Bernie's left the building & chest perimeters.

Kerik resigned today from Rudy's consulting firm. According to an AP wire story "he said he would seek other unspecified business opportunities." Hey, the guy lives in Jersey and there are plenty of trash haulers around. Maybe his brother's still got the trash company gig and can put in a word for him.

Still haven't seen any evidence of Chuck and Hill dining on crow for endorsing this buffoon.

Meanwhile, the folks over at TSA (or as one British security agent put it "Thousands Standing Around") have changed their rules about frisking females. "The agency said more than 45,000 security screeners will be directed this week to only pat down the 'chest perimeter' of females," according to the Washington Post. They can only pat inside the perimeter if the female in question has set off a metal detector.

I wonder what it will take to cool their facination with my fly? Just about every time I've gone through security they've felt compelled to check out, in detail, the zipper on my pants. Given that I'm a bearded male who's inclined to travel with a backpack full of cameras, I sort of expect that I'll attract attention. We all know terrorists have beards and do photograph things but what's with the pants zipper protocol? I've not heard of a zipper bomber but who knows. Maybe I'll show up with a velcro closure and see if they act disappointed.

What am I missing here?

Yet another story is published about a soldier who's being sent back to Iraq even though he's completed a tour of duty there. This guy happens to be a 20 year old sergeant. The fact that he's 20 and a sergeant means either the Army thinks he's talented or they're desperate or the reporter got something wrong. Add this to the myriad of news reports about complaints of reservists being sent over, tours of duty extended, and the complaints roll on.

My father was a Master Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps who lost a leg to friendly fire in the South Pacific. He loved to joke that he'd be one of the few people to be buried in two places, thousands of miles apart. He also told me not to go into the military during Vietnam. He'd fought in the jungle, he knew we were in error. His advice: "they'll screw you like the screwed me."

I knew what he meant. I'd gone with him to the "limb shop" in Buffalo to get his artificial leg reconditioned. It was made of willow and steel, not the most forgiving piece of equipment but an example of real craftsmanship (now done with high tech materials by equally skilled and caring people). The Veteran's Administration only allowed him so many trips and rationed the number of "stump socks" he got – a covering designed to cushion your skin from the wooden leg. If moths wrecked one of the wool stump socks, it could provoke real problems, since money was tight and the socks were expensive. So too if they shrank in the wash.

Just when I was about to enter college, the VA decided to lower my dad's disability rating, which meant they wouldn't pay for my or my two brother's tuitions. That event was followed by the first of my dad's two trips to a VA hospital.

I remember finding him on the road. The factory he worked at called, saying he'd walked off the job. I found a ride to the plant, got the family car and went after him. He was walking to another town, trying to find the personnel manager who'd left the factory, a guy my father related to. He was hobbling when I got him into the car. When we got to our house, he went down to the basement and cried. I never saw my father cry before, not at funerals, never. We took him to the Veteran's Hospital in Buffalo where he was admitted with a "nervious collapse." They did electroconvulsive treatments and sent him home, trembling.

Eventually my father recovered. I won scholarships that made college affordable for me, so I could pay my way, as did my brothers. I refused to go into the military, with my father's blessing. Vietnam ended and life went on.

Fast forward to today. Kids who've grown up playing video war games are now at real war with house to house combat. The draft is long gone and one wonders what they though they were volunteering for when they signed up: the chance to play with real weapons for a couple of years then a guaranteed good career when they left? Being in the military prepares you for being in the military, despite all the fanciful business writings comparing ancient combat strategies to contemporary capitalism. Battle trained and ready to sell plastic wrap.

So along comes Rummy with his "you go to war with the army you have" retort and introduces some reality into the whole thing. Folks get upset. What did you think you were signing up for? Since the military is strongly Republican and voted for this, should they gripe? This is one of your leaders speaking, one of the authors of the fix you're in. Sorry to be crass folks but if you talk the talk, you gotta walk the walk. When you signed on to the Bush agenda, you get the Bush agenda. Reality bites.

I am pained whenever I read that anyone is killed or maimed in Iraq. My mother, age 90, cries when she hears the deaths announced. I opposed this war before it started and I oppose it now. It's a lesson I learned from my father. Maybe it's time we stopped screwing our troops. Rumsfeld and Company should leave and we should provide them with the best protection: an end to the war.

Dysmorpic Delights

It's finally happened -- a beauty contest for women, mostly, who've been plasticized through surgery (see this piece from the BBC) .

The dysmorphia industry (a.k.a cosmetics) has been alive and well for quite some time, contributing to the hazardous waste stream while they made people feel uncomfortable with themselves.

Now we're breaking on through to the other side. Along with the dysmorphics like Ahnold who sculpt themselves through body building we've added another group -- those who've gone the surgical route.

What happens when the face in the mirror is no longer yours? Self-acceptance may not be as sexy as self-esteem but it's cheaper and easier than reconstruction.

Sex, right wingers, and....

Across the pond, the Home Secretary, David Blunkett quits when it's revealed that his office helped speed up a visa for the woman hired as a nanny by his then, now ex, lover. Note that ex-lover, one Kimberly Quinn, is an editor at the Spectator magazine (right wing in both its incarnations, here and in GB) and was married all of three months when she took up with Blunkett.

At least they were trying to get the nanny a visa and may have even paid taxes. Contrast that with the Mayhem Magnet who ostensibly carried on affairs with two women while he wed a third. His nanny was reportedly an illegal and taxes were apparently never paid.

Now lets here about them fundamental, conservative, bedrock, values.

To Protect and Defend.

Commandate El Busho has long dreamed of actually implementing Raygun's defensive shield to protect us from evildoers in Asia. Well, they're actually deploying the antimissle system despite the fact that the thing really hasn't been tested and is not likely to work.

I found this report of a test firing to be heavy on the irony: the missle"'…experienced an anomaly shortly before it was to be launched' from the Ronald Reagan Test Site at Kwajalein Atoll in the central Pacific Ocean…"

More News & Views

Talking Points Memo has a great Kerikature of The Man Who Would Guard Us All.

AP wire story: "Sen. John McCain, the straight-talking Republican who often challenges the GOP establishment, has taken on a headline-grabbing issue -- steroids in baseball -- and generated talk of a presidential bid in 2008."

Oh, please! I'm one of those people who doesn't understand why playing baseball is worth $87,000 a game in salary (if you're Sammy Sosa). But I guess there's nothing really important going on in the world so let's make voluntary doping among millionaire entertainers who otherwise have no marketable skills an issue.

McCain will be 72 in 2008. Raygun was 73 when he got elected, so it's possible that the strait talkin' Arizona guy will go for it.

Morning News

The NY Times has a bunch of interesting stuff this morning:

More dirt on the Mayhem Magnet -- seems he was helping a NJ trash company with (alledged) Mafia ties get a contract with NYC. OK, the idea that a NJ trash company would be affliated with the mob is a bit of a strech but it is the LIBERAL NEWS MEDIA that's reporting this -- and the Daily News. Rambito got $7K and his brother got a job but the whole thing could be explained and Hiz "Honor" (Rudy, that is) didn't see stuff like this as insurmountable.

Digression: a few years ago my S.O. and I were in Central Park when we came upon a wedding party, lined up and posing for a photograph. A cop walked up to the photographer and asked, loudly, "where's your permit?" The photographer was stunned -- a permit to photograph in Central Park? The cop kept insisting until the groom stepped up to the officer and suggested they go talk. As they moved away from the group, you could see the groom's hand go to his pocket, then the inevitable handshake. The cop left and the photograph was made.

It's just a question of scale, that's all.

Also in the Times: Tommy Friedman can't understand why the EU and the Arab League won't step up and help with Iraq, that little fracas Tommy helped to promote but now wrings his hands over. Yo, Tom, why should Olde Europe and the Arabs help the Great Crusader? Ever hear of trust? Ever hear of the Palestinians? You, Brooks and Safire must have a misconstruing the point contest going. Work harder, Brooks (who thinks he's a sociologist) is ahead but not by much. Safire's quitting, so you'll get a break there.

Finally, there's a picture of Iraqi police arresting some guys for trying to smuggle sheep into Saudi Arabia. Guess the Mayhem Magent's early departure from Iraq as a police trainer didn't affect their ability to collar those shephards, did it. The photo's next to a story about 8 American troops dying. No word if the sheep were affliated with Abu Musab al-Zarqawi or had any WMD (wool of mass destruction).

Be afraid.

"FEAR MORE YEARS"

--Poster on Washington D.C. wall, near Dupont Circle

Still more nannygate.

Yes, the man who would be homeland security chief, protecting us all, just happens to have overlooked the fact that his housekeeper/nanny didn't have a green card. Gosh, golly -- he wishes he'd noticed sooner, then maybe he wouldn't have told the Bushies that he didn't have a problem hiring illegals.

Guess the "Mayhem Magnet" still has the touch.

Even more disgusting is Shumer and Clinton fawning over this joker. In tune with New York? Chuck, baby, this is the guy who presided over a department with dysfunctional communications with other emergency services in the city. They were out of tune, couldn't talk readily to each other and had turf battles going when 9/11 happened. You and Hil should have been vying for who could drop kick this sucker from Manhattan back to his McMansion in Fairlawn, NJ.

Nannygated.

Kerik's rise to Homeland Security czar gets torpedoed by his employing an illegal immigrant and, uh, probably not paying social security taxes. So much for being a detail-attentive, law and order type. It's the Leona rule -- only the little people pay taxes.

The name and nationality of the housekeeper/nanny who, according to the NYT, returned to her home country two weeks ago (coincidence) was not released. Pity. The woman should be accorded honors from rescuing us from the Mayhem Magnet. As George Carlin said: "God bless the law of unintended consequences."

Of course, in the Bush Administration you have to demonstrate your incompetence to keep your job or get promoted (Colin Powell being the exception), so I'm sure there are plenty of potential replacements. Rambo types only need apply. We need some action -- the last guy was too Martha Stewart, with those color schemes and that plastic sheet/duct tape redo.

Scott, Michael, Jason & Barry.

Can somebody tell me why so much ink and/or electrons are being spent on these guys? In the grand scheme of things, the stuff they're accused of happens a lot and typically gets short, if any, notice in the press. Nothing new here, no precedents set. It's just easier for the members of the Monica machine to get their heads around.

Sigh.

Lesbian convicted! Film at 11:00!

Looks like the Methodist Church is standing on whatever principles it has and as a result "defrocked" a minister who admitted to being in a committed relationship with (gasp) another woman. Never mind that she is a fine minister and that the church who employs her is willing to have her continue.

I'm a bit fuzzy on this, not having studied theology and all for quite some time, but didn't John Wesley (the founder of Methodism) go against what was seen as biblical teaching in saying that women could preach and minister? I guess you can only take heresy so far.

I was encouraged to note that the trial ended with a mere defrocking. At least some religions have moved away from the traditional burning at the stake, stoning or some similar practice. Since we're falling on our faces, its probably good that were at least falling forward.

Rambo and Rummy

Rummy, who's plans for Iraq have been less than stellar, gets asked to stay on. So we'll have more of the same for the near future at least.

Add to that hiring "Rambo" (aka Bernie Kerik) as the new head of Homeland (seig heil) Security and you have the perfect combination. Kerik was the tough talkin' sheriff of NYC during the Rudi years. The guy who supposedly brought street crime way down (which reflected a national trend, as crime tends to go down during periods of high employment) but who overlooked little things, like the ability of pubic safety departments in NYC to communicate with each other. Sort of a drawback when 9/11 happened.

He didn't go to HahVahd like the departing Tom Ridgid, so he'll probably change the color code. He did stand accused of misusing NYPD resources to find out about his mother, who abandoned him, and quickly added a chapter to his book on 9/11, which probably boosted sales.

Tough guy, shaved head, willing to misuse public resources, able to capitalize to his benefit on unfortunate events. Fits with Commandante El Busho just fine, even though he doesn't seem to know anything about oil.

Buying a Rolex?

When I switched to my current broadband service, I didn't trust their spam filter. So I'd do a quick check of what was being trapped and grumble about what wasn't. Even sent them a couple of messages about how much spam was getting missed by the filter.

Eventually, I gained confidence that they weren't throwing out correspondence from a long lost friend along with the porn and other crap people of remarkable little intelligence but high greed were sending me. But I still check the headers, habitually, regularly. Over the last few weeks, the spam change has been remarkable.

I need to buy a Rolex.

More than porn, more than cheep dr*gs from KanNaDa, more than sexual potency (or cheep dr*gs from small Latin American countries that can assist my sixu*l potancy among other things). A Rolex is the thing to have. Should I appear with a Rolex on my wrist, I'd need none of the former. Rolex is the ultimate in bling bling and superior chick magnet.

Trying to stay in touch with pop culture, though I am approaching my dotage, I know that bling bling is not the son of Barney and Betty Rubble, from the Flintstones. He was, of course, named Bam Bam but what if the Rubble's had a kid who was, y'know, a bit different (wink, wink), then maybe that was Bling Bling. But I digress. No need to cause rumors about loveable cartoon characters when you can taunt real people who may experience actual distress over their choice of timepieces.

I do know that bling bling is plural, cause if you just have one or a little, it's a bling. So Rolex is so big, so much, that just one gets you the plural -- bling bling. As we know from hip hop culture and good old 'merican advertising (which are more or less the same thing) more is better. Rolex is so much better, it gets you an automatic extra bling along with waterproofing and a stainless steel case.

So why must I have a Rolex? My current watch, purchased in at a WalMart because my other watch broke, and I needed one in a hurry, has been ticking along for over seven years now, keeping accurate time. Which is good, 'cause I was so much in a hurry that I stumbled over the falling prices, which had littered the floor thanks to that stupid smilie face thing.

I have now spent more than the purchase price of the watch on a replacement battery and a new band (the old one broke) but I went to Target for those items. My El Cheapo has a night light, is waterproof though not to 100 meters but sufficent to allow me to do dishes or go fishing without worries. It was manufactured in a third world country considerably larger than Switzerland not known for precision craftsmanship or reasonable living standards. It came with one of those smooth (genuine former cow) leather bands that doesn't catch the hair on my arm in the metal links.

Given that it is a watch, I have to report that it keeps accurate time. I've reset it when we change from Eastern Standard and back, with a rare occasional tweak in between.

My cheapie watch weighs next to nothing, so I guess I can't claim any aerobic exercise benefits from swinging a chunk of metal around at the end of my arm. Then again, if it gets run over by a Hummer, it's road pizza. A Rolex would take out the Hummer, big time, since it has a protective last for generations shield built in. My great-grandchild would not have to replace the band but would complain about having arm hair ripped off. Perhaps by then genetic engeering, responding to the cries from generations of Rolex owners, would have enabled unrippable arm hair through stem cell research.

Still, no woman has ever walked up to me and said: "Is that a WalMart watch on your wrist? Honey, despite your advanced age, you must not need new imported softabs chewable Vicialsgra to get it on. "

Perhaps I should consider buying a Rolex.