They most zealously kept in place all those things which Ershad did in his nine years of ignominious rule to undo democracy and foster corruption and crime in this country.
They sat majestically where Ershad used to sit as a dictator, and ruled the country like he did, with utter disdain for democracy and all moral and ethical values. Just to perpetuate their power, they literally vied with one another in politicizing in varying degrees all the national institutions -- the Election Commission (EC), the Anti- Corruption Commission (ACC), the Public Service Commission (PSC), the bureaucracy, the police, and even the judiciary.
They have done the greatest disservice to this nation by politicizing the bureaucracy, the police and the judiciary. It will take years to repair the damage done, and to restore dignity and trust in these institutions. They have demonstrated an unquenchable thirst for power, and an insatiable greed for wealth and property.
As the heads of elected governments, the first thing they did was to allocate important portfolios to those cronies who were the closest and most crooked so that they could foul up things better than others. Then they would increase their own, and those of all other ministers and lawmakers, pay and allowances and perks and privileges, as if they all virtually lived on this subsistence. And this they would do more than once, in one term.
They would have the most luxurious fleet of cars to ride, the largest retinues and, of course, many armed guards in front of their offices and residences -- a sine qua non of power and privilege in an impoverished country. Then would begin the real game -- the grabbing spree."
http://www.thedailystar.net/2007/06/12/d706121501131.htm
Just Another Manic Tuesday: So, Who Stole Our Streets?
I promised to write about Philly musings so here goes.
At approximately 8 a.m. (US EST) on Friday, June 1st, the quiet neighborhood of UC/WP (University City/West Philly) was rocked by a massive heist that took place right under our very schnozes. What was this "massive heist" you ask? Did someone's house get burgled? Was someone's car broken into for the fine, dorm-quality blanket that was lying on the backseat just taunting, ney, entrapping, the casual car-vandal/passerby? Well, that wouldn't be "massive" now, would it? I'm speaking of our streets. Yes, our streets have been stolen. How, preythee good madame or sire, you ask politely, is it possible to steal streets. Well, here's how! The Streets Division of the City of Philadelphia came about two weeks ago and took away the old street surface on our block. Generally speaking, even I am not addled enough (at least, not yet) to equate that innocent, municipal act with theft. However, when the city contractors didn't return with a newly repaved and resurfaced, gleaming asphalt street, which we've already paid for, the civilized term in common English parlance for such an act is -- theft. Mayor Street, we want our street back, and if this is just a misunderstanding and you simply borrowed the street (I have to admit, ours was particularly lovely with its irresistible, moon-like craters), no worries, I'm setting up an account where you can direct the interest payments. I have to warn you, though -- I charge near-usurious rates.
At approximately 8 a.m. (US EST) on Friday, June 1st, the quiet neighborhood of UC/WP (University City/West Philly) was rocked by a massive heist that took place right under our very schnozes. What was this "massive heist" you ask? Did someone's house get burgled? Was someone's car broken into for the fine, dorm-quality blanket that was lying on the backseat just taunting, ney, entrapping, the casual car-vandal/passerby? Well, that wouldn't be "massive" now, would it? I'm speaking of our streets. Yes, our streets have been stolen. How, preythee good madame or sire, you ask politely, is it possible to steal streets. Well, here's how! The Streets Division of the City of Philadelphia came about two weeks ago and took away the old street surface on our block. Generally speaking, even I am not addled enough (at least, not yet) to equate that innocent, municipal act with theft. However, when the city contractors didn't return with a newly repaved and resurfaced, gleaming asphalt street, which we've already paid for, the civilized term in common English parlance for such an act is -- theft. Mayor Street, we want our street back, and if this is just a misunderstanding and you simply borrowed the street (I have to admit, ours was particularly lovely with its irresistible, moon-like craters), no worries, I'm setting up an account where you can direct the interest payments. I have to warn you, though -- I charge near-usurious rates.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Just Another Day in SOM: The New Adventures of Bol and Bel on the Ship of Monkeys
Bol and Bel are urban (and sometimes, urbane) creatures who live on a planet called SOM (short for the "Ship of Monkeys") populated by four distinct species -- Monkeys, Doggies, AEs (short for the "Arch Enemies") and Rwaonds (short for the "rest who are of non-doggie species). Bol is a beautiful, headstrong, worldly, unpredictable (of the "Captain Jack Sparrow" ilk, for "Pirates" fans), somewhat irresponsible, adult Doggie. Bel is a somewhat cloyingly sweet, overly curious, naive, gangly teen Doggie, who appears attractive in a certain light. Bel and Bol were both lovingly adopted and live with Ma Monkey and Pa Monkey who bestow all kinds of affection on Bel and Bol and as such, are sadly, the unwitting slaves of these two Doggies. These are their conversations....
Bel: (in a slight, high-pitched whine) Bol?Bol: (gruffly) What?
Bel: (in a higher-pitched whine) Bol?
Bol: (with a bark) WHAT, TWERP?
Bel: (in a subdued voice) Bol, what is the G8?
Bol: (bemused and unable to hide the shock in his voice) Where did YOU learn about the G8?
Bel: (sheepishly) I peeked into the colorful window that sits on the kitchen table when Ma Monkey was distracted (AS usual) with cleaning up a bit of fluff (NOT mine!).
Bol: (scratching himself, with a nether-regions-sniff for good measure) I think it's where big Monkeys decide the fate of little Monkeys, Doggies, Rwaonds, and even (pauses for effect) AEs.
Bel: (nonplussed, as usual) So, I guess.....we are (with effort)... Doggies?
Bol: (in a condescending tone) Yeah, genius.
Bel: (misinterpreting Bol's "genius" comment, with renewed confidence) So big Monkeys decide at the G8 where, when and how little Monkeys, Doggies, Rwaonds, and AEs will live?
Bol: (hiding his secret pride in Bel) You got it! TWERP.
Bel: Well, that's a lot of responsibility. (Then, with brilliant and unusual insight) Just like Ma Monkey and Pa Monkey!
Bol: Hmmm... Not quite like that. Ma and Pa Monkey would never pretend to be sick like Bush Monkey was at the G8 when it came time to look after all of us. Why, I remember one time Pa Monkey walked us in a snow storm, at night, IN HIS SLEEP! (with gusto) Furthermore, like the other G8 big Monkeys, Ma and Pa Monkey would never promise to take to us to the Doggie Fun Place and then (dripping disgust) break that promise!
Bel: (sotto voce) Bol, I'm scared.
Bol: Don't be silly!
Bel: (insistent) No, I'm really scared.
Bol: (with a nip on Bel's ear) Come, let's play. (running off to grab one of their numerous fluffy, inert victims) Last one to kill the pheasant is a LOSER!!!
(Bel and Bol start tearing around the house while Bono croons softly on the radio "who's willing to try, to save a world, that's destined to, die" from his cover of Marvin Gaye's "Save the Children")
THE END
Bel: (in a slight, high-pitched whine) Bol?Bol: (gruffly) What?
Bel: (in a higher-pitched whine) Bol?
Bol: (with a bark) WHAT, TWERP?
Bel: (in a subdued voice) Bol, what is the G8?
Bol: (bemused and unable to hide the shock in his voice) Where did YOU learn about the G8?
Bel: (sheepishly) I peeked into the colorful window that sits on the kitchen table when Ma Monkey was distracted (AS usual) with cleaning up a bit of fluff (NOT mine!).
Bol: (scratching himself, with a nether-regions-sniff for good measure) I think it's where big Monkeys decide the fate of little Monkeys, Doggies, Rwaonds, and even (pauses for effect) AEs.
Bel: (nonplussed, as usual) So, I guess.....we are (with effort)... Doggies?
Bol: (in a condescending tone) Yeah, genius.
Bel: (misinterpreting Bol's "genius" comment, with renewed confidence) So big Monkeys decide at the G8 where, when and how little Monkeys, Doggies, Rwaonds, and AEs will live?
Bol: (hiding his secret pride in Bel) You got it! TWERP.
Bel: Well, that's a lot of responsibility. (Then, with brilliant and unusual insight) Just like Ma Monkey and Pa Monkey!
Bol: Hmmm... Not quite like that. Ma and Pa Monkey would never pretend to be sick like Bush Monkey was at the G8 when it came time to look after all of us. Why, I remember one time Pa Monkey walked us in a snow storm, at night, IN HIS SLEEP! (with gusto) Furthermore, like the other G8 big Monkeys, Ma and Pa Monkey would never promise to take to us to the Doggie Fun Place and then (dripping disgust) break that promise!
Bel: (sotto voce) Bol, I'm scared.
Bol: Don't be silly!
Bel: (insistent) No, I'm really scared.
Bol: (with a nip on Bel's ear) Come, let's play. (running off to grab one of their numerous fluffy, inert victims) Last one to kill the pheasant is a LOSER!!!
(Bel and Bol start tearing around the house while Bono croons softly on the radio "who's willing to try, to save a world, that's destined to, die" from his cover of Marvin Gaye's "Save the Children")
THE END
Thursday, June 7, 2007
It's Gonna Be a Lovely Day
It's already been a lovely day here in Philly. After finishing up lunch at GIWA (where I've now extracted the promise that I'll get the "spicier" bean paste sauce the next time I'm there, i.e., I'm now FINALLY a regular), I went on what was to be a quick stroll to peek into the window of a boutique on Walnut Street just a couple of block up (west?) from Rittenhouse Square. The store was (sadly) out of business. As I walked back to work on Sansom, I couldn't resist the urge to step into Fat Jack's where 3 young men of differing age and ethnicities were in the thick of a rather serious conversation about which issues of Spawn were the best (consensus -- Moore, Gaimen, or Morrison). There was some critique of Morrison and his "media-savviness" and the conversation then veered into the indie wave in movies. Still eavesdropping, I gave a slight nod to the store owner in his Arkham sweats (I'd kill to get that T-shirt in my size), and kept browsing until I found a book of short stories by Moore (his first forey into this form). The young man who was carrying on the "serious" movie/graphic novel indie genre conversation gave a thumbs up on my choice. They always treat me like Tinkerbell at a UFC (Ultimate Fighting Club) fight:o) It's quite sweet. Girls read comics too; even old girls like me.
As I hurried back to work (after having done the Blackberry, voice-mail emergency check), I had to go into one last store on Sansom (bet. 17th and 18th) -- the Joseph Fox Bookstore. Lest you think I while my time away bookstore hopping, I actually had a stated mission. I wanted to get a book for my little West Philly neighbor. Her comment about one of my dogs will always ring clear in my head -- "Her head is just like a SKULL!" she said. I took that as a compliment, of course, and I think it was meant as such. So, I promised to reward her artistic insight with a book from my collection. My plan (although she doesn't know about it) is to give her a book a month. She's already an avid reader I hear:o) In any case, she gave the perfect reason to get to know this gem of a bookstore that has the most amazingly carefully selected collection of both adult and children's books. I came away with my hands full! I've rarely had the experience of finding all the books I love in one tiny store. Well, this had it all -- Tintin, Asterix, Dahl, and so on. Bravo! The storeowner is a lovely, graceful lady whose passion for children's books was nothing short of infectious. So, we chatted for a while (we both love Sempe, the French cartoonist, and did I say books?). I also came away with an invitation to "work" the store on the anticipated midnight of Potter 7. I'd PAY for that opportunity as those who know me and my methodic madness well know. I think I even promised to be in some sort of costume if the young lady at the store was up for it!
Back to work and to a puzzling agreement. Sigh....
Today, I love Philly!
As I hurried back to work (after having done the Blackberry, voice-mail emergency check), I had to go into one last store on Sansom (bet. 17th and 18th) -- the Joseph Fox Bookstore. Lest you think I while my time away bookstore hopping, I actually had a stated mission. I wanted to get a book for my little West Philly neighbor. Her comment about one of my dogs will always ring clear in my head -- "Her head is just like a SKULL!" she said. I took that as a compliment, of course, and I think it was meant as such. So, I promised to reward her artistic insight with a book from my collection. My plan (although she doesn't know about it) is to give her a book a month. She's already an avid reader I hear:o) In any case, she gave the perfect reason to get to know this gem of a bookstore that has the most amazingly carefully selected collection of both adult and children's books. I came away with my hands full! I've rarely had the experience of finding all the books I love in one tiny store. Well, this had it all -- Tintin, Asterix, Dahl, and so on. Bravo! The storeowner is a lovely, graceful lady whose passion for children's books was nothing short of infectious. So, we chatted for a while (we both love Sempe, the French cartoonist, and did I say books?). I also came away with an invitation to "work" the store on the anticipated midnight of Potter 7. I'd PAY for that opportunity as those who know me and my methodic madness well know. I think I even promised to be in some sort of costume if the young lady at the store was up for it!
Back to work and to a puzzling agreement. Sigh....
Today, I love Philly!
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