Calling all swine.
So, jerks. Sunday, sometime after noon, for a meeting, non NFL, but nonetheless. A sunday is a sunday. My place, bring booze, bring saturated fats. Bring, yourself. I'm tired, of staring at Iron and Blood. So this is now the top post.

Draper

Iron And Blood
I was reading an Andrew Sullivan piece in TNR on the prospect of a conservative revolt against George Bush, when I saw this:

I'm not sure that president Bush has ever been a believer in real personal freedom. On most social and cultural issues--from drug legalization to marriage rights--Bush has always been an authoritarian-style conservative. He has never consistently or boldly spoken of the need to restrain government as a good in itself. He has governed exactly as one would have expected, if you consider him a Texas adherent of the religious right who happened to grow up in a family committed to public service. Whatever the context, Bush has had choices. And almost every choice he has made has been in the direction of an authoritarian, big-spending conservatism, not a frugal, libertarian one.

And then it hit me: George Bush is a lot like Otto von Bismarck.

Bismarck inherited a Prussian estate; Bush inherited an oil fortune. Both were mediocre students who spent their youth aimlessly. Politically, both Bush and Bismarck are traditionalist social conservatives without clear principles about economic matters, where they are guided by pragmatism rather than principle.

Like Bismarck, Bush sees domestic politics as a means to an end - the end being political survival and the continuation of his foreign policy. Bismarck enacted the world's first social security system in order to buy the political support of the rapidly expanding class of industrial workers. Bush recently passed a prescription drug entitlement in the hope of buying the support of the nation's fastest-growing demographic cohort: the elderly. Bush throws bones (judicial appointments, partial-birth abortion ban) to his conservative base, just as Bismarck attacked Socialists and Catholics to keep his base of reactionary Prussian Junkers satisfied.

Even the foreign policies of the two men are similar. Bismarck was haunted by the memories of the crushing defeat of Prussia at the hands of Napoleon. He used aggressive tactics - such as a "preemptive" war with France - to achieve the conservative goal of security. Bismarck disdained global ambitions; he once declared, "Colonies for Germany are like fur coats for Polish nobles". Similarly, Bush derided nation-building during his presidential run, but has ended up invading and then reconstructing Afghanistan and Iraq in the name of "homeland security".

But there is one glaring difference between Otto von Bismarck and George Bush: Bush's failure to subordinate domestic political gains to the greater goals of his foreign policy. Bush wants to practice realpolitik abroad while submitting fantasyland budgets at home. Sullivan:

He could have made an argument for general sacrifice, keeping the deficit manageable, while fighting an important war. He chose not to. I emphasize the word "chose." Rather than make the case for war responsibly and coherently, he argued that we could afford everything: guns, butter, margarine, whipped cream, whatever.

In 1862, when the Reichstag balked at providing funding for the army, Bismarck berated them with these famous words:

The great questions of the day will not be decided by speeches and the resolutions of majorities... but by iron and blood.

If George Bush would demonstrate an iron will in demanding the funding for a larger and stronger military, a lot less blood would have to be shed by American soldiers.

Marc

Those that can, do...
After playing around on the Internet for a while it occurred to me that I don't have a post on the front page of the blog. Well, I simply can't have that.

Unlike most of the stuff I write on this blog, today's post comes from Maryland, and more specifically, deals with education.

Maryland's education officials are offering class time and in some cases academic and community service credit to students who attend a downtown Annapolis rally that will encourage legislators to accept the Thornton Commission's reccommendations on school funding. The article raises a number of issues, including whether its proper to allow students participating in advocacy (and in this case political) activities to receive community service credit toward graduation. Further, is it appropriate for schools to use government money in order to lobby the government? And I was prepared to talk about both of those issues (and a couple of others) except that I then read another article dealing with teachers.

Today's Sun also reports that Baltimore City School chief Bonnie Copeland has announced the preparation of plans to layoff about 1200 city teachers if the teachers do not agree to either a temporary pay cut or furlough. The Baltimore Teacher's Union is expected to vote on the issue tommorrow morning. It's likely that any cost-cutting efforts that include pay cuts or furloughs will be rejected, and layoffs will begin.

These two articles kinda got me thinking: What in the hell is wrong with teachers?

I'm prepared to look beyond the rather smarmy tactic of literally busining in hordes of uninterested students to a rally so that the teacher's union can demand more money from the government. What's more troubling to me is the fact that none of these "concerned" teachers used this opportunity as a chance to (gasp) teach. Couldn't some enterprising young civics teacher assign his or her class to research the issues involved in the education funding debate? They could hold mock committee meetings and travel to Annapolis to observe the actual proceedings or have an audience with their representative. Heck, they could even write letters to their representatives that urge support (or comdenation, in a perfect world) for the Thornton measures. But at least they'd be learning, instead of being treated like interchangeable cogs in the teacher's union's unwavering efforts to pry loose every last dime that the government has and call it "helping kids." (Not only are they not learning, but they're being used for poltical purposes and are receiving kickbacks as a result. Anyone wondering why kids grow increasingly cynical about politics and government?)

The second article is even more clear than the first. Teachers are willing to take themselves out of the classroom rather than accept a pay cut. While the pay cut (which would be temporary, by the way) would be across the board, meaning that everyone (including administrators, facilitators and janitors) would be affected, the job losses will affect teachers more so than other people connected to the schools. The teachers, either because of stubborness, or stupidity or corruption (or more likely a combination of all three) are willing to let their students take the fall, rather than themselves. What's their answer? Increase the amount of time given to paying off the $58 million cumulative budget deficit from the current projection of 18 months to several years. Forgive me for sounding cynical, but I'm guessing I'm not the only person who thinks the Union's timetable for debt reduction would be so long that it would coincide with a number of vital teacher pay raises.

Look, I know that a great many people who are teachers are good at their job. They are dedicated and want what's best for their students. But as a group, teachers behave just like any other special interest group in this country. Just like the farmers and the elderly, they line up at the great government trough elbowing each other in order to get the best chance at the most money.

(Coincidentally, the Democrats being in bed with all three of these groups is a large part of their problem)

Is more money going to help our schools? Probably not. But what could help is teachers putting aside their own personal poltical agendas and re-dedicating themselves to the ideals that got them into teaching in the first place: because they wanted to help children. (Or couldn't find anything else they were good at in college. Either way.)

Tony

But Don't Take My Word For It
James Lileks on John Kerry:

I'm waiting for a Kerry speech in which he seems angrier about 9/11 than he does about tax cuts.

I'm waiting for an ad that simply puts the matter plainly: who do you think Al Qaeda wants to win the election? Who do you think will make Syria relax? Who do you think Hezbollah worries about more? Who would Iran want to deal with when it comes to its nuclear program - Cowboy Bush or "Send in the bribed French inspectors" Kerry? Which candidate would our enemies prefer?

I guess that's why I'll have to choke down my vomit over all the ridiculous spending and vote for Bush anyway.

Marc

Do You Like Nachos?
Wise words from former president Gerald Ford:

A government big enough to give you everything you want is a government big enough to take from you everything you have.

Saw this quote on Instapundit, where it was attributed to the Gipper.

Marc

Ahh, Nuts
Exit polls from National Review:

AZ Kerry 46, Clark 24, Dean 13
MO Kerry 52, Edwards 23, Dean 10
SC Edwards 44, Kerry 30, Sharpton 10
OK Edwards 31, Kerry 29, Clark 28
DE Kerry 47, Dean 14, Lieberman 11, Edwards 11

Well, if those turn out to be right, it looks like Dean is finished, and Edwards is the alternative to Kerry. Dean's plan to wait out these primaries and emerge as the alternative to Kerry could only have worked if Kerry swept the board and knocked everyone else out.

Now it's Edwards who will benefit from the inevitable Muskie Kerry backlash. Edwards is the only guy who really scares me running against Bush.

Marc

Plates post...have I posted this one yet?
The beginning, as it were (Wednesday)

The Sun. A line drawn between shadow and light on my face. I'm awake. What time is it? This is no early morning sun. This is that sharp and angry late morning sun. Move, roll over, go back to dreaming. The strength to move, barely. Moving away from the encroaching daylight, deeper into the shadows. Closer to being trapped. The day will have me, soon enough, not yet, though. Not yet. Still to sleep, to rest, to dream.
Awake, again. The sun methodically chasing me farther and farther to the wall beside my bed. I know it's time to rise when the day's light is just about to crest, when I can move no farther.
Trapped between my wall and the light cascading in through the cracked Venetian blinds. Only then does the escape become possible. At daylight's peak can I finally get out of bed. Only then, when I know the day is receding back into darkness can I muster the strength to rise. Only then.
I think today is Wednesday. I think. Not a special day except for the fact that tonight, in just a few hours I'll be less alone. I'll be with friends, soon to embark on that long last chapter of this thing. But, the day, it begins like any other. It really began, or rather, it's been going on like this for months now. One day bleeding into the next.
How many months has this been going on? How long has this day lasted? The ebb and flow of a static life. How long?
It's cold in my apartment. But still it seems stuffy, so I open the window above my bed. The cold air rushes in, greets me. I like to sit and watch my little town move and breath without me. I'll sit there, on many mornings, or on many days, when finally I have risen, and sit cross legged, smoking a cigarette, my face weary and rough. Sitting and watching the town rock gently to and fro. I'll be sitting there, like now, and catch a glimpse of who I have become in the mirror opposite my bed. I look, and am startled, I know not that person any more.
I'll sit there, and let the cigarette dangle from my mouth like James Dean, and crack my hands, my neck, my back, and my knees. What a miserable routine I've made for myself. But, I am in the depths of it. I am stuck, trapped, here. Seems like forever. I finally look at my watch. And remember that it stopped working a couple of weeks ago. It doesn't matter. I guess it's somewhere after two. The first school busses are starting to crawl up and down Main St. Kids, so full of life are sitting in plastic desks, squirming, just waiting, itching to get out of school to make the most of the little sunlight that they get to play in. It is March. But, the trees, still bare, the air, still frigid. And the light wasted on people like me. To sleep through most of it, and to curse it when finally forced to face it.
I smoke my cigarette down to the butt. I don't want to waste it. I keep sucking at the thing until I can taste that horrible burnt plastic taste of the filter. It's about all I have the money for these days. A pack a day and a couple a beers at night. What little I eat is charity from my mom or a meal here and there bummed from Pat or Francis. I am hungry, but my addictions are more important. Hell, I'm something like two months overdue on rent. I've been living off of Francis' half of the rent and utilities. Bargaining and begging my way through the last few months. Some how, I still have a home, and friends, and cable and a phone. Some how.
My head hurts. Am I hungover. No. Maybe a tumor. Man, that'd be good. No. Ignore those thoughts. I pad through the empty apartment, shadowed by my lonely little dog. Stand there in the kitchen. What am I looking for. None of this food is mine. Francis wouldn't mind if I took some. But, I can't. Don't want to without asking. Take the only thing in the fridge that belongs to me, a half empty, flat bottle of diet coke. No glass, no ice, just drink it out of the bottle.
Log on to the computer. Looking for salvation in my email. Look for inspiration. Find none. Go to the inevitable last stop. Porn.
The television tells me it's now four. I should shower. Should put some kind of face on for my friends tonight. Francis will be home in about an hour. Be a little bit alive.
Half past four. Take the dog out. Walk past the bike shop. The guys are beginning to assemble for an early season training ride. I should join them. No, too out of shape. Tell them, yeah, I've been training all winter inside. Gonna be stronger this year than ever before. At least I look it. Have lost nearly twenty pounds since last season. Tell them that I'll be there on the next ride, but not today, have things to do.
Poke my head out of the window after I'm back inside. Making sure that the guys are gone from in front of the bike shop. Hurry to the 7-11 for a pack of smokes and another two liter of diet coke. See Francis pulling his little red car into the still snow covered parking lot behind the apartment. Waving and grinning, I am glad to not be alone, now. Glad to see a friend, a friend more like family than my real blood.
`How was the old salt mine today?' As I light another cigarette.
`Not bad, not bad. Gimme' a hand with this stuff huh?'
He's got his sleeping supplies. His ever present beige duffle bag. His fan. His pillows. And a box of booze. Yeah, he technically lives with me here in the apartment on Main St. but, in all reality he spends his time in three places. His Dad's house, his girlfriend's, and here. I think here, more than anything as a favor to me, or some kind of one last time gesture. Without him, I probably would've been evicted by now. He's been keeping me alive. In so many ways. Always has.
We climb the rickety ice covered stairs in behind the building. Both, with arms full. Entering the back door to the apartment, through the kitchen, the dog so excited that we've not abandoned her she pees on the floor. I just took her out. Oh well. Francis gives her some love, I just glare at her. Not having the heart to punish her. I know. He takes his stuff to the closet he calls his room. I clean up her mess and give her a treat. Glad, that she is there. Small things, to get through the day.
He calls Pat, talks about food. Asks me if I'm hungry. I say no. (A lie.) Says Pat'll be down in a little bit and that they'll be making ramen noodles and beans and rice and that there will be plenty extra in case I get hungry. I appreciate the offer but know that I will take none of their food and that they will finish it with or without me.
Pat arrives at about 6. He comes bearing gifts. Food and beer. The beer I will accept. The food I will not. While they prepare their beggar's feast I slip out of the apartment and back to the 7-11 for two dollars worth of snack cakes. This will be my food for the day. I feel guilty about it. I don't really have any money to spend. But, I know someone will pick up my drinks tonight.
I smell the incense before I reenter the apartment from outside in the hallway. I know what they're doing. Back into the living room, scattered with books, magazines, beer bottles and two pots of cheap carbohydrates. They pass back and forth the pretty glass. Inhaling deeply between mouthfuls of food. They offer me a hit. No. Thanks, I am fine. I want to. But, the last thing I need is to get down into that kind of state. I will never reemerge. Not, tonight, at least.
A little before 8 now. Moving from beer to liquor. Francis playing bartender. Thanks. I feel a little looser. A little lighter. A good thing. Yes. I mute the television and put on some music. A tap, tap at the door and Francis' girlfriend and some of his college friends greet us with hopeful smiles. I let them in and the night begins.

Draper

godamnit.
Anyway...Gandalf's burned down. Yeah, the greatest bar on earth. It burned down. Boo.

Draper

Groundhog Sees Shadow; World Sees Nipple
Groundhog Day:

There was good news for skiers today as the world's most famous furry forecaster saw his shadow on Groundhog Day, predicting six more weeks of winter.

Halftime Show:

It appeared that Timberlake ripped Jackson's outfit as he reached out to her, revealing her breast with what appeared to be a sun-shaped silver nipple ring.

Marc

It's a mad, mad, mad, mad blog post!
With the recent deviled eggs post and the subsequent keen eye of Tony noticing that we now have ads for eggs and cayenne pepper I thought I would try to give the automated ad program a hard time. Lets see where this post gets us.

Am now at this very moment watching on cable TV, yes, cable, ah, cable. Its a mad, mad, mad, mad world! With the likes of Spencer Tracy, Buddy Hacket, Ethel Merman, Mickey Rooney, Sid Caesar, Jonathan Winters, Don Knotts, and many more top shelf comics from the 50's and 60's. Funny, silly, stupid shit. For like three hours. Anyway.

In cycling news...the European season is winding up. The first important race of the season is being held on the last day of February. Het Volk. It is a Belgian semi-classic that has been the traditional start to the serious racing. Nothing like racing in Belgium in February. Fucking cold.

Further proof that France is a nation of cheaters and whiners. Usually, though I am not into France bashing. But, as far as cycling and cheating goes, the French stink just like their unwashed pits.

Phillipe Gaumont, a trouble but talented time trialist and best friend of Franck Vandebrouck (a Belgian, by the way) has just admitted to taking EPO and has said that the doping problem is no where near being over in pro-cycling. No shit.

But, the good news is that he says that it is no longer institutionalized, that is, the teams no longer systematically dope. But, friends have friends and the drugs are passed around the peleton that way. You can watch it happen, if you follow cycling long enough. First it was some lowly basques. Then the Italians. Then the French. It is a mess.

In Rocky Run news. I should be on the bar within two months. It is actually not a bad job. I mean that. I worked all day yesterday. Like a 13 hour day. But, made something like 170$ after tipping out the bar and the bussers. So, not bad.

School has started back up. Yes, my last semester of classes of Towson University. Ranked just recently by whoever it is that ranks schools, as one of the top ten schools for Master's degrees. Hooray, for my backup school.

So, suicidegirls.com is a great site for naked women.

One last word. Dean is an animal, Liberman a troll, Kerry a mummy, Sharpton a clown, Kucinich an elf, and Edwards...well he seems to be the only human being running for the dems. I think we're really fucked. But, I'll still vote. And be grumpy.

Oh well.

In summary, naked girls, suicidegirls, cycling, drugs, EPO, Towson University, Buddy Hackett, comcast cable television, Belgium, the Basques, and so on.

Draper

First In The Nation?
Terry McAuliffe is threatening to take away New Hampshire's traditional role as the first primary:

In a Wednesday interview, McAuliffe voiced personal support for keeping New Hampshire's primary and Iowa's caucus the nation's first tests of candidate strength. But he estimated that 90 percent of the Democratic National Committee's members wants to eliminate their leadoff positions. Iowa holds the nation's first caucus eight days before New Hampshire's primary.

McAuliffe said New Hampshire's record voter turnout was "first and foremost" helpful for the state. But he said that to change minds on the DNC, "The second part of it is even more critical. New Hampshire needs to make itself a blue state in November 2004." That means the state needs to give its four electoral votes to the Democratic nominee, not President George W. Bush.

Marc

The Galloping Steakbag

Deviled Eggs

Ingredients:
• 8 hard boiled eggs
• 1 tbsp. Dijon mustard
• 1/4 cup mayonnaise
• salt and pepper
• cayenne pepper and garlic powder
• paprika

Directions:
• Boil eggs for 15 minutes, then put them in cold water
• When cooled, slice eggs in half lengthwise
• Scoop out yolks and mix with mustard and mayo
• Season with salt, pepper, garlic, and cayenne pepper (just a little of the garlic and cayenne pepper)
• Spoon mixture into a Ziploc bag
• Cut a small hole in corner of bag, and squeeze mixture into the eggs
• Dust eggs with paprika

Marc

Hey Jerks
Newsflash...for scumbags proper (Marc/Tony) or those of you who are scumbags by proxy...I now have internet at home. Beware.

Show Me The Money
Is Dean broke, or is this the rope-a-dope?

Rivals including front-runner John F. Kerry are buying TV ads in South Carolina and other states holding primaries or caucuses Tuesday, but the former Vermont governor has chosen to forgo further advertising in this round, focusing instead on the Feb. 7 caucuses in Michigan and Washington state, campaign officials said. The decision marks a notable shift in fortunes for an innovative candidate who revolutionized fundraising via the Internet and led all Democrats in 2003 by collecting nearly $41 million.

The Deanyboppers on the blog are starting to sound worried:

People need some guidance here :} Need to know where we are going..whats going on with the ads..if money situation is ok-You guys NEED to address this in a thread...please :}

Could someone please explain to me how we can possibly be in financial trouble with a reported $42 million raised and a million on the bat this week?

I'm so nervous. please show us you can win. i'm a bit upset about pulling all ads in feb 7th states. wouldn't it be nice if you guys could make stunning ads and run them 2 days before the election? or right after super bowl sunday?

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THE MONEY?!? Just three weeks ago it looked like WE had the best operation going - and now we can't even afford to put up ads in the next seven states? I think HQ owes us all a frank explanation as to where our money has gone, and why it wasn't used more effectively to get us the nomination, let alone take on George W. Bush.

Now Dean has to pray that everybody else drops out after Feb. 3, or else this strategy is a bust. How much do you want to bet that Brokaw asks Dean about money during the debate tonight?

Marc

It's gonna be bigger than 10 Super Bowls
Lacking the usual amount of fanfare, Super Bowl week has finally arrived. And despite my excitment over both the game itself and the atmosphere surrounding it, I've gotta say that this is probably the least star-studded Super Sunday that I can remember. Neither the Patriots nor the Panthers provide us with anything approaching a star in the NFL. (Tom Brady is probably the closest we've got to true star-power for this game.)

The Washington Post's Michael Wilbon is spending the week in Houston covering the game. So far this week he's written columns about the Panthers GM, Patriots place kicker Adam Vinatieri, and Panthers return specialist, part-time running back and former XFL star Rod Smart (a.k.a. He Hate Me). Not exactly the Mt. Rushmore of professional football.

In spite of this, many observers (myself included) are expecting a good game between two teams who match-up well. Much to the NFL's chagrin, they're not going to be able to sell McNabb, or Manning or Dante Hall or, well, anybody. Now they've got to sell the game itself...and they gave themselves two weeks to do that.

The Super Bowl is not about football fans. Conference Championship Sunday is about real football fans. The Super Bowl is about drinking, and parties, and food and commercials. It is the game as happening. The snag in this year's plan is that, while the game presents interesting matchups that true football fans will revel in, the star-power to fuel the hype for two weeks simply isn't there. No other year has provided such a clear example that the NFL's occassional use of an extra week between Conference Championship Sunday and the Super Bowl is a bad policy. In this year's case, neither team had the ability or desire to fuel the hype machine for an extra week. On the reverse side, when teams do have bonafide superstars, the game is often over-hyped, leading to dissappointment no matter the outcome. I understand the league's desire to extend its season, and its ability to make money, by keeping the extra week. But the NFL must realize that the fans are happier and the games are often better (or at least seem better) when we've only got one week to wait.

Tony