Wednesday, June 22, 2016

No Bill, No Break! No Bill, No Break!

The Democrats who conducted the Senate filibuster for sane gun legislation, and those sitting on the House floor as I write this, have my unreserved admiration.

The longest journey, as the saying goes, begins with a single step.  Forcing a vote on some aspect of gun control — any  aspect of gun control — would be a step forward in our insane times.

But perhaps the more important point they are making is this: elected Democrats, at least some of them, do in fact have spines.  I suspect that the success of the Bernie Sanders campaign, unabashedly championing liberal points of view, may have inspired them.

Whatever may have inspired them, I applaud them, and hope this new assertiveness continues and expands.  Perhaps even before the November elections, we will have a true opposition party in Congress.

Misled as they have been by their Dr.  Kidglove in the White House, the Democrats in Congress have compromised when they needed to attack, folded when the enemy shouted “Boo!” and otherwise allowed bullying, ignorant, political thugs to run roughshod over them every time there was a showdown over chamber rules, national fiscal policy, health care, guns, foreign policy — all the big issues.

You don’t play nice with thieves.  You can’t negotiate with troglodytes.  Truth is not malleable and justice is not a two-way street.  The American people desperately need an institution that will fight — dirty, if necessary — for their interests and against those of the military-industrial, corporate, neocon, greedy, nasty oligarchs who have been running everything in the United States for far too long.

Perhaps the next Democratic filibuster will be joined by all the Democrats in the Senate.  Perhaps, if it continues, all of the House Democrats will have the courage to sit in the well of the chamber and shout, “No bill, no break!”

If that happened, I’d bet that their ranks would increase when the returns are counted in November. And if that happened, I would expect even bolder minority action than filibusters and sit-ins.  Perhaps their party would even regain control of the Senate, and exercise that control, and act, for a change, like a majority party. Perhaps they would even elect a majority leader with the courage to tell the NRA to slink off into a dark corner of its rat’s nest and stroke the barrels of their AR15s.

Maybe that’s asking too much of the Democrats.  They are, after all, mere politicians.  And this is still, after all, Amerika.

We shall see. 

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Sick Sick Sick Sick Sick

Once again “thoughts and prayers” are being offered in response to an American massacre by gunfire.

After Columbine in April of 1999, “thoughts and prayers” did not prevent:

—The shooting  deaths of 12 people in Atlanta two months later.

—The slaying by gunshsot of six people at a prayer service in Ft. Worth.

—Sniper slayings of ten in Washington in 2002.

—Killing by gunshot of six on the streets of Chicago in 2003.

—A hunter killing six fellow “sportsmen” after an argument in Wisconsin in 2004.

—The deaths by gunfire of seven worshippers at a church service in Wisconsin in 2005.

—The slaughter by a Pennsylvania shooter of six school girls in 2006.

—The massacre of 32 innocents at Virginia Tech in Blacksburg, Va., in 2007.

—Shootings in 2008 in Washington, Arizona, California and Illinois that left 20 dead.

—The deaths by gunfire of 58 people at seven different United States locations in 2009.

—The Rep. Gabrielle Giffords shooting in Tucson in 2011 that left six dead including a nine-year-old girl who wanted only for everyone to be able to splash happily in rain puddles.

—The deaths by gunshot in 2012 of 38 Americans, including 20 first grade children at a school in Newtown, Conn.

—The fatal gunning down of 19 people in two separate shootings in 2013.

—Seven shooting deaths in a gunman’s rampage in Isla Vista, CA, in 2014.

—11 killings by gunshot at two sites in 2015.

And now, at least 50 dead and another 53 hospitalized by a single shooter’s gunfire at a nightclub in Orlando, FL.

Spare me your “thoughts and prayers,” office holders and public figures.  Give me laws.  Strict laws.  And enforce them.  Yes, take away the guns of the NRA, every single god damnable one of them. And if they resist, throw their sorry asses in jail.

Don’t dare mention your distorted version of the Second Amendment, you sex-challenged jackoffs waving your AR15s and Glocks.  Anyone who can read and think knows that it was written two and a half centuries ago to assure the wherewithal for a standing militia when there was a need for a standing militia to defend the new country.  Today we have the biggest, costliest, most powerfully armed military in the history of the world and the idea of needing a militia is absurd.  Today, virtually every mid-sized city police department is better armed than the Wehrmacht, but for all of their tanks and guns and swat teams the Orlando cops could not prevent a single armed hater from slaughtering 50 people in the middle of downtown. Because he had guns, stupid.  GUNS.

Until they are forever banned we cannot call ourselves civilized.  We are a sick, sick, sick, sick society.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Doomsday. A Holocaust of Our Own Making.

The collective electorate, I am certain, has no idea what peril it has wrought for the republic.

Of course, even before re-electing Bush II the collective electorate had manifested its profound ignorance to the rest of the world. (A British tabloid headlined the American election results of 2004 thus: How Can 50 Million People Be So Stupid?”)

Now, we fools have put ourselves on the brink of nuclear war.

For all of his egoism, racism, buffoonery, ignorance and disdain for simple civility, the greatest danger about a potential Trump presidency is that he would blunder us into nuclear war.

For all of her duplicity, greed and neoconservatism, the greatest danger of a Hillary presidency is that she would lead us into nuclear war.

But we will vote one of them into the White House.

Hang onto your ass, Amerika.  The worst is yet to come.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Environmental Science and Media Failures

Craig Ammerman, the last editor of the Philadelphia Bulletin before it died, once said, “there’s a lot not to miss about daily metropolitan journalism.”

And this was before it got really bad.

We had warnings. Years ago, the New York Times fired a good reporter, Phil Shabecoff, from the environmental beat.  Why?, I asked him.  “They said I was too pro-environment.”

The astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyspon had an answer for that.  “Shouldn’t we be looking at the educational system that somehow allows people to not think about data, to not think about what is or is not true in the world?”

Too pro-environment?  Times editors, like everyone else, are entitled to their own opinions, but they’re not entitled to their own facts. Shabecoff left the Times and wrote a brilliantly prescient book about the American environmental movement called “A Fierce Green Fire.”  Edward O. Wilson, himself a giant in environmental science, called it “a timely, wise and urgently up-to-date” contribution to  the literature of the field.

American journalism has a shabby record on environmental coverage.

The greatest crisis of our time, the man-wrought climate change on a rapidly-warming planet, happened while American newspapers, magazines and broadcast services were scrambling to, at worst, stifle the story at the behest of powerful corporate advertisers, or at best, present “ both sides” of a story that really had only one side.  Truth is the objective of good journalism.  Once arrived at, there is no need to solicit false prophets to say, “On the other hand . . .”

News organizations reported the recent flooding in Texas and in France and the abnormally early start of hurricanes on the American east coast as natural phenomena.  In fact, they are symptoms of global warming and climate change. Yet to even the most responsible media this truth is too “controversial” to report. 

Water vapor above the oceans has increased by 5% in the last 35 years. Water vapor is a greenhouse gas.  It reflects heat back to earth. The result is what scientists call a "water vapor feedback loop" that accelerates the rate of climate warming over time.

A new peer-reviewed study published last week in a scientific journal shows that global temperatures could rise more than 11 degrees Fahrenheit by 2300. 

 The lead scientist for that study, Katarzyna Tokarska, of theUniversity of Victoria in Victoria, British Columbia, warned that, “if we continue to burn our remaining fossil fuel resources, the Earth will encounter a profound degree of global warming, of 6.4 to 9.5 degrees Celsius [about 11 to 17 degrees Fahrenheit] over 20th-century averages by 2300." 

Such an increase in warming, which the scientists called “a worst case scenario,” would be catastrophic for life on this planet.

Of course, weather and climate are different things.  But the relationships between  extreme weather events and long-term  climate change are too important to the future of mankind to be ignored.  They are, to borrow a phrase that itself has been tarnished by the irresponsible media, “an inconvenient truth.”

We need to learn how to recognize and think about “what is true in the world.”

Saturday, June 4, 2016

Muhammad Ali, Pugilist and . . . Pundit?

Acel Moore, a fellow editor at the Philadelphia Inquirer, dropped by my office one day in the late 70s to ask if I’d be interested in publishing a column by Muhammad Ali.  He said that a longtime friend, a Philadelphian who was in Ali’s inner circle, had proposed the idea to him.

“Let’s talk,” I said.

The feature content of the Inquirer was among my responsibilities, and a regular column by the most recognizable human being in the world would sell a lot of newspapers, perhaps even win the circulation war with the Philadelphia Bulletin.

Although I urged them to bring him with them, the Ali negotiating team arrived without The Champ.  I had hoped to be able to judge in person how serious Ali was about becoming a newspaper columnist. His delegation assured me that he was enthusiastic, had even come up with the idea himself.  “He wants a forum,” they said, “to get his message to as many people as possible.”

If the column came to be, I told them, major syndicates would be bidding to distribute it worldwide.  I also had heard that Ali — once banned from boxing because he refused to be drafted for the Vietnam war — was strapped for money.  I think he envisioned the newspaper column as a big payday —  probably a bigger one than the Inquirer alone could afford.  I was thinking of a partnership with a syndicate.

“What would the column be about?” I asked Ali’s contingent.

“All the big issues of the day,” came the reply.  “Ali has a lot to say about what’s going on in the world. He would pull no punches, you can be sure.”

“Who would be his ghost writer?” I asked.

“He would write it himself.  He would not trust a ghost writer.”

“Do you have any sample columns?”


“Bring me some and we’ll continue these discussions.”

They never came back,  I understand they took the proposal to a major syndicate but couldn’t reach a financial agreement.

When Ali refused to be drafted, he wrote:

“Newspapers have given the American public and the world the impression that I have only two alternatives in taking this stand: either I go to jail or go to the Army. There is another alternative and that alternative is justice. If justice prevails, if my Constitutional rights are upheld, I will be forced to go neither to the Army nor jail. In the end I am confident that justice will come my way for the truth must eventually prevail.

“My conscience won’t let me go shoot my brother, or some darker people, or some poor hungry people in the mud for big powerful America. And shoot them for what? They never called me nigger, they never lynched me, they didn’t put dogs on me, they didn’t rob me of  my nationality, rape and kill my mother and father. … Shoot them for what?"

He was the poet laureate of pugilism: 

--“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, his hands can’t hit what his eyes can’t see.”

--“I done wrestled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale; handcuffed lightning, thrown thunder in jail; only last week, I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick; I’m so mean I make medicine sick.”  

--“I’m so fast that last night I turned off the light switch in my hotel room and got into bed before the room was dark.”

On TV one time, David Frost asked him, what would you like people to think about you when you’re gone?

Ali replied:

I’d like for them to say:
He took a few cups of love.
He took one tablespoon of patience,
One teaspoon of generosity,
One pint of kindness.
He took one quart of laughter,
One pinch of concern.
And then, he mixed willingness with happiness.
He added lots of faith,
And he stirred it up well.
Then he spread it over a span of a lifetime,
And he served it to each and every deserving person he met.

Muhammad Ali (nee Cassius Marcellus Clay), The Greatest, is dead at 74.

If I’d had my wits about me his obituaries might also say that his newspaper columns were read by millions around the world.  He had something to say, after all,  and he pulled no punches.

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Geezer Lunch at the Club

At 72 Clyde is the youngster in the lunch bunch, where, no matter how it starts the conversation inevitably turns to medical updates.

I mentioned my macular degeneration.

"You should try audio books," Clyde said..  "They're really nifty."  ("Nifty"!?!)

"Can't hear," I said. (I have worn electronic things in my ears for nearly 20 years.)

"I FORGOT," Clyde apologized.

Bruce, who had hobbled to the table on a cane, said they were going to have to redo his latest knee surgery.  Same as with the other one three years ago.  "Old age isn't for sissies," he said.

"Beats the alternative," Clyde said helpfully.  He still plays a little tennis, albeit badly.  Bunt and lob, that sort of crap.

The rest of us simply exchanged the kind of glance that implies a shrug.

"Had to have the pacemaker replaced last week," Garry reported.

"Infection?" someone asked.

"Bad battery," Garry said.

"Technology of those things is getting better by leaps and bounds," Clyde said.  (He doesn't even have a cardiologist yet!)

"Hmmm," Garry said.

John updated us on his plantar fasciitis.  The $400 shoes hadn't helped.  He said he had found a new podiatrist.  "Any progress?" I asked.  "Too soon to tell," he said.  "How's your hand?"

"Decent range of motion," I said, "but the arthritis is worse." John had fasciitis in both feet.  I had it in both hands.

"You were wise to opt for surgery," Garry said.  "Ron had the injection and the contracture just got worse.  Poor guy can't even hold a tennis racquet any more."

All of us had once been tennis players.  One by one the infirmities of age had forced us to quit. I had bought five "bonus years" with a left hip replacement in my late 70s, but now the other hip is causing problems.

"Maybe you guys would like pickle ball," Clyde said.  Pickle ball is the latest fad at the club.  Sort of like geriatric badminton played with some kind of whiffle ball.

"Rather play dominos," Garry said.  I agreed.

We finished lunch quickly because everyone was on some kind of special diet imposed by doctors.

"How about an aperitif?" Clyde suggested. "I'll buy."

The rest of us rolled our eyes.


Friday, May 20, 2016

Knights of the Language War

I googled “Winners and Sinners” today and got reams of information about a martial arts movie.

God help us.

Winners and Sinners was the name of an in-house organ written by Theodore Bernstein, assistant managing editor of the New York Times, its guru of style, arbiter of grammar and usage and minder of language and taste.

Ted came to mind when I got to thinking about how sloppy writers and editors have allowed “media” and “data” — both plural nouns — to become commonly wedded to singular verbs.  “Where are all the slot men?” I asked myself.  Gone to graveyards, every one, myself replied.

Slot men, also called copy chiefs, were the last bastion against bad or careless writing in good newspapers, back when there were good newspapers and they cared about good writing.  Good slot men had virtually memorized Ted Bernstein’s books, “Headlines and Deadlines,” “Watch Your Language,” “More Language That Needs Watching,” “The Careful Writer” and others. Good slot men worried about the crimes against the language committed in common usage, and pounced upon them when they crept into newspaper copy.  Jim wilson of the Detroit Free Press wearied of the fight.  “I think we’ve lost the battle  of ‘anymore,’” he once lamented.

Ted Bernstein, who died in 1979, kept up the fight until he was in his grave.  Winners and Sinners waged the battle so elegantly, and so wittily, that it built up a subscriber list of “freeloaders” throughout the world of journalism.  “It has,” the Times reporter Wayne King once wrote, “the force of law.”

Ted, a kindly and genial presence in the Times newsroom, was no autocrat of the bullpen; he considered the language to be a living thing, always evolving, always illuminating the life of letters in new and exciting ways.  But he would not allow it to be altered by whim or fad or carelessness. 

As our political discourse coarsens, I am reminded of a debate that took place in newsrooms across the country during the political unrest of the 1960s.  The zealots of the young left were particularly profligate in the use of what the Knight Newspapers journalist Lee Winfrey called “a 13-letter appellation for those who are hopelessly Oedipusly inclined.” Copy chiefs and style arbiters on most newspapers militantly policed reporters’ copy to root out nasty words, even in direct quotations.  Many reporters argued that in the new standards of the times, newspapers should relax their rules.  Ted heard the arguments, weighed them, but wrote: “Be a motherfudger.”

Copy editors and slot men labored in under-appreciated anonymity. Ted used Winners and Sinners to applaud their efforts.  One of the favorite features of W&S was called “trophies of a headhunter” which singled out headlines that told the story with wit, or humor, or, as Ted often wrote, represented “a tough one made to look easy.”  The writers of trophy heads were always named.  Sinners, on the other hand, were spared public identification although their misdeeds were dissected in features like “two-faced heads.”

When Ted Bernstein died, the Times continued Winners and Sinners with other authors, including Evan Jenkins, a longtime national desk editor, but eventually it died.

Shoddy sequence of tenses, litotes, split infinitives, officialese and kindred sins are more remindful these days of Miss Thistlebottom than of the witty and wise journalist who invented her.  These are the days of reporters who  wrote fiction and had it published, of bureau chiefs who regurgitate the government’s lies unchecked and unverified, of propagandists pretending to be journalists who make heroes of people like Donald trump.

Sad.  Maybe it had its beginnings when we lost “the battle of anymore.” Who knew back then how far we would fall?

Friday, May 13, 2016

Profiteer in Depravity

How fitting in Donald Trump’s Amerika: the craven racist who killed an unarmed boy over a bag of Skittles is auctioning the weapon he used to snuff Trayvon Martin’s life.

Bidding starts at $5,000.  The killer, George Zimmerman, will get much more than that.  Amerika is full of boastful haters willing to pony up  for such a fine, racist souvenir.  Zimmerman is a hero to them. And Trump’s successful campaign for the Republican presidential nomination has given them a fuhrer, a populist fascist to idolize.  What a fine icon Zimmerman’s gun will be to wave at Trump’s political rallies.

Trump’s ascent to the status of serious presidential aspirant accelerates his country’s descent to fourth-nation status — an economically broken, politically corrupt, culturally riven,  war-driven oligarchy led by profiteers whose morality degrades as their riches rise.  

There is no hope for redemption now, just as there is no choice for the largely ignorant mass of voters in next November’s election.  Trump is the Republican nominee.  Thanks to the rigged Democratic nominating apparatus, Hillary Clinton will be the Democrat.  Scylla and Charybdis. How did this former democracy arrive at such a state? Perhaps, as many revisionist historians suggest, it’s been lurking within us for a long, long time.

Jim Crow.  The KKK.  Woodrow Wilson.  Slave-owning founders.  The Philippines.   Remember the Maine.  The Gulf of Tonkin.  Sacco and Vanzetti.  Vietnam. Throw a dart at an era in our history and it will stick in something unsavory.

Zimmerman’s sick notion to profit from the sale of the weapon he used to kill an innocent black kid is one small symptom of the greater malaise afflicting the United States in our era.  A particularly disgusting one, but small in the scheme of things.

He says he will donate the proceeds from the sale to fighting against the “Black Lives Matter” movement.

So what?  Black lives will still matter.  His still will not.

Sunday, April 10, 2016

"Our Guys" in Kiev Come Unglued

“Yats is the guy,” crowed Victoria Nuland, the American assistant secretary of state under Hillary Clinton and architect of the U.S. coup d’etat in Kiev, in an intercepted 2014 telephone conversation with the U.S. ambassador to Ukraine, Geoffrey Pyatt.

Well, “Yats” was the guy.

Arseniy Yatsenyuk  was installed by the U.S. as prime minister of Ukraine after the elected president, Viktor Yanukovych, was driven into exile in Russia by a “popular uprising” engineered in Washington. Now, Yatsenyuk has said he will proffer his resignation to the parliament tomorrow.The other American puppet in the Kiev government, President Petro Poroshenko, has been named as a tax cheat in the so-called Panama Papers, and is facing calls to resign as well. In his first year as president, Poroshenko, already a billionaire in the chocolate business, increased his net worth by 20 per cent.

 “Yats” and Poroshenko were billed by their U.S. patrons  as crusaders who would clean up the corruption of the ousted Yanukovych government in Ukraine. Now, their own corruption is their undoing. So much for one of the great foreign policy achievements of Secretary Clinton and her neocon henchfolk.

The Ukraine regime change to a Yatsenyuk-Poroshenko government was part of the larger Washington ploy to bring down Vladimir Putin in Russia by ensnaring its neighbor, Ukraine, into the net of European Union and nudging NATO weaponry  to the very borders of the bear.

Last week, in an advisory election, the Netherlands voted 2-1 not to take part in the EU squeeze play on Kiev.  The Dutch government, which has already agreed to join in, doesn’t have to heed the voice of its people,  but would pay a political price for caving in to Washington now.

Meanwhile, there’s a fragile cease-fire in the civil war between the pro-Russian eastern Ukraine and the duped and discredited regime in Kiev.  The latest contretemps in the west won’t make that truce any more stable. Another spike may be coming in the human toll for Washington’s foreign policy blunders there.

This is just one of many areas of the world where ex-Secretary Clinton’s “foreign policy expertise” is a tragic fiction, a myth manufactured to enhance her campaign for the Democratic nomination for president.

Her toadying speech to AIPAC last month made it clear that Israel's warhawk prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, would be an ad hoc foreign minister and policy-maker in a Clinton II administration. Her so-called East Asia “pivot,” the decision to grant NATO-equivalent “ally” status to Afghanistan, the decision to attempt to maintain an impossible status quo in Pakistan . . . each of these blunders casts doubt on her foreign policy credentials. Not Benghazi, but the decision to ignore the advice of the Pentagon and join in the military overthrow of Gaddafi in Libya created a chaos for which we and the world continue to pay a terrible price.  And when Gaddafi was sodomized by bayonet, this woman snickered and said, “We came, we saw, he died.”

Is this the sort of mind we want in the Oval Office?

Friday, April 1, 2016

The Third Party Voting Option

Ron Paul was always worth listening to during his long career as a U.S. congressman.  He still is.

Recently he told a CNN interviewer that  he wouldn’t vote for either Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump, if they became the nominees of their respective parties. "What I'd like to have on all of the ballots is 'none of the above,'" he said.

Clinton and Trump “both support the military industrial complex, the federal reserve, deficits and entitlements, and an invasion of our privacy," Paul said. "It's super nationalistic populism.” 

His advice? Vote the Green party if you’re progressive, otherwise vote the Libertarian party.

The third party option is not at all popular in American politics.  Most right wing pundits are shaming the Republican candidates for backing away from their pledge to unite behind the Republican nominee regardless of who he is.  On the Democratic side, the Jill Stein Green option is scorned by even Sanders supporters.

The lesser of two evils doctrine rules the day on both sides.

I recently took part in a spirited on-line round-table among liberals. Only two of us stood firm on not voting for Clinton if she is the nominee. All of the others cited variants on the lesser evil theme.

Even if she were wrong on only one major issue (the Republicans are wrong on just about everything), that issue alone, war mongering foreign policy, would disqualify her for the presidency.  In particular, she is the architect of the overthrow of the legitimate government in Ukraine and the deliberate antagonism of Russia.  Pushing NATO and U.S. arms to the very borders of Russia is the equivalent of Nikita Khrushchev’s madness in putting missiles in Cuba in 1962.  We narrowly averted nuclear war then; there is no guarantee we can do so again. As evidenced in her recent pandering speech to AIPAC, Clinton is dedicated to not just continuing but expanding the role of Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel’s mad hawk prime minister, in American foreign policy.  This further militates  against a peaceful resolution of the U.S.-Russia contretemps in which Clinton is so instrumental. Clinton, Victoria Nuland, Bob Kagan, Doug Feith et al  are betting that nobody, not even Vladimir Putin, would actually push the nuclear button.  They're certain that in a conventional war, our military might and global network of bases would prevail.  Meanwhile, their cockamamie antics in the South China Sea, and their belligerence in eastern Europe, are driving Russia and China into each other's arms. If you consider a Russia-China military alliance, victory in conventional war becomes less certain, and probably so terribly costly that it's no more of an option than mutual assured destruction by nukes.

If Clinton and Trump are the nominees, only strong showings by minority parties can send the message the executive branch would need to hear, calling for restraint and diplomacy rather than rattling of nuclear sabers.

The only real strength of the lesser evil position is that the president nominates Supreme Court justices.  One vacancy exists, and others almost certainly will occur during the term of the next president.  The notion of Donald Trump choosing judges for the highest court in the land is almost too horrifying to contemplate.  

But so, too, is the notion of a SCOTUS with nothing to adjudicate in the hell of nuclear winter, or a nation bled dry by endless war against truly powerful opponents.