Here you see the DOD’s Central Command’s take on the civil conflict in Iraq as of 18 Oct 06. The HB looked at this chart and said, “Bloody, hell! What does it mean?” Well, any chart coming out of the bureaucratic quagmire that is the Department of Defence, will necessarily be obtuse. So, Anon will ‘splain it all.

The symbols on the left are defined near the bottom of the chart. So, we can see first that the political/religious leaders are increase(ing) their publicly hostile rhetoric (toward other groups, toward the U.S.? They don’t say) has been “routine.” Okay, now that you’ve got that; let’s see if we can put this in plain English. (more…)

One of my favourite holidays is the Mexican La Dia de los Muertos (the Day of the Dead). It starts on what we old-school Catholics used to call All Souls Day. Behind the celebration is the concept that you can commune with the spirits of your dearly departed. This idea appeals to me. The holiday started before the Christian era, but was co-opted by the priests who came with along with the conquistadors. They even moved the date of the holiday from mid-summer to coincide with All Souls Days in an effort to mitigate its pagan roots.

This year, however, La Dias de los Muertos has another meaning for me. I came across this picture of el Presidente Americano made from photos of many of the soldiers who have died in his vainglorious war. (more…)

You’ll remember that sometime back we had a lesson in polling and statistics. At that time I said,

This is just an idle Sunday musing. There’s nothing much happening on the political scene, right? Yeah, I know, but I’m not going there. Too many people have had too much fun with that situation already.

No, I’m thinking about inconsistency. Specifically, I’m thinking about inconsistency in politics. This isn’t about politicians, it’s about the public, it’s about you and me. Inconsistency in political philosophy leads to rationalization on a grand scale.

I didn’t come up with this myself. There was a piece on NPR about trying to find a name for people who are inconsistent in their political thinking. Some examples would be: environmentalists who drive SUVs, so-called ‘pro-lifers’ who believe in the death penalty, gay Republicans, Clintonian Democrats. Well, you get the drift. Frankly, I can’t remember all the various monikers that the NPR folks came up with because I immediately came up with what I think is the perfect name: Hypocrats. (more…)

–James Madison, The Federalist Papers, No. 51

Can we appeal to our better angels and, in turn, oblige ourselves to be more responsible? The problem for all of us ordinary stiffs was defined a few centuries back by Plato.

In “The Republic,” Plato describes a cave where people don’t see what’s really happening in their world. What they do see are shadows made by puppets and reflected on the walls. It’s not as if the people in the cave even see the puppets, they see the shadows of the puppets.

Today, we see the shadows of what the puppet masters want us to see. Don’t believe it? Where do you get your news? How do you know what’s going on in your world? More to the point, who owns your news source? (more…)

Some time back, near the train platform in our small town, the highway department planted a grove of trees. They are non-fruiting plum trees. They were planted in straight lines and seemed far too close together. I was sure that these little trees would never last. They looked as if they were in an island of loneliness where no one would look after them.

Yet, come the first spring, they were still there and flourishing. Years have passed and not one of them has died and they all perform their same ritual of blossoming and shedding each year. Noticing this pattern, I started to feel empathy for these “ladies.” I had decided by then that they were ladies. Why? Well, they put on their best finery every spring. They cover themselves with light pink blossoms but then, by May, their blossoms have fallen off and they are wearing the dark plum-coloured leaves that they will have through summer and into the fall. Come winter, they will lose their leaves and stand barren until the next spring. Year in and year out, the pattern never varies.

Then, one day I realized something about these ladies. Their dusky leaves look a lot like changeable silk taffeta. This fabric was very popular around the 1860s. It shines and appears to change colour as the garment moves. It comes in many colours, but around the time of the Civil War it came in a grey and a plum colour that were particularly popular. The ladies, I decided, were women who were waiting for their men to come home from the war. They get their hopes up every spring and wait by the train platform in their best pink finery. But, as April fades into May, and their soldiers don’t return; their pretty pink gowns are discarded. They put on their widows weeds of plum-coloured leaves. As winter approaches, with all hope gone, they stand there ragged. The rains come and go, the winter winds press against their limbs, and the widows keep their vigil.

Why Gaithersburg? Because it was a crossroads during the Civil War. Many a Confederate soldier left there, never to return. So, these are the widows of Gaithersburg. A small town still, no longer just a crossroads; but these widows with no fruit borne, await their Johnny Reb’s return and change their clothes as their hopes rise and fade.

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Well, well, well, Francis Fukuyama is sorry. Professor Fukuyama had thrown his lot in the neo-cons in the lead up to the Iraq War. Now 3 years later, he is admitting that he, and they, were wrong. “By invading Iraq, the Bush administration created a self-fulfilling prophecy: Iraq has now replaced Afghanistan as a magnet, a training ground and an operational base for jihadist terrorists, with plenty of American targets to shoot at,” Fukuyama now admits.

Unlike Ken (“It’ll be a cakewalk”) Adelman or Richard (“They’ll greet us with flowers”) Perle, Francis Fukuyama has finally given up the neo-con dream of world domination. (more…)

There are many things that are just ‘human.’ We all need to love. We all need to hope that there’s a tomorrow. We all need to laugh. We all have times when tears are all we have to express ourselves. And yet for all those things that we have in common; our cultures create chasms between otherwise amiable human beings.

Sometimes it’s a hegemonic encounter. As Masami Teraoka demonstrated in his series of drawings about the effects of American culture on Japanese culture; it can be more than jarring. It can distort or even destroy an ancient culture.

Then, there is the other problem of emigration. The newly arrived immigrant can find it hard to maintain those things that defined his/her culture. Often this becomes so difficult that assimilation is the preferred option. Then, the old culture becomes an artefact. Like a song that you can’t quite remember the lyrics to, it fades in and out of the assimilated person’s consciousness. After a generation or two, the old song is often lost. (more…)

Where does love go? How do you know when it’s gone? Since we’ve just been through the ritual of Valentine’s Day, it seems an appropriate time to ask that question. I, of course, have a theory. Of course I do.

I think all you have to do is look at how that person sees you. How can you tell that? Well, dig out those old photos. Here’s my theory: you can tell how a person feels about by how they photograph you. Trust me in this one. I’m a professional and I have a lifetime of experience.

Now, the picture here should have given the woman pause. She was on her honeymoon and her new husband took the photo. Now what was his focus? Yeah, it was that huge pipe; she’s a secondary player at best. It does not bode well. Of course, I have the advantage here. I know that less than 10 years later these two would divorce with such acrimony that they would never speak again.

So, dig out those photos. If you’re a little blip in his/her viewfinder, if he/she always seems to get you at a bad angle; then you’re in trouble, my friend.

The picture was taken at Boulder Dam in 1937.

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

(more…)

Old photos are the worst kind of memory recall: they won’t let you lie. There it is in black and white or, more likely, in shades of grey. Inevitably, one must the face the reality that the photo presents.

This photo is of a woman who was a friend. Her name is Carol. She had been dating a friend of mine, John. She and I rented a flat on a street that no longer exists. (more…)