Dry-Eyed and Bushy-Tailed

I wept. I admit it. Leatherneck-toughs like Colin Powell and Condi Rice did too. But it was hardly some grand personal catharsis. Give me a break.

The thought of this hapless pair, needle sharp instruments pressed into service as dull right-wing ear wax pickers, reminds me to give ol' W a few props. Sure ol' W carelessly played chicken with the $10 trillion public debt death train, ensuring an easy win for any quivering mass of protoplasm that the DNC could pile up behind the podium (to our great fortune, the DNC delivered an Obama, rather than a steaming pile). Both the MSM and Repub-pologists proffer this trite and vastly inane analysis of Obama's overwhelming victory.  But, admirably and incomprehensibly, ol' W first gave light to smart wonks in blackface. And, it is this light that shines on Obamadom.

In spite of all the good words of Democratic administrations, it took the second Bush to transcend bare tokenism in the non-HUD political appointment of black folks (mercifully limiting abject ineptitude to his white appointees for the most part).  Geez, from the Clinton administration riding a big, black wave, you get a lilly white cabinet -- save the resume-lite token Ron Brown. And from 41 you get the monumentally under-qualified proto-jurist Clarence "Coke Can" Thomas. I could recruit more articulate and knowledgeable brothers at my barber shop.

Ol' W gives you Condi Rice and Colin Powell,  duly qualified and exuding competence, and hands them real honest-to-goodness meaty cabinet jobs. (Ironically, this competence made them perfect shills for delivering on Bushie's moronic policy excursions). (As an aside, I was lucky enough to have Condi teach me an obscure graduate course in the sunny Western US.  Even in those days, when you couldn't imagine a future outside of teaching or authoring for even the most capable black academician,  I had little doubt that this clear-thinking, Russian-fluent, concert pianist was headed somewhere huge. She is truly one of the most remarkable people I've ever encountered. Colin, like me, is a second-generation Jamaican, so...). The upshot is that Collier's 94-year grandmother, G-d bless her soul, turns on her TV in East Texas, sees black folks competently working in the international sphere and pulls the lever for Obama. A sea change begins.

That the "other white folks" demurrer was never flung along with the other McCain dirt missiles gives this some credence. The "other white folks" demurrer goes like this "we're OK with this, but we're just worried about the other white folks who aren't enlightened as we are." Although OWF has largely lost it's domestic legs (except when some NYC power-Betty steals my cab, blaming the racism of the unwashed immigrant behind the wheel), it still works in the international sphere. But for Condi and Colin, we undoubtedly would have heard the poison strains of how the monkey chanting, Nazi saluting football (ugh, soccer) thugs that populate our EU allies are not quite ready for our enlightened political selection. Instead, we get 200,000 Germans screaming for Obama without a single monkey chant. Samuel Eto'o should be so lucky. 

Thanks, Colin. Thanks, Condi. Thank you, Shrub.

PC's Perfect Storm

An American election devolves into a seamless confluence of political correctness? I'd like to show you a Venn diagram of the vast territory of acceptable political discourse at the intersection of the buffer zones carved out in this election around ageism, sexism and racism, but my monitor's resolution is not fine enough to illustrate that sliver. If you add the culturally unassigned zone (I can't think of the "ism") that protects the Vietnam veterans and the dynamically-defined "war hero," that sliver evaporates.

Poor Joe Biden, middle-aged, white male left out in the cold to fend for himself, without a PC blanket to give him warmth.

In a good-faith effort to have everyone get along in our diverse and potentially volatile society, we've all retreated into little PC shells. Even our last, best hopes against PC hegemony, the rappers and the Republicans, have cleaned up their discourse. Snoop Dogg is busting country tunes n-word free (see infra below) and the GOP, finally, has warmed up to MLK (Geez, did anyone else see the Bubbas cheering wildly for the RNC intro video?).

I do want to Kumbaya with y'all, but, heck, I don't want the war of the "isms" to get in the way of meaningful discourse and inquiry. The non-Fox press (assuming that the Fox drivel-mongers still get credentials with a big "P") are getting pummeled with their own PC stick and can't even gin-up a respectable probing question to any non-Biden candidate. Get real.

Welcome to Wasillia

This is Wasillia, Alaska. Apparently, if you crawl to the top of the heap of ambitious young politicos in this hotbed of democracy, you learn to lead the free world.

You know, history will be made this election because, no matter who wins, there will be a respectable roundballer in the halls of power. Booyaka.

All Together Now...

This is the best. Thirty-odd aggregate years of parenting actualized in an instant. Diapers, dad-I-hate-yous and summer camp deposits all seem small. I can't remember the terror of last week or worry about the next.

Ronaldo and Me

Ronaldo and Me, originally uploaded by defmonk2007.

I've never done this before, because I'm rarely a sports fan in the sense that relates to the glorification of an individual. But, I'm so appreciative of Ronaldo's (yes, I think he no longer requires a first name to distinguish him from the Brazilian international) season in the Premiership. As much as I despise Man U, his headed goal in the Champions League final was a beautiful sports spectacle - control, power, grace, timing, intelligence. I can't wait to see him in a Los Blancos kit.

History is Funny That Way...

From the poster, Democrat, on MSNBC:

You have two choices for president:

The first one has one of the longest lines of political experience in history. He is exceedingly popular in congress. He was a soldier who volunteered to defend the United States in the Navy.

The second one has no real political experience outside of Illinois. He is tall and lanky with big ears. He even lost a few of his first attempts at gaining political office. He is an excellent speechwriter and orator. He is a good attorney and has a successful law practice.

So which one would you choose?

This is a trick question because both were already Presidents of the United States. The first one is the 15th President of the United States, James Buchannan. He is the President who mired us in the Civil War by declaring the action illegal but doing nothing when the south decided to seceed from the Union. He is largely considered by historians as being the worst President in American history.

He was followed by the other man who became the 16th President of the United States: Abraham Lincoln. Abraham Lincoln is credited with the end of slavery, the end of the Civil War, and unification of the nation. He became president at a dark time when our country was deeply divided over very polarizing issues. He had no experience in Washington prior to his Presidency. He is widely considered by historians as one of the best Presidents in American History.

Which one would you prefer as your President now? We have an almost identical choice before us today between Senator Obama and Senator McCain.

The single meanest thing you can do...

The single meanest thing you can do..., originally uploaded by defmonk2007.

It's over for the poor kid. What kind of indignities is he made to suffer by virtue of his small size and sunny disposition? I don't know how he will ever live this down...will his Mom whip this out to discourage his dates?

Pole Jumping and More Earthly Pleasures...

Yahoo! Entertainment Offsite
Originally uploaded by defmonk2007

Like the love child of a Malibu wedding and a BellSouth field staff training camp, the Yahoo! Entertainment offsite embodied the best of both (I presume, since I've experienced neither) rubber chicken and pole climbing antics. I'm sooooo down with this -- my college years testify as to the high value of transcending momentary terror for a whole afternoon of free beer and picnic sports. I hobbled away smiling from this awesomely great day, having learned that messing with the Forza Azzurri in futbol and bocce is vastly more dangerous than a little pole work.

El Son te llamó...

I really did swear I was going to make a series of substantive posts before I resorted to the indulgent satisfaction of idolizing my own little family, but the lure of new gadgets and willing subjects were way to strong. So, here is the latest installment of the growing hundreds of indulgent images, with credit to my new nifty little flash camcorder and YouTube.

Johnny Cash Doggy Dog

I can't imagine my reaction if, in the early days of West Coast stylee, someone had told me:

"You will work for a large company that makes products that you can't hold in your hand. This company will tape performances of LA gangsta rappers in furtherance of the sale of luxury automobiles designed for soccer moms. Snoop Dog will offer props to the legendary country artist Johnny Cash and then bust his own twangy country rhyme replete with slide guitar. A black man named Obama will run against the wife of a philandering ex-President for the highest office in the land"

I am living in the future -- and it is sicker than I ever could have imagined. Sheitz, my iPhone rocks the Star Trek communicator hands down. As if you needed proof, here's our Live Sets taping of Snoop's down-home chicken and waffles country jam: