My views on politics, life, death, the army, and other things too miscellaneous to mention here. This is a personal blog. This blog is 100% factual.
Bill Duckwing
Poet, Author, Journalist
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Your Super-Cute Daily Terror Alert Update Will Be Forevermore:
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"There are some myths and untruths surrounding the role God plays in our daily lives. To say that religion and politics do not mix, is certainly a myth, unless you ask a liberal. Anything that affects a Christian (and voting is one of them) — enters into the religious realm. Trying to separate the two is like trying to separate oil from a glass of water, it's impossible to do. "
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Monday, June 30, 2003
Bad Haircut. Part II. Plus Harry Potter
I got a haircut yesterday. My hair is wavy, which rocks out when its long, but after a certain point, it kinks out into a weird 1970’s style that makes me look like a roller derby extra. Either that, or just really, really cool.
Me, kicking back with a cool '70's style alcoholic beverage, before the haircut
I remember saying, after I got my first cut on this blog, that I had a mullet, and my new haircut made me look like a tobacco lobbyist. Actually, this was a bit of a fabrication. I’ve never really had a mullet, and I don’t really know what a tobacco lobbyist looks like, although I imagine more of them have mullets than any other collection of lobbyists in Washington DC (except perhaps the Firearms lobbyists).
But I do think that mullets rock, if only in a reactionary sort of way. I don’t think I’ve seen an actual mullet since the mid-90’s, but if they no longer exist in urban America, there’s still a lot about of it on the web. 30 sites, to be exact, the best one being about something or other. I don’t remember, cause I really hate mullets. And Budweiser. God, I hate Budweiser. Give me a glass of good Old Dominion chardonnay any day.
Which brings me to Harry Potter, and the dips spouting their cruelly unfounded beliefs over at the Chris Matthew’s show on Sunday. Harry Potter rocks, they said, their mouths open and, yes, drooling over the concept of meeting JK Rowling for a little one on one.
“I think Harry Potter could teach our undereducated young ones to read,” said one.
“Harry is beating out Hillary due to one thing,” Chris Matthews correctly pontificated, “JK Rowling doesn’t tell lies, and doesn’t slander her opponents, like Hillary does.”
“And she teaches kids to enjoy books. Hillary, by contrast, worships at the altar of illiteracy…” added another.
“And she’d make a lousy president, too.”
“Hillary thinks that all illiterate people are stupid. She thinks that if people just buy but don’t read her book, they’ll think that what she says is the truth, because they haven’t developed critical thinking skills.”
And so on.
But here’s the pickle. The Order of the Phoenix is like 900 pages long. And it sucks. And it teaches bad morals. It’s abstract, and teaches kids to loath the unredeeming influence of a Lord Voldemort and love the universal goodness of Harry. And that’s why adults really dig this shit.
Kids just like a good story. That’s why morally equivocal yarns from the pen of Roald Dahl have been bestsellers for years. The villains are heinous, but sympathetic. You feel sorry about the Aunts when the peach crushes them. Or when the spoiled rotten punks from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory meet horrible ends. And his protagonists tend to be misfit children, without much redeeming value unless they’re supported by their friends. Harry isn’t so much a misfit, but more a hero suppressed by circumstance, buy nay, I’ve deconstructed too much.
Fuck Harry Potter. Buy James and the Giant Peach instead.
-duckwing, at 10:29 PM
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Wednesday, June 25, 2003
A Concise Review of Some of Michael Savage's Favorite Restaurants
(This is a parody more on Selden Rodman than on Michael Savage, unfortunately. Given that most people haven't read Tounges of Fallen Angels, I hope most will forgive the fact that this is probably the nerdiest thing I've ever posted. That's all.)
I recently got a chance to hang out with Michael Savage as he gave me a tour of San Francisco and some of his favorite restaurants.
"I hate Chinese restaurants," Michael confided in me as he took a cable car into downtown. "They remind me of those soy-suckers. Y'know.." he whispered so the other passengers couldn't hear. "...asians."
"Plato said, if I remember correctly," I stated, noting the wildness in his eyes as he gazed upon the downtown pedistrians waiting idlely on curbs.
"But, whether true or false, my opinion is that in the world of knowledge the idea of good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right, parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally, either in public or private life must have his eye fixed."
"Yes, I agree," Savage said, but ravenously hungry for dissent. "I once send a postcard with those sentiments to Allen Ginsberg, but he never replied."
"What attracted you to Ginsberg?" I asked.
"As a man, he was beautiful..." Savage mused, "when I was a boy, named Michael Weiner, he touched my world with his poetic aplomb. His spirituality was undeniable. And his masculinity was unavoidable..."
"I know..." I said, but so many questions, and so little time. Because for Michael Savage, it wasn't about homosexuality, or even pure unbridled lust for the male form. For Michael, it was only an excuse to go to boring American restaurants...
Today, Michael Savage has more love for his own voice that Allen Ginsberg's. But that has not stopped him and his entourage from attending Aliotos.
"Where else in San Fransico can you find dearmeat for those with a more discerning palate," Michael Savage kidded me as we sat down to dine on half cooked sea mollusks. "I hate books," he said as he nudged me painfully in the ribs, "Bonfire..."
But remember what Ezra Pound said, I said as I quoted him perfectly:
"Properly, we should read for power. Man reading should be man intensely alive. The book should be a ball of light in one's hand."
"Power," Michael said, "mollusks..." he added as he wiped off his chin.
Suffice it to say, that Aliotos sucked. So we went over to La Flece (Italian Cuisine), which only subtely reminded us of Mussolini, and the power fascists hold on a democratic majority.
"I like lasagne," Michael Savage quipped.
"Don't you mean lasagna," I asked...
"Haha..."
"You are a nerd, Michael Savage..." I stated, without understatement, mind you.
"Enjoy the rest of your visit..." Michael Savage said.
So I left his station, and as I walked out into the sweet romantic San Franciscan air, I internally quoted Ernest Hemingway, who said to me once...
"Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut."
-duckwing, at 9:31 PM
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Tuesday, June 24, 2003
Deal of the Millenium
I have noticed that my "profile" labels me as a "Poet, Author, Journalist." I imagine that some people may be confused as to poet part, as I've never actually put up a poem on this site. That is about to change.
This poem began as a little four bar ditty I composed on the way to work, much in the same rhyme and meter as the Lewis Carroll poem "Jabberwocky."
I remember those flaxen sorrow braids
And I Remember California
But Dismissed your Case as State in Laid
And hardly ever mourned ya.
This was meant to be the conclusion to an epic verse, but I really didn't have any material to go with it today. So I turned it into a political verse about our current President, as I am wont to do, and called it "Deal of the Millenium." Here it is:
Deal of the Millenium
The truth untold, most weren’t consoled
By the visions of a dot-com paradise lost
So the tinkerers and twidlers and hoary bastards unrolled
An alternative plan, without such a cost
Behold a new chief, without all the grief
And come closer, He Twinkles and Grins
College boy, was a sneak, but He’s turned over a new leaf
Put Him in, he’d sure like to Win!
With an air of compassion (cause that’s all the fashion)
He stumbles quite smugly as he stirs up the pot
An ironic concoction of more love but less rations
We’ve quite a good catch, those tinkerers thought
And with Twink “elected” (or at least not rejected)
Or at least just accepted by the “People in Charge!” ™
Perhaps, and just maybe, because he wasn’t quite selected
Birthed the thought his brain -I should be saluted as “Sarge!”
So, he thought, and he thought, and if his thoughts numbered seven
Not a glut in his gut could be unraveled to discern
But praise be to heaven, there came nine-eleven
And quite a few things this Twinkler learned.
At first truth was hazy, so he mimic’d John Wayne (Gacy)
To stand tall and quite manly so the ladies would swoon
Give no strength to the crazies, and dissent would not faze he
Thought a lot of material backed up his new hero croon
Yet dissent came a tricklin’, and quite a bit of prickling
Came sudden to the Newly Christened New World Regime
This must be a joke, Old Rover did spoke (strickened)
With our Unified vision, this must be a dream
But dream, it was not, and suppression was sought
Until dissenters were content on the flats of their back
There must be a something, a single World thought,
So Ol’ Rover decided, let’s disarm Iraq
So that’s our situation, and on this situated foundation
Twink will lose his support till the next major war
And the tinkerers and twiddlers will endanger the Nation
Until the day we stand up and explain what we’re for.
-duckwing, at 11:19 PM
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Monday, June 23, 2003
On to the Compost Heap of History!
A lot of people ask me what's the best way to dispose of their loved ones remains once their dearly beloved pass on to the Other Side.
To which I always respond, "Go Compost."
Composting is a new age trend in burial methodology. Instead of embalming the corpse in formaldehydes and other perservatives, or exposing the body to a "Baptism by Fire" a la cremation, the body is simply wrapped in a nice organic-friendly sheet, and dumped six feet into the ground as fertilizer. I think that's the way to go.
And truthfully, as a kid, I thought that was the way traditional burials were done. How else could one explain the horror movies in which zombies emerged from graves as skeletons with only rank pieces of flesh clinging to their bones. Or the ghost stories in those little Scholastic readers we read in grade school, one of which always concerned the terrifying prospect of "Premature Burial."
Given the fact that I didn't work or live in a mortuary, there wasn't much evidence discernable in popular culture that traditional burials were done any other way than putting the body in a sportjacket and a dress, and sticking it into a casket.
So I got a rude awakening. One that I have never really fully accepted. Traditional burial seems like a cop-out in a way. They get rid of rapidly decomposable fluids (Blood, black bile, etc.) and replace it with poisonous and very stinky formaldehyde, all in the name of prolonging the date for an open-casket funeral so that it's a little more "convenient." After the body is dumped in the dirt, these noxious preservatives seep out into the environment, causing the environment to get pretty pissed off at mankind as a result.
The environment responds by unleashing tornados and earthquakes upon all mankind, kind of like a general "Fuck You for Poisoning our Environment!"
"Does it look like we want to be a Forrest Preserve in the literal sense?" the various trees and grasses of this continent seem to ask. "We allow ourselves to biodegrade, why can't you?" as the wind blows and curves their gentle blades and petals downward into frowns.
So I think that traditional burial is out of the question. Unless you have to wait a few weeks to get a proper funeral. Or if Jesus is planning to arrive to revive our corpses for our Day of Judgement soon.
I think that Cremation is a bad idea, too. Do you really want to be confined to the Ash Heap of History, or the Compost Heap of History? We won't pull straws for this one. The thought of my flesh consumed by fire, transformed into gases that will contribute for many years to the summer smog of my city, is too much of a bummer to be responsible for.
So I think that "Going Compost," is the way to go. It this way, we return our organic (and inorganic!) vitals back into the Circle of Life. And if Jesus returns and is pissed off by our appearance, well, I guess I'd still make a pretty striking skeleton.
-duckwing, at 8:19 PM
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Sunday, June 22, 2003
Dean on Meet the Press
I only caught about a third of Dean's performance on "Meet the Press." Nonetheless, I feel completely capable in commenting on it.
First off, I am extremely annonyed in the comparisons of Howard the Dean to McGovern, considering 1.) Dean has not won the Primaries, and 2.) Dean has not lost the presidency by unbelivablely large margins.
"Howard the Duck" might have been a huge box-office faliure, one that emotes snickers from the "hipster" crowd, but we haven't seen the total returns yet from "Howard the Dean." Yet.
That said, I think that Dean did okay on MTP. Not spectatular, but if everyone was spectacular all the time, than "spectacular" would be "ordinary." And ordinary sucks big time.
Dean has made some impressive performances in his campaign so far. This wasn't one of them, but I certainly won't harp on that. I'll wait until he wins the primaries, and then I'll harp.
BTW, the Dukakis comparisons are hilarious. Dukakis was a wishy-washy moderate, albeit a wishy-washy moderate Massachusettes. To say that Dean is wishy-washy is silly. Really silly.
Heh.
-duckwing, at 8:49 PM
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Thursday, June 19, 2003
Ack!
Ack easily wins as my current favourite word of the month.
Originally popularized as the pithy catchphrase of Bill the Cat (tm), it has taken on a life of its own, in it's own weird way.
Say it loud, say it proud! Say it like an True Red-Blooded American.
"Ack!"
I'd love to elaborate on this, but I unfortunately have a doctoral defense scheduled at 11 o'clock in the AM. Right now, I only have a Powerpoint title page in groovy 15 point Courier New, and some extremely vague statistical data to back it up, but I'm sure I'll score some suave points with my compadres, even if I'm not exactly sure exactly what I'm going to talk about.
Ack.
Coming up, as soon as I can kife Adobe Photoshop from work and download it here, I'm going to have a review of the genius of Dino DeLaurentiis, his KONG, and my upcoming matchup with Lennox Lewis.
It'll be cool...
-duckwing, at 11:55 PM
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Tuesday, June 17, 2003
Give Charlie Daniels a Hug!
I'm a little worried about Charlie Daniels today, given his recent remarks in a "Soapbox" article featured on his website. To quote:
"I am losing my mind up here in the Oklahoman mountains. Solitude and death. My chickens are dropping dead in my hen house one by one -each and every day. I hear their screams in the morning as they annouce that the Reaper had returned to their abode the previous night. My rooster won't go near the place anymore...and I am trying to make a stew from the dead chickens' remains, but thoughts keep cropping up from the reserves of my deep and ponderous mind. Dark thoughts...but relentless!
'Ack...is it Apocalyptic? The proverbial End of Days is fast approaching, or so I hear from the many spiders who crawl on my skin as I write this, causing much itching and mad burning of the loins. The devil appears to me as George Clinton, speaking in strange, strange tongues. And whom I hate very, very much. Buy my new album."
Well, I think it's about time ol' Charlie got out of the ranch, don't you?
To which I propose a new charity, the "Put Charlie Daniels on a Plane Headed for San Francisco" Fund. Similar, I guess, to the "Make a Wish" Foundation, but a little weirder. Given the Earthquake frequency in that part of town, I figure maybe the Apocalypse will occur in Charlie D's eyes sooner than even he thought. And I think he'd be much happier for the experience.
-duckwing, at 7:14 PM
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Shake a Bombon!
Today was boring. I facetiously called in sick today, due to fact that I have a grand total of at least 2 full years in sick leave allotted to me, and spent the day enthralled with daytime TV.
Somehow, some of my friends ended up crashing at my place with a fifth of Ol' Kentucky bourbon and a bag of weed for the day. We ended up watching some daytime TV show called "Monica," which is similar to other TV shows of a "Jenny Jones" format, but on Univision. Given that most of us don't speak a lick of Spanish, we were trying to decipher what the people of the show were actually talking about, or at least the show's theme for the day.
The title came up eventually, it was:
"Socorro! Mi Mama Es Un Bombon!"
Which I helpfully translated out as:
"(Some Exaggeration)! My Mom is a bon-bon!"
So we stared at the show -obviously there were mothers coming on with their sons and daughters to discuss their problems with "Monica." So I knew I got the "Mama" part right. One of the guys suggested getting an online translator to figure this out. So we all gathered around the computer as he'd typed it out.
Result:
"Help! My mother is a box of chocolates!"
We weren't completely convinced by this, so typing it all out in lowercase revealed:
"aid or assistance! my breasts are chocolates!"
Well, that was totally wrong. We knew that "Mama" referred to "Mother," due to the situation given on TV. We also figured that "bombon" was some kind of slang term not yet know to us, as given by Ricky Martin's immortal claim to "Shake yer Bombon! Shake yer Bombon!" we felt we we're missing something.
But not enough to really fuss about, because right after "Monica" we rocked out to "Guerra De Los Sexos," which is undoubtedly the coolest show on TV, especially if you don't speak Spanish. The show apparently involves a lot of taunting, people popping balloons against each other, and running around and screaming a lot. The whole show is so unbelievably hyper that linguistical inference is totally unnecessary, and would probably just drag down the show.
Being thoroughly English, I almost consider watching Univision to be a cosmic cipher into life, the apocalypse, and everything else. Which is really cool. Cause I think that we are expecting that people who speak another language other than our own native language to have something really different and cosmic to say about things that the usual drivel we usually hear in the media usually leaves out.
It's not true, of course. Any United Nations translation totally throws away the idea that different languages lead to truly different perspectives. Differences are naturally political or cultural, never linguistical.
-duckwing, at 12:24 AM
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Thursday, June 12, 2003
Winston Churchill: Man of Letters, Wit, Strength in Days of Infamy, and Great Apostle in Matters of Divine Providence
I know that's a mouthful, but I feel we must remember, brothers, to look backward to the men who imposed themselves as Pillars of Character and Integrity against the evil tempest winds of change and time, when these things are imposed on us as they are now. These men are few and far between, yes, but in times of great calamity can rise tall and speak the words of entire Nations, nay, Continents. May I humbly remind you of the late, Great Winston Churchill. Now mostly remembered for his stiring quotes, may Winston Churchill also be revered as a man of tenacity and great piety.
"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." -Winston Churchill
Y'know, I don't know about you, but that quote moves me to tears every time I hear it. And I know I'm not the only one, for it also moves the people of This Great Country, so stirred by his way with words and complete faith in Christ that they hold up placards with pictures of Winston Churchill's face on them at Professional Wrestling matches all across America. Because Winston Churchill, wherever he originally came from, was at heart an American, a Leader in Christ and of the Free World, and apperently one of the only politicians who understood what the proper orifice is to best enjoy a cigar.
"I drink a good deal, sleep little, and smoke cigar after cigar. That is why I am in 200 percent shape." -Winston Churchill
"This is a day that shall live in infamy, so much so, that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself" -Again, Churchill
It just totally blows my mind that, here in America, we've had leaders that were that intense about upholding the Ideals of Free Civilization. Such leaders are far and few between. But I would have never guessed that a sucessor to Bill Clinton would have held these same qualities. And yet this man has emerged, from the ashes of 9/11, to save the world one more time. His name is George "Dubya" Bush, and he wears that "dubya" on his Red, White, and Blue lapel as a relic and shrine for the prayers of the American People in these times, and as a beacon for us to find our way out of the darkness, and into the light of Iraqi Liberation.
And he is, like Churchill, a Great Orator and easy to quote from:
"The most important job is not to be governor, or first lady in my case."
"Rarely is the question asked: is our children learning"
"Actually, I -- this may sound a little West Texan to you, but I like it. When I'm talking about -- when I'm talking about myself, and when he's talking about myself, all of us are talking about me."
"I think we agree, the past is over."
And I think that says it all, really.
-duckwing, at 10:26 PM
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Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Throw Rotten Tomatoes at My Editor
I was fumed today when my editor and web designer, Arthur Abernathy (AA, we call him), took matters into his own hands, hacked into my blogger subaccount, and wrote that bit of treacle posted below. He had no gift for language, that AA, and his politics were unknown to me until this fatal point.
"Dude" I steamed as I marched into his office, "delete that post. It's bullshit! I did not say that!"
"Calm down, Bill," he said patiently from his desk, "it's all good. Once people realize that your blog is just a bad joke, people will love you. We'll get book deals, magazine articles, lead stories in newspapers around the globe. This will all blow over in time."
"You know what, AA. This is your bad. That stupid friggen layout, our stupid deal with Blogspot, your coercing me into writing stupid praise about that dumb-ass "wit" Piet Mondrian to cover your ass. That's it, we're through!"
AA looked up at me, stunned. Tears came to his eyes, slowly at first, but then like faucets on full blast. He buried his face in his hands.
"No, Bill...no..." he sobbed, "You can't do this to us, after we worked so hard on this thing together. We're a team, for Christsakes!"
"Out! I'll run things here from now on, AA."
And as he got up, turned, and started to walk out the door, I found a slimy rotten tomato on the desk. Picking up the tomato, I turned and lobbed it perfectly at the back of his head.
"Splat!" He turned and looked at me, as if to ask "Why?"
"Begone, thoust horrid devil. Away from thine sight! Thoust liar, thoust cheat! Thou mender of good will! Begone!"
And that was the end of our partnership -If you want to throw a tomato at AA, you can do so virtually in the comments section of this post. I highly recommend it.
So I'm alone for now -I'll try to work out all of this html jibber-jabber soon, and put some links up. Stay tuned.
-duckwing, at 1:38 PM
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Tuesday, June 10, 2003
A Disclaimer, and The Truth
I am not Bill Duckwing -this is the man behind the curtain speaking.
And I am at a loss for words. A scathing review I got on The Weblog Review confirmed for me that maybe some people wouldn't really get the idea that most of what I have to say or have done is in parody, and mostly in reaction to other people I read on web that offend my liberal-libertarian sensibilities. I consider myself a disciple of the school of Hunter S. Thompson journalism (not saying I'm anywhere near as good as he is), in which journaism, political opinion, and fiction become entwined. I deliberately do not say: "This is parody, this is a joke" because of the perhaps mistaken notion that the best satire is read when people don't really know they're reading satire. Because then it'll dawn on them: this is a little too extreme to be the truth, this must be a joke.
I get linked to a few liberal websites, and to absolutely zero conservative websites. So I think that most people that read this site get the joke. I do not beat people up that insult my American Pride. I do not shoot hares for fun. The quote attributed to me in the review, specifing my disdain for "World War Bush" was actually a tag line written by the guy that writes the blog himself -and that I simply recipro-linked through Bloglinker. The "W" for peace sign (from way back) was actually a quote from an actual conservative blog that I though was just very funny.
And I don't shake my finger at people who would disagree with me here. Because anyone that would agree with many of my opinions here would have to be insane. Or a super-partiotic American. Take your pick.
So I am completely shocked. Really. I don't think the reviewer is stupid, because the review makes a good logical argument out of the whole thing, so maybe I'm just being too subtle in writing my posts.
The whole superpartiot thing is really only one piece of the pie that is this blog, though. But since it's obviously the thing that affected my reviewer the most, here goes my pithy explanation:
I get annoyed by America's arrogance toward the world sometimes. But rather than just say that, like many other people do, I'd rather engage in parody to mock the attitutes exibited by some of the people in this country who truely think they are Holier Than Thou.
And there are lots of them here.
And, no, I really don't like George Bush, as he panders to the HTT ethic more than most.
Bill Duckwing is essentially a fictional character, whose attitutes and opinions are always to be taken with at least two heaping pounds of salt. I think that the central dogma that is Bill is contained in the post below, which is why I say it's one of my favorites, but he can be a right-wing numbskull, a Jesus Freak (I'm actually an agnostic), disruptive, or whatever, depending on what mood I want to put the character. Some of it does reflect what I think is true, or is based on truth, but usually what comes out has been so exaggerated and fictionalized that it usually must be considered fiction.
So there you go. Just don't take it too seriously, okay?
Unless the reviewer was just messing with me -then, wow, maybe I should be taking myself far less seriously...
-duckwing, at 10:45 PM
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I Had a Crap Day
(Note: I orginially posted this on April 18th, so if you've read this before, skip it. One of the problems with blogging, is that your best stuff evenually ends up in the Archives Neatherworld. This is, without a doubt, my favorite posting so far, so I reprint it again, just for the hell of it)
"We should be seizing weapons of mass destruction, not people..." -Winston Churchill
"I forsee a future, a great future, where we have met our enemy, a horrible enemy, mind you, and he was Sadaam Hussein..." -Walt Kelly, creator of "Pogo"
As my title suggests, I didn't have a happy day today. It started with waking up and walking outside onto my balcony. It was cool, so I considered wearing a sweatshirt and jacket, but it was also early in the morning. I noted how yesterday morning doing the same thing I noticed it was cool, but then shot up to the upper 80's by noontime. I brought a jacket, which I had to stuff in my backpack on the way home from work since it was impossible to wear. So I said to myself, fuck that, I not falling for this for a second time, and headed out of my apartment with a just a short sleeved shirt on.
Well, of course we had a record day with blustering winds and a high in the upper 40's.
Damn.
But that was just the start. I had a truly horrrid moment of bad karmic assessment when I got into work and sat down at my desk to read my email. An email annoucing a two hour dept. suprise meeting greeted my dark, caffine deprived eyes, totally messing up my work schedule for the day, and providing no lunch, despite that it ran from noontime to well after 2:00.
So that was bogus, and yeah, there's more...
My ultra-cool lab assistant Slinks McB (yeah, not her real name...) usually sing-songs to and fro while dissecting beef hearts, but today I could actually decipher which song she was singing, which was a great rendition of Yoko Ono's "Don't Worry."
"Hey, that sounds great, Slinks," I said.
She smiled politely.
With all respect to the dead, I was about to go into the fact that, as wives of former Beatles go, the former Fluxist was actually a way better singer/musician that Linda McCartney, but then the phone rang...
Not recognizing the number on the call ID box, I let it ring a few times before picking it up. Make the caller on the other line think that you're right in the middle of a project and so incredibly busy that you had only a few fatal seconds to rush over to answer the phone before voicemail picks it up. It helps if you sound out of breath...
"(huff, huff) ...Hello," I said.
"When are you going to let us kill off these pigs, asshole?"
It was Gene "I Am a Demon Godhead" Clark, dude in chief of the Care for Laboratory Sacrificial Lambs Dept. He seemed to be upset about the uninspiring death toll on his watch so late in the morning.
"Dude, chill...think about this for a second..."
"Fuck you! We have YOUR two porkers down here eating our refuse. That costs money, Bill...Muchos muchos mulah, buddy. So either we kill them today, or I'm going to take them out on a field day this weekend and test out my new Bushmaster."
"Look, guy...I'm sure we can work out a compromise. I'm swamped today, buddy. I don't have the time..."
"Well you better make the time," the Dark Lord said, "because otherwise...(unintelligble demon talk)..and we shall raise the dead to serve in our Army of Darkness bent to the Black Will of our Demon Sorcerer Lord Lucifer, who will once again rule this vacant armpit with cruel and pitiless contempt!"
So I hung up the phone. And, after praying to Jesus and asking Him for grace and eternal vigalence against the forces of the damned, I slumped back down at my desk. Soon a long shadow appeared in the doorway to my lab.
"Bill Duckwing?"
I looked over, pitifully. "Yes," I answered.
"Bill, I am with Universal Lab Calibration Systems, Ltd. Would you like to stand around with me for a few hours this morning while I give you an estimate for calibrating every single item in your laboratory?"
I had a crap day.
-duckwing, at 11:52 AM
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Picking Radom Words to Google Department
Today's words were "screaming pickle," which I thought up and typed into Google, in hopes of finding a few matches. Sure enough, I got over 13,000 matches. There's even a "humor" website called Screaming Pickle.
They're like an imitation Onion, expect that they are not even remotely funny. But they're taking applications for writers, critics, and cartoonists, if ya really wanna apply.
-duckwing, at 11:31 AM
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Preposterous
TomPaine.com has an article about the "New Democratic Majority." The articles big message of hope is:
"Before this decade is over, the Democrats are likely to complete this journey."
Bullocks. Here are some extenuating factors that render this article null and void:
Can the Republicans continue a politics that successfully mobilizes their constituencies and demobilizes the Democrats'? There are certainly scenarios under which national security could continue to crowd out other issues and perform this function for the Republicans, as it did in 2002.
But the more likely scenario is that the importance of national security will ebb and flow and that it will become more, not less, contested between the parties. In this case, the underlying trends described here are likely to come to the fore and continue to move the country toward a new Democratic majority
Insane. National Security has been priority numero uno since 9/11, and I can't imagine that ebbing too much in the next year. In any case, once Campaign 2004 rolls around, Bushie and the 'Pubs will most definately bring that onto center stage, and nobody's going to care about boring stuff like jobs and Social Security.
This new Democratic majority is rooted in the growth of a post-industrial economy. The old industrial economy was based in cities and organized around assembly-line manufacturing, farming, and mining; the new post-industrial economy is based in large metropolitan areas -- or "ideopolises" -- that include cities and suburbs and are organized around the production of ideas and services. Many of these ideopolises are found in the North and far West -- like metropolitan Boston, Silicon Valley or the Seattle area -- but they can also be found in the North Carolina Research Triangle, the Maryland and Virginia suburbs of D.C., and the Tuscon and Phoenix areas in Arizona.
During the 1980s, many of the people in these areas voted for Republicans; but in the 1990s, they began to elect Democrats, and the Democratic party itself began to change to reflect the priorities of the people who live there. They include a growing number of professionals and technicians -- from computer programmers and financial analysts to teachers and nurses.
Mondo crazy. I live in Northern Virginia, a suburb of DC where most people won't take your politics seriously unless you're brandishing a handgun. Boston, Bay Area, Research Triangle, Seattle, for christsakes? Their suburbs read like the Liberal Anarchist's phonebook (I have no idea what that is, but send me a copy if you got it.)
My point is that the Red States are never going to vote for the Democrats again, the suburbs will probably tilt a little more right wing due to National Security, and the cities are becoming more and more Republicanized as 1.) More and more minorities, particularly hispanics, whom the Republican party is most rapidly winning converts, are becoming Republican, and 2.) National Security.
Whole books have been written about the encroaching Democratic/Progressive majority. E.J. Dionne wrote a book in 1997 called: They Only Look Dead: Why Progressives Will Dominate the Next Political Era. I don't claim to guess what's going to happen in the next century, or even the next decade or so. But I know that the progressives are definately in the minority right now.
Jay Leno, a pretty good barometer for public and media opinion, if any is I guess, was on tonight with an "interview" with Hillary Clinton, in which they sampled some of Hillary's answers from a completely different interview, with Jay Leno's hilarious "questions." It was susposed to be "comedy" but I remember this type of thing being a staple from Rush Limbaugh's radio show a decade ago.
Sorry to be so gloom and doom, but man, we've come a long way, baby.
-duckwing, at 12:24 AM
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Monday, June 09, 2003
Dennis Kucinich Wants Your Vote
Alternet has an article on Dennis Kucinich, your liberal idealist for president.
The only real problem I have with Kucinich is that, if he were elected President of the United States, I would have to throw off every preconceived notion, and pretty much every practical thought I've ever had, out the window and embrace the fact that nobody really knows what the hell is going on in America.
I don't know if my brain would be ready to take that kinda of radical upheaval just yet.
-duckwing, at 6:39 PM
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Monkeypox Outbreak!
Outbreak in the Midwestern states, and more that 30 cases are being investigated, according to the BBC.
It's not usually a fatal disease, but it is suspected to be transmitted through contact with prarie dogs.
More to come...
-duckwing, at 5:27 PM
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22nd Annual Vintage Virginia Wine Festival, on Location
(pictures might take a while to load)
They say that wine is the stuff of life, so I decided I was going to do a lot of living at the 22nd Annual Vintage Virginia Wine Festival, which was held last weekend in The Plains, Virginia.
The festival is notable for its unusual congregation of hippies, deadheads, Sodomites, protesters, rednecks, neo-nazis, beatniks, Goth children, Middle Americans, boll weevils, vile toads, and Congregationalists. All mixed up on one farm, all drunk, with nowhere to escape.
The directions told me to take Interstate 66 out to Gainesville/Warrington, a boring little farm town/suburb, and one of those Interstate-side communities that pretty much lie along one road perpendicular to the Interstate. After I got off my exit, I immediately got stuck in traffic, which carried on for the next 15 miles or so. Finally I got to Meadowbrook Farms, the site for the festival. From there I immediately got herded in with the other cars waiting for a place to park, as police officers flagged us every which way into one of apparently fifteen dozen gates.
It was muddy, due to a rainstorm that ravaged the area on Saturday, so that everyone who bought a ticket for the weekend decided to go on Sunday. And the mud was bad –about half a foot thick or so. Cars slid around the farm in many humorous directions, some sliding downhill by themselves as hapless owners tried in vain to push their vehicles uphill again. I drove another couple of miles, checked by police officers flagging me over onto some newly created mud path, with their shotguns pointed down at the ground, I guess in case I got a little frustrated by things and decided to gun my car into one of the muddy ditches, and call it “parked.”
When I finally parked my car, it was about a 25-minute walk back to the tents, through yet another muddy path, this one marked by cow trails, pedestrian traffic, and, yes, hare footprints.
Hareprints (a contraction of my own devising) are much bigger that you’d expect, and leave deep impressions in the ground. In addition, they fight each other a lot, which is sometimes evident in cases where two sets of hare tracks become entangled, and impressions of the head or flanks of one or both of the hares can be distinctly seen in the mud.
Hares are very common in certain parts of rural Virginia, and for this reason, they are popular hunting targets with some of the folks in the local community. Why this is, I have no idea, so I asked Dr. Rob McGillicuddy (name changed per request) for an explanation:
“We just like huntin them cause it’s fun,” Dr. Rob explained, “you see the cold chill of fear wash over them, and you see the tremble in the whites of their eyes, when you say to ‘em, ‘Hello, wabbit, o’er here!’ and them fire a couple of warning shots…”
From there, according to Rob, the hares run off in the opposite direction of the hunters, which makes them easy pickings to a quick and nimble hunter with good aim.
“Hares are dumb,” says Rob, “they don’t even zigzag or nuthin. The just bolt out in the opposite deerection, and from then on there it’s easy to get them.”
But Rob really comes to the Festival for the wine.
“I like all the wines, wines from Virginia, that is. I sniff the bouquet, swirl it around, and reflect for a moment as I withdraw and hold it up to the (sun)light. I particularly like Viogniers and Rieslings, but some of the fruitier concoctions, also. Particularly peach and pear, especially if they’re good and bubbly.”
He paused to reflect a moment, and then added:
“And I don’t like men who are sweaty and have big muscles. I think that’s just gross…I prefer scrawny men, who are lithe and agile. And who can be taught a thing or two about the rigors of love.”
Dr. McGillicuddy aside, there are actually two types of wine tasters. Those that get into the front of the line and sample a splash all of the wines, while making small talk with the wine servers, for about a half hour or so while the other people behind them get all pissed off and stuff –and those that only idle around and sample half of the wines before getting bored with their server and finding another wine tent. Some of the people at the festival liked to carry their wine glasses around with them in wineglass holders, which you wear around your neck. These people were all stupefyingly drunk.
I never did get a chance to shoot some hares for myself. The rules called for participants to bring their own rifles to the festival, and unfortunately, I left mine at home. Oh well, maybe next year.
-duckwing, at 1:33 PM
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Friday, June 06, 2003
Off to The Plains This Weekend
This weekend, I will be heading off to The Plains, Virginia, to partake in the 22nd annual Vintage Virginia Wine Festival. The Plains, VA is about a one hour drive out west from Washington, DC, but I make the drive annually to get out of the city and mix with the "rustic folk."
And hopefully, this time I will I'll have the courage this time around to engage in "prarie hare hunting," a popular sport out in western Virginia, that is a staple of the wine festival. I'll post a complete article of my experiences Sunday night.
-duckwing, at 9:05 PM
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What the Hell is Wrong with This Country
Jesus H Christ! Et tu, Delta Burke?
The actress famous for her portrayal as Suzanne Sugarbaker in CBS's classic Designing Women, and for "designing" her own fabulous apparel for fat women, has come out against George Bush and his administration. Quote:
"George Bush is a disgrace to his country. He obviously lied about Sadaam's WMD building and operations in Iraq. So I, quite frankly, will find it hard to believe anything else that comes out of his mouth while he's still in office."
But wait, there's more:
Mel Gibson:
"George Bush is a crafty cheating thug, who has embarrassed and wounded our American Pride with his lies and deceit."
Bruce Willis:
"Well, suffice to say, I wouldn't sit down to play a hand of poker with the guy (George W. Bush)."
It's hard to believe that people are staking their reputations on this whole WMD's being missing thing. If these people could get over themselves for one second, maybe they would find something else to focus on besides slandering a SITTING AMERICAN PRESIDENT. Maybe like a career, in Delta's case.
Some of my more pathetic Communist friends snicker when I make these kind of pronouncements. If we were living back in better times, I could denounce them as heretics to the proper authorities, but we do not live in enlightened times.
I think that it should be obvious to everyone who has half a brain that Sadaam was one crafty little fox. He buried all of his weapons miles below the earth's crust, in an attempt to discredit our President and the CIA, because it should be obvious by now that we'd have found them by now if that were not the case. I mean, c'mon, Sadaam had only one chance out of this whole thing, and that is if he could deceive the World public to take up his case. Because he's a coward, and only cowards enlist others to fight their wars for them.
And it looks like he's winning the war of world public opinion. So it's up to America, and I say: America, hold your ground. Stay the course. Stand by Your Man (hint: his name is George W. Bush).
Thanks, America. Your Country Thanks You.
-duckwing, at 8:34 PM
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Thursday, June 05, 2003
The Al Franken vs. Bill O'Reilly Deathmatch
I was extremely annoyed to find the extremely distasteful comments on almost every single lefty blog lately concerning Bill O'Reilly's "attack" on the super annoying self-satisfied smuck Al Franken, which occured yesterday at the Book Expo America in Los Angeles on Sunday. Not only did these liberals totally misrepresent what Bill O'Reilly said at the conference, they also paid lip-service to a man who all but acknowledges his ties to the Bolshevik wing to the Democratic party. Here is a transcript for those who missed out:
Al Franken: And I say, now, to those who will hear me. That Bill O'Reilly is a closet fascist who's ancestors have been traced to both Nazi SS, and Genghis Khan. And he lied! He claims that his old show, Inside Edition, won the Peabody Award! Inside Edition (insert self-rightous smug here) only won the Polk Award, which of course only honors Capitalist thugs and propaganists in the Media. So, I say..."
Bill O'Reilly: Mr. Franken, I say...if you'll allow me to contradict you for a moment, sir. I'd like to point out the fact that I..."
Al Franken: You dare to contradict me! Shut up, you...just shut up! Capitalist fools like you have stymied the Bolshevik revolution in this country for long enough, thank you very much. Let me point out the fact that the bougeoise bastards have long shackled the proletariats with the chains of exploitation, and it is time for the true producers in this society to release themselves from the chains that bind them. If Mrs. Shroeder would please bind and gag this assailant to Proletariat freedom, I will continue..."
Pat Shroeder: Yes, master...
Bill O'Reilly: Mmph?!
And so on... I have to say that I am extremely disappointed in all the lefty blogs that have tried to mislead and American people about this situation. It's obvious who was in the wrong here.
Sigh...when will the liberals in this country finally figure out that we don't want a totalitarian dictatorship here in America. I am saddened by the comments of Mr. Franken, and all of those American humorists throughout history, like Mark Twain, who have tried to destroy the fabric of this country by tring to sell the same old Bolshevik statis quo to the American mind.
Shame on you, Mr. Franken, shame on you...
-duckwing, at 12:55 AM
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New Linkage
I link to Goebbeles the Turkey because he is fellow fowl, it's got a clever name, and also because the author probably thinks he's way too clever for his own good. Otherwise, it's just another blog.
-duckwing, at 12:18 AM
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Wednesday, June 04, 2003
Solution to the Disappearing Archives Problem
Given the fact that I've spent countless hours trying to work out the Disappearing Archives problem with blogspot, I've come up with an incredibly stupid solution that I'm sticking to just because it works. What I did was just copy some code from another template that does display my archives -it does this by including a link from the main blog site to another page with an archive links section to all the archive pages for the blog. Then I pasted it into my original template as hypertext, and published. So that if you click on the Archives link on this page, it'll take you to a completely different page with a completely different template. From there you can browse the rest of my archives.
Stupid? Yes. Unprofessional? Yes. But it's the only way I've figured out how to get around this incredibly stupid problem. This has happened to me almost every week since this month, so if you have any better, less stupid solutions, I'd love to hear them.
-duckwing, at 10:51 PM
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Tuesday, June 03, 2003
A Case for the Dixie Chicks
Try as I might, I've been in a sincere mood all day today, and tonight, and nothing I've tried to do to dissaude it has worked. So I give up -no ironic rants tonight, just pathos. If you're not up for reading a bunch of treacle and other lame tripe best served up on The Today Show, just go ahead and scroll down a few times to some of my other posts. They'll easily fill up your daily quota of bile, and more.
I knew today was going to be a bad day for Bill Duckwing when I decided that Howard Dean was going to be the next George McGovern. Howard Dean, Our Hero of the Left who will somehow beat the Democratic primaries to win the nomination, and stand to challenge George Bush in a final confrontation of Left vs. Right for our generation, much like those peacenik McGovernik's did against Tricky Dick in the 70's. Of course, our forebears lost bitterly in a landslide back then, so badly that scores of Democrats from that generation turned closet facist, joined the DLC, and vowed: "Never again!"
So it looks like Dean, even if he does win the nomination, doesn't have a chance in hell. But then an incredibly stupid idea took hold in my mind -"Hey, Bill" I said to myself, "all of those Lefty-Green guys out there, they account for maybe like 10% of the population, right? Well if they went along with Dean this time around, and they all, and I mean ALL, got off of their stupid lazy asses and voted this time around...Wow! Given that something like 45% of the country votes in presidential elections anyways, that 10% would become over an 20% electorate in a heartbeat! Then all we would have to do is like convince something like 30% of our fellow facist Democrats to join the fray, and if you throw in a McCainist 3rd party candidate to take away the pro-gun vote away from Bushie, and Voila! Dean wins the Presidency!"
Well, right. But hey, it's an early blueprint, at least. I honestly think the left can win this thing next year, and if they don't, well it's probably the last chance I'll see a candidate like Howard Dean come as close to winning the nomination in my lifetime, so I for one am going to put some effort into supporting him.
And are you ready for this? Dixie Chicks rock! How's that for pathos for ya, dude? My conversion tonight was facillitated by buying a Dixie Chicks album today called "Home" and realizing that, as much as I hate contempory country music, I really like this album. To be honest, I've always had a thing for rock-country and folk-country in the past, and Neil Young is one of my favorites as far as classic rock goes. So maybe this isn't a huge stretch for me. I've even enjoyed classic bluegrass at weird uncertain times in my life.
But to set the record straight, I've always hated Garth and Travis Tritt and Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers (except when he was in that psychedelic band First Edition, that totally rocked) and any number of bands and artists that pass for comtemporary pop country these days. And I lumped the Chicks in with those guys early on without actually hearing any particular songs of theirs, until they recently turned cool. I know that sounds superficial, but bear with me. I heard "Travelin' Soldier" on SNL before they said those infamous words that turned a whole nation against them, and I was like "Hey, these Chicks aren't bad, not bad at all." So it wasn't politics that drew me to the Chicks at first.
But, holy cow did they grow on me! Their cover on Entertainment Weekly (I think) confirmed it for me. These gals were something special. And it was cool because they seemed powerful in their beliefs, and yet incredibly naive. The cover did not seem to me to be a cynical cash in, nor an attempt at self-pity. And I usually can pick up on that stuff pretty quickly. So I bought the album, and, in spite of their incredible success, it reminded me of an old Woody Guthrie album in a way. I mean these girls aren't liberal intellectuals trying to convert us all into Marxists or anything. No invoking the ghosts of Trotsky or Eugene V. Debs here. They're just pretty simple girls from the country, who like folk and Woody Guthrie pathos, and also really dig America. And they can sing! And, in addition, they also think that George Bush stinks. Now, if it were Kip Winger out on stage bashing Bush on stage for some reason, I would be in the front ranks demanding that a gag order be imposed immediately. But we're talking about the Chicks here, man, and they, like, rock.
The only time I can really knock naivete is of the order of Ronald Regan explaining to the nation, "Oh, no man, I just fell asleep, and my right arm just kinda fell on that little red button there, and...Oh, shit." Because, to me, that's just cynical and manufactured. I can't really knock naivete on the order of the Dixie Chicks, because it's mixed with a healthy dose of idealism.
And if you can combine that with a good soundtrack, you've got my vote.
-duckwing, at 11:43 PM
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Monday, June 02, 2003
Game Over, Dude
Great. Sitting down to blog today, and the best thing I have is "Michael Medved is a Piece-of-Shit Commie Loving Slut." That was going to be my title, and I was going have fun with it. But alas, the FCC decided to deregulate everything today, and I was sent into a deep black pit of despair. Hence the title of today's post:
Game over, dude.
They won. They waged war with the American people, and they beat the piss out of us. What's next, you ask? Lines upon lines of desolate people of all walks of life in all the American cities, for mandatory branding with corporate media logos. That's what. It will soon be of no importance the question of who you are, nay, but rather what corporation owns you. Your name will cease to be "Bob Jones," but rather "AOL209," because then they'll have you, and none of your yips and cries that echo in the middle of the night as you remember the life you once had, no, this will not resonate with our Corporate Media Overlords!
So gnaw on that for a little bit. See how it tastes. Bitter, I'm sure. Maybe a little slimy. But let it sink in. Because it's the taste of defeat. You probably thought you were set, enjoying the good life in the midst of this economic depression. But, in your comforts and naivete, you let it sneak past you. You could've protested, signed a petetion, joined a parade, whatever. But no, you didn't do that. Or if you did, you just didn't care enough. Because the good guys lost, this time. All of the many active independent citizens putting out quality programming on our airwaves, writing competent, well-informed, and yet strangely non-biased newspaper stories, all of that is gone forever now. Because the corporate oligarchy will run them out of business faster than you can say "Rupert Murdoch."
I hope you're all satisfied with yourselves.
-duckwing, at 11:35 PM
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And the Bloggers are Winning!
From an Observer UK article on the web, it seems that more web users are turning to bloggers for their daily dish of news than the major news media outlets. And boy are they pissed!
As a blogger myself, somewhat active in the blog community, you can pretty much guess where I stand with this. It almost sounds like the Napster issue a few years ago, except more preposterous, and with fewer legs to stand on. The media's journalists, editors, publishers big beef is that bloggers are rank amatures, most without even a journalism degree to their name. And that the amatures are getting the top spots on Google rather than NY Times, Wash Post, et all.
Well, with about 64% thinking that the big media is just a bunch of hogwash, I think people are turning increasingly to the blogs for their news just because of that arrogance. Plus, we're more willing to link to others in the web community. Just try to find a list a links on the NY Times or something. More links = bigger prominence on Google, so I don't really get their beef, if they're not going to link to some of the more prominent bloggers.
But what really irks me is their assertion that prominent journalists are performing some sacred duty to us department. That they are somehow chosen to be journalists over the rest of us because of their education, their backgrounds, because they're paid by big media, and also somehow by divine providence. Well, bully for them. I don't believe that education nor divine providence makes a good jounalist. My chosen profession was biology, which takes a lot of background to master, but I still think that anyone who lacks education in the subject but still has a few good college textbooks can master it, or at least know as much as I do about it. I think that journalism as a profession requires even less education to master, so I think that the current democratization of journalism is a fine thing. So sue me.
-duckwing, at 12:20 AM
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