I had resolved to dedicate my blog rambling to a suggestion list for the incoming Obama administration over these few remaining weeks of the Bush II era. (Suggestion #9 – drop the
homophobe preacher.) But sometimes events overtake us… events in the shape of a size ten shoe. Actually, two size ten shoes, tossed quite skillfully at the commander in chief himself, who dodged them – also quite skillfully – much as he’s been able (up to this point, at least) to dodge responsibility for the mass death and destruction he has brought down upon Iraq. This was for the widows and orphans and the thousands killed, said Muntazer al-Zaidi as he hummed the second limo at our fearless (or clueless) leader. My first thought was, huh… an anger so pervasive that it was able to penetrate even the octuple security of the Green Zone’s inner sanctum and make the president duck. And, as I’m sure someone has observed, it was no lame duck…. quite adept. Makes me wonder if people chuck things at him more than we know. (Barney, perhaps?)
Be that as it may, al-Zaidi’s act of defiance resonated throughout the poorer quarters where the despised of both Bush and Saddam claw their way through life, and far beyond. Is this as close as Bush will ever come to a genuine “accountability moment”, as he puts it? Perhaps. Prospects for any kind of constitutional come-uppance appear to be nil at this point, and it seems unlikely that he’ll see his day in court (this side of the Hague, anyway). There may be a broad recognition of this fact, perhaps even global in scope, bringing expectations of justice so low that even this purely symbolic effort takes on tremendous significance. Who hasn’t felt frustrated that Bush may be sailing obliviously off into a comfortable sunset, convinced of his own righteousness? In a world of misery made worse by his tenure, who hasn’t wanted to chuck that shoe… or at least hoped to see it chucked by someone else?
Particularly in Iraq, the feeling is more than understandable. To this day there is no real acknowledgement of the degree to which Iraqis have suffered as a result of this
invasion, just as there remains to be any acknowledgement of how much they had suffered under the preceding dozen years of truly murderous economic sanctions and the destruction of the 1991 Gulf War. Their resentment of American intervention in their nation has been evident from day one. Even when our military orchestrated the pull-down of Saddam’s statue in the square packed with Chalabi’s people, cordoned off from the general public, they couldn’t keep signs of resistance out of the carefully composed television images. I can remember the flustered T.V. commentator reading on-air the sign that read “Go Home You U.S. Wankers”, fully expecting it to be some kind of celebratory message. In the midst of a whirlwind of triumphalist press about our successful invasion and drive to Baghdad, there was that irrepressible anomaly that presaged the great unraveling that was to follow.
Have we arrived at another such moment? Will Bush actually be held to account, along with other members of his administration? Has he unfurled the “mission accomplished” banner a bit prematurely once again? We can only wait and see if there is yet one more shoe to drop.
luv u,
jp

Trouble with being on the road is you never know what town you’re waking up in. Or what planet. That’s bad enough when you have a set itinerary, but with Big Green… mother of pearl! Even when you’ve got your wits about you, it’s hard to figure out where the hell you’re playing. Like this little planetoid Urich our pilot drove us into. It’s not on any astronomical charts. It’s as yet undiscovered and unacknowledged by the scientific community. So, when we walk out on stage to do a few numbers, what the hell do we shout out to the crowd of hideously misshapen extraterrestrial concert-goers? “Helllooooooooo……. whatever!” Got any suggestions? Let us know, damn it. It’s disorienting, and I’m about as disorientated as anyone needs to be. (Except maybe the man-sized tuber… only he’s got a terrarium.)
just culture shock, I guess. There are more practical concerns. For instance, transportation is a serious issue. About the only way you can get anywhere on this planet is either by cramming into a tiny vehicle with about 20 Neutonians in full traditional garb, or getting on a tiny one-wheeled conveyance and riding to your destination across a stretched cable. (They throw a spotlight on you while you’re doing it. It’s very unnerving.) And since when are there elephants on other planets? I’ve always thought of them as the quintessential Earth animal, but I guess I’m wrong. (Here they do tricks. Curious thing.)
down on his polished brass head. We finally convinced him to join us on stage, though he would only agree if we gave him a barrel to stand on and a small theatrical umbrella to hold absurdly over his head. (Only tubey seemed to enjoy the spotlight.) Later that evening, we were invited to the local magistrate’s home for what was ostensibly a “meet and greet” event, during which an appalling assortment of Neutonians came up to us in their absurdly oversized footwear and performed their traditional greeting ritual, which involves shoving a sacred custard pie in each of our faces, then baptizing us with purified holy water sprayed out of a decorative lapel flower. This gets a little old… especially when the magistrate invites his entire extended family.
will briefly join the chorus of people sounding off on Illinois governor Blagojevich and his jaw-dropping, bald-faced, kleptocratic frenzy to fill Obama’s senate seat with the ass of the highest bidder. I think of myself as a fairly jaded individual, generally speaking, having trawled through the sludge of American politics most of my life on one level or another (never a very elevated one)… and yet somehow that transcript of Blagojevich saying “this thing is [fucking] golden” struck me as, well, appalling and depressing, even as it made me laugh. Just the sheer mind-numbing greed of it made me think, as Keith Olbermann said the other day, of Zero Mostel in the original movie “The Producers” … “Oh! I want that money!!” Holy shit.
few years ago are now wearing cardboard belts and eating out of local food pantries. Unfortunately, the only tall politician with good hair (i.e. not Kucinich) who talked about this has felled himself with a tawdry sex scandal, in effect bringing the entire issue down with him. (Very costly affair, wouldn’t you say?) Obama needs to take up this gauntlet. Poor people may not vote in large enough numbers to constitute a reliable electoral block, but that doesn’t mean they should be ignored. “The poor” is not a static population… people of relative means fall into poverty all the time. We need to press for policies that will bring about full employment, repair the social safety net, and stop punishing people for not having money.