Bush/Kerry Round II: At the end of the debate, I turned to my wife and said, "What did you think?" Alas, she was asleep, which I think may have been the only logical reaction to the two idiots onstage.

Bush was, obviously, much improved from last weeks performance. He was obviously more comfortable than Kerry. He was funnier, more at ease among "the people." (All of Kerry's attempts at humor, on the other hand, landed with a clang.) So give this one to Bush. He was in his element. That said, both were wooden when nudged off their talking points, Kerry incoherently so. I don't think many minds were changed last night.

High points: 1) Kerry quoting Potter Stewart about how a well written court opinion is one in which you can't tell if it was wrtitten by "a man or a woman; a Muslim, a Jew, or a Christian; a Harvard faculty member or a backhoe operator; my mother or a household pet." Something like that. Whatever, I'm pretty sure that's not what Stewart said. 2) Bush's weird posture. 3) Kerry saying "Go figure!" at the end of one of his incoherent spells. 4) Bush's stark inability, after Kerry repeatedly took credit for the 90s economic boom (but not the bubble), to say, "Senator, if you think the government, rather than hard-working Americans, made that economy grow, you definitely shouldn't be president." 5) Kerry: "I was in Kyoto." On his way back from Cambodia, no doubt. 6) Bush, on a Kerry answer: "That answer made me want to scowl." 7) Kerry again invokes Reagan as a foreign policy leader of great merit, one Kerry himself would seek to imitate. Look up the Congressional Record for Kerry's first term. He was the Rufus T. Firefly of Reagan's Cold War policy: Whatever it is, I'm against it!

And now, to the partisans: Ryan Lizza at TNR says, naturally, that Kerry won handily. Why?

Here is the simplest way to figure out who won the debate last night: When you went to bed, were you thinking more about Bush or Kerry? I was concentrating on the president. I kept thinking about the way he was yelling through the first half of the debate. I couldn't get the picture of him during the cutaway shots out of my head--that blinking blank face, obviously trying hard not to make any of those funny expressions from the first debate.

That seems like a good way to score a debate . . . when no other scoring rubric can put your boy on top. And here's Hugh Hewitt on how much ass Bush kicked. Hewitt at least has an argument. But, again, I say little changed last night. This election will come down to (as Kerry would say) "gut check time" in the voting booth. That calculus favors Bush, I think.

Of particular use tonight: How to have fun with statistics. Let's envision how Kerry and Bush might use some statistics to their advantage:

Kerry: "More American soldiers have been killed in Iraq than in the entire 100 Years War!"

Bush: "John Kerry only served four more months in Vietnam than I. Heck, than Cheney or Ashcroft, for that matter."

Kerry: "This administration has lost more jobs in the internet-related fields than Ronald Reagan and George H.W. Bush combined!"

Bush: "Kerry has zero support from the ranchers and cattlemen of the very state he has represented in the Senate for decades!"

Anyway, I'm sure they can do better than that.

About Rodney: Is it just me? I mean, the man was a hoot, but why is he being eulogized as Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, and George Carlin incognito at the big room at Grossinger's? Read TNR's pitiful farewell; it's a freaking meditation on hardship, and a shoo-in for poseur line of the week:

Laced into nearly every Rodney joke is an affecting aspect of emotional pain. "I can't get no respect" becomes the mantra, and it's easy to look at an unattractive maker of dirty jokes and laugh at him. But in the end the mantra is just a marketable package designed to allow him to distribute effective zingers marinated in deep meaning.

"Zingers marinated in deep meaning"? Check, please. I know plenty of people with lives of hardship, some shittier than Rodney's -- and without the money and fame. I'm not bashing the man, here, but he did make a pile in the 70s and 80s, even if he did blow it all on the trifecta of booze, coke, and hookers. Sure, sure, money can't buy happiness, and all that rot. Tell you what, if your money ain't making you happy, send it my way; you ain't using it right.

I thought Rodney was funny, particularly in Easy Money and, to a lesser extent, Back to School (which would have been better if the film-makers hadn't decided to go for the PG rating). But it was all on well-worn territory. Rodney, despite making the no-respect-loser persona clearly his, never told a joke that he couldn't have turned around and sold to any other Jewish comic except Woody Allen.

It seems like every day the bar gets lower for the media-canonization of yet another dead celebrity. Jesus.

But this one goes to 11: For those days when you want to listen to your stereo, from eighteen miles away, I give you "The Brain Pulverizer".

499,999 bloggers: Sorry Eno, I didn't watch it (although I've got it recorded on DVR, so I may watch it eventually. Right now I'm more concerned with watching the Yankees struggle to get past the Twins. Big los last night, and tonight looks bad already.

I thought it was interesting that the VRWC of bloggers called it for Cheney pretty quick, but Big Media painted it as a draw. Well, interesting if you're fascinated by the overly predictable. I'd just as soon watch a city council debate over leash laws, for all the import a VP debate has. And for that matter, I'll be missing Friday's Town Hall debate, as well. Camping near Ashville this weekend.

Can there be a winner in the V.P. Debate?: While I tend to agree that Cheney was the better on substance and preparation (he was wrong about never meeting Edwards before, however as Russert pointed out this morning), and pretty good on presentation, I still think that it sends a bad message to have the Veep look more presidential than the President. Let's face it: if Cheney had any charisma whatsoever, W would still be looking for work (of course with Daddy around, he'd get it).

So the question is, are people voting for W b/c they know they get Cheney, or do they vote for W because they think he still brings something to the table? About the only thing of substance I can come up with, is W's faith-based leanings - clearly, people identify with his born-again spirituality, and like someone with moral convictions w/r/t his stances on the moral issues in domestic politics.

Senator Hair certainly has the Clinton thumb-strike, and the hair. But what he lacks is the ability to laugh at himself. He takes himself way too seriously. Clinton always had that glimmer in his eye that told you, "Hey, I get the joke, but I'm going to do this thing anyway" (and yes, the glimmer meant more than that). Edwards just has this pious drone about poor working americans, my dad in the mill, blah blah blah. And yes, he has represented probably hundreds of poor people, but he never took one pro bono case, and instead, reaped about $150MM in jury awards. I'm not drinking his revival tent kool aid.

So, Cheney victorious, but again, his strengths only undercut W's weaknesses.

What? No rash of posts on the all-important VP debate? Don't be falling down on the job, now, boys. I'll step right up and admit that I turned it off before it was over; about 10:00, Eastern Daylight, I'd had my fill. What can you say? Dick Cheney is thoroughly competent in a dull, rather technocratic kind of way. He had facts at his disposal. He was prepared and articulate. You can see why he was a successful CEO. And, like Kerry the other night, he won -- on paper.

That said, John Edwards was also prepared and articulate, even if his manner was condescending, embarrassing in its aw-shucks folksiness. It was like watching a huckleberry car salesman who thinks he's charming the knickers off Auntie Em down at Charlie's Used Lot. It's disgusting and transparent, and (viz Bill Clinton) it seems to work on many Americans.

Now, honestly, I don't know what to think. I found Edwards unctuous and sly. I'd count Grammy's silver dessert spoons after a visit from Edwards. But I thought the same of Clinton, and America still is not over its romance with the big lug. So Edwards's dip-spit charm and greasy smile might just do the trick. He was certaily the winner last night in the style category. Some of his winning moments included the rap on Cheney for opposing the Department of Education, way back when (as only a barbarian could, right?); the Halliburton stuff, mud that he made stick by sheer plod; and the Tora Bora point, to which Cheney never really had a comeback.

You'd like to think that Americans would see the competence in Cheney, but Senator Handsome seems to fit the empty-headed but blandly attractive zeitgeist of celebrity-driven America. To put it plainly, he looks good enough to be somebody important, even if he's not. That might be all he needs.

That said, who the hell watched, other than me and half a million bloggers?

Not required reading: Or viewing, for that matter, but if you have any love for the Star Wars Trilogy (the first one) then you might like Johnathan Last's take on the new DVD release. I agree completely with his overall view on George Lucas' gluttony when it comes to his movies. Let's just say he never misses a chance to squeeze a buck out of the beloved. I've recently watched the latest rendering of the movies, and I was very disappointed with most of the changes. The opening scene of Jedi, in Jabba's lair, is campy enough to make you long for Jar-Jar Binks, and Last exposes the inconsistencies of putting Hayden Christiansen into the final scene, as Luke looks on the images of Yoda, Obi-Wan, and Anakin. The sound of the movies has always been impressive, but I don't know if it's any better now, for the average viewer at home, anyway. That kind of improvement needs the theater, I think. In all, Empire is the least changed and therefore remains the best of the lot.

I appreciate the blogger's kind sentiments, and I hold him in high regard. His service to The Firm is admirable, and his skill and daring on the lacrosse field make all Americans proud. It's good to know, in these days of fringe politics, that what unites us (beer!) is stronger than what divides us (you forgot the damn beer!).

By the way: Eno, I admire the way you follow up a day of vodka and beer with semi-stale Canadian donuts. I admire your affection for linen. I respect your service to this Blog, no matter that you forgot to show up for your physical, and other related duties, for nearly the entire month of August.

Flyer, I admire your handicap (the golf one, not the mental thing). I admire your steadfast avoidance of sobriety. I respect that you, on most days, get your shoes on the right feet.

Kerry wins: But he's still wrong, and James Lileks makes it clear why. It's not polite for the President to speak this clearly, but if Bush would say this, he'd win in a landslide:

Here’s the thing. I’d really like to live in John Kerry’s world. It seems like
such a rational, sensible place, where handshakes and signatures have the power
to change the face of the planet. If only the terrorists lived there as well.

Via instapundit

Sober . . . is the wrong way to score a debate, Razor. I appreciate your analysis, but when were these things ever won or lost on debating points? Reagan wasn't exactly playing the policy wonk when he said "There you go again!" to Carter. As I mentioned below, having the better debating style was no help to Gore in 2000. This is all about intangibles. As a debate, yes, Kerry won. But both men trod water for 90 minutes. If Kerry gains, it will be a blip, about enough to steal the last of Bush's convention bounce. That's all.

The Fun Part: Now go back and read the partisans' comments. Great, delusional stuff. Hugh Hewitt calls this a Bush triumph, while TNR's Ryan Lizza effuses:

There are three keys to presidential debates: expectations, style, and substance. Kerry won on all of them.

You could claim, as I mentioned, that Al Gore won on at least two of those three criteria in 2000, but lost the debates. I'll wait and see how Kerry played in Peoria.

Neither candidate redefined himself, neither shifted "the dynamic on the ground" (to recycle an overused bogus phrase from last night). Here's one big factor you won't read about elsewhere, though: This debate played to Bush's strong suit -- the war. The other debates will cover turf more friendly to Kerry. So tonight was Bush's best chance to put Kerry away; he did not. If you liked hearing Kerry say "As you will see at johnkerrydotcom, I have a thirty-point plan . . ." you're going to be in hog heaven at the domestic policy debate.

Sober Analysis: First of all, you two complain of Kerry's snobbishness while you both swill English concoctions that the American People can't afford. You obviously have benefited from the Bush tax cuts for the wealthy. Either that or you really are part of our broad, international alliance against terror. Still, doesn't Rolling Rock do it for you anymore? God, how you've both changed.

I don't know if this is possible, but either you score it as a debate, or you score it as two opposing commercials. If it's a debate, I don't know how you call it a draw or a weak win for Kerry. If it's a debate, Kerry fucking wiped the floor with Bush. I mean, a debate is about a) elocution, b) preparedness, and c) persuasion.

On elocution (and using the 10 point must system), it's Kerry 9, Bush 5 (note his use of "vociferously" early on; mixing up Bin Laden and Hussein; "loving" the widow of a soldier, etc.). Kerry had a couple of stumbles, but all-in-all, the man is a good speaker, and he doesn't squirm like Bushie.

On preparedness, it's Kerry 8, Bush 6. Kerry had a lot of good stats to throw out, and a couple stuck (90% of costs and casualties; other countries that were more dangerous than Iraq when invaded). Kerry also was decent on offering specifics, although clearly, not too specific. He is not very good on his Iraq plan, but with such a fluid situation, what is there to offer? Bush kept falling back on the conclusory statement of "we're making progress". How? Tell me? Other than training 100,00 Iraqis (in what capacity we're never told exactly), what progess have we made? Yes, we have 10 MM registering to vote in Afghanistan, with nearly half women, but when you start at nearly 0, it's hard not to improve. The January elections aren't fooling anybody either. He talked about "hard choices" repeatedly, but that's a throwaway. More meat, please.

On persuasion, it was closer I'll admit. It's clear Bush is content with staying-the-course and hoping for the best. Don't admit mistakes, talk about how the world has changed. Kerry scored with Bush shifting focus from Afghanistan before being done, but he really, really dropped the ball on his voting for the funding. He failed to persuade me that in voting for the $87B, he wasn't voting for the War Bush created. I think there were ways to do it. I also think he could have done more on the N. Korea comparisons. In every measurable way, N. Korea is more of a threat than Iraq ever was, yet we do nothing - literally nothing. Bush was good on pointing out the Kerry inconsistencies, but he fails to justify his stalwart decisions (Kerry tried to take advantage of this by saying just b/c you're sure, doesn't mean you're right - not bad, but not great). I score it 7 Kerry, 6 Bush.

This was more a debate of not hurting yourself, rather than drawing opposing blood. Again, scoring like a debate, Kerry is the clear winner, only if because his opponent is so bad. There was little real logical argument. Neither side acknowledged mistakes, which helps you avoid catastrophe, but prevents you from being entirely credible. Not that I expect that mind you.

I can't help myself: I want Clinton back, if only for the same reasons Eno wants Bush to win - to wipe the smug smiles away.

Good Newcastle: Glad Eno at least got a good drink out of the evening, and your analysis is right on, sir. This was a sleeper. If I were a pollsters "undecided" I'd still be waffling. Larry King's interviewing Jorge Santos, an advocate of some sort for Latin America, however broad that might be. Bush might have done himself a favor, though, if he had broadened the foreign policy debate into other areas, like LA. His biggest weakness tonight was letting Kerry take the fight to him on Iraq and define foreign policy in the bubble of losses in Iraq. It might have been a more interesting night. As it was, very predictable, graded only on style points. Too bad.

A Pair of Jacks: This'll get called a tie, but in reality, both men lost. Neither did what he had to do. Bush needs to learn that repeating himself is not an argument. Kerry needs desperately to connect with people, not do his lame-ass Pompey-the-Senator act. Bush got in some good hits, but in the midst of an incoherent, rambling argument. Kerry made some good policy points, but buried them in his fourth subclause of the eighth run-on sentence of his tenth monotone paragraph.

You gotta love how Kerry praised the foreign policy of . . . Ronald Wilson Reagan, whom he said he would try to emulate. Kerry spent his first Senate term fighting against everything Reagan did. Somebody call him on it, please.

Final thoughts? A draw, but a lame one. Most Americans switched this off about 30 minutes in, so anything that came up after that just went to the pundits. I'm starting to think that both of these candidates are part of a marketing conspiracy to turn us all into glazed-over tapioca.

The Newcastle was good, at least.

At long last: It's over, and I have peed. Time to begin my wrap-up thoughts.

First, grades.

Bush: C Plus

Kerry: B

Kerry was a better speaker, smoother and more confident. He did a good job of attacking. But I think Bush's weaknesses are his strengths in times like this. His whole attitude is one of "How many times do I have to explain this to you?" He doesn't rack up many debate points, but he makes Kerry look more confused. Like he needs it explained to him. I don't think Bush did squat to convince any Democrats to switch alliances, but he solidified his base. The fact that he got beat rhetorically might help energize Republicans to come out and support their guy. I can't say much more in favor of Bush, sadly. In fact, I expect him to take a quite a large hit in the press, but he would have had to shine for that not to be the case. But I don't think Kerry did much to bring much support to his side, either. I don't think many people will respond to Kerry's mulit-lateral song. I, and not many others, don't to hear that we'll win in Iraq by bringing in the U.N., and Kerry outlined no real plan outside of that. Too bad.

Nuclear proliferation: Yeah, we got the easy shit before Bush was President. That's why we haven't secured more since.

Drunken update: I'm not, three G&T's in. But I am out of ice, due to party crashers. Last cocktail before switching to beer.

Rue the day? Who talks like that? Name the movie for bonus points.

Follow through: Kerry's right with his, "you break it, you own it" line. But isn't that what we're doing? I have a friend who leaves tomorrow for Iraq with the national guard, and he told me that's exactly what they're doing. Working with the locals to fix the problems that exist. Terrorist insurgence is only one of the problems, but it's the hardest to fix. While we're doing that, we're trying to fix the freakin' water system and deliver the mail.

Speaking skills: All right, Kerry is a much better speaker. The only thing Bush has going for him, is he sounds agonized over the decisions he makes. That won't play with the chattering classes, but it might with the public.

A Good Hit: Bush makes a good point. You don't bring allies into Iraq to help by calling this the "wrong war, the wrong place, the wrong time." How do you say (to France, Germany), "Follow me into a mistake, a quagmire"? He's also doing a good job hitting Kerry for flip flops, without using that term.

Allies: Why can't Bush call a spade a spade re: the U.N. The collection of governments that comprises that body have little desire to see us succeed. Abdication of our responsibility is not a plan.

Pinkie's up: Gin is my drink of choice this evening, Eno. In honor of those Imperial Brits, our steadfast allies. The beer's in the fridge, though, being held in reserve for the post-debate follow up.

Clarification: it's Tanqueray, not Sapphire.

Mixed messages: Kerry's used the phrase "mixed message" several times. He's trying to turn the table. Not a good tactic, if he wants to get people to forget the flip flopper tag. Bush will have to nail him on it. Can he? I don't know, but he keeps leaning on the podium. Seems disengaged and flustered, proto-Bush.

Warning: Steven's server is already running pretty slow, so I'll probably be reading his stuff later.

Cutaways: One "cutaway" to Kerry so far. A trend?

Lights, camera, shock therapy?: So there will be lights to show time left in the candidates' answers. My roommate suggests electrical clips on their privates. Maybe on pay-per-view.

Let's Get Ready to . . . point our pinkies as we hoist a glass? What the hell are you laying in as debate juice, Flyer? Sapphire?

Lift a beer with me. We'll still be stinkeroo before Steve finishes frosting his martini shaker (not meant as a euphemism, by the way).

Last minute thoughts: Many are calling this debate the "joint press conference." That's true, as far as pre-planned statements, ignoring questions, and no Lincoln-Douglas style questioning by the candidates of each other. But I look for some surprises, particularly from Kerry. Some say he's got the most to lose, but based on the polls (and his declining numbers) he's got the least to lose. He probably won't pull a Howard Dean and start screaming, but he's got to be animated and (no small challenge for him) funny. He's got to get people to like him. I look for a "zinger" sometime early, and if it's a good one, he'll get more confident. If it's a dud, he'll sleep with the fishes.

And so, the limes are cut, the ice is stocked. Let's get ready to .....drink!

If Only: Hitch, on the Dems holding out for some bad news:

If you calculate that only a disaster of some kind can save your candidate, then you are in danger of harboring a subliminal need for bad news. And it will show. What else explains the amazingly crude and philistine remarks of that campaign genius Joe Lockhart, commenting on the visit of the new Iraqi prime minister and calling him a "puppet"? Here is the only regional leader who is even trying to hold an election, and he is greeted with an ungenerous sneer . . . How can the Democrats possibly have gotten themselves into a position where they even suspect that a victory for the Zarqawi or Bin Laden forces would in some way be welcome to them? Or that the capture or killing of Bin Laden would not be something to celebrate with a whole heart?

Read it all, of course.

By the Way: For the record, I think Glenn has the most-foolproof-debate-prediction award sewn up:

Unless Kerry melts into a puddle on the floor, the media spin will be that he did well and helped his campaign. This is for two reasons. One is, as Newsweek's Evan Thomas remarked, that the press "wants Kerry to win."

The other reason, Glenn says, is that the media wants a horse race. But that's twaddle, the kind of thing Chris Matthews thinks is profound. Think CBS was desperate to believe anything about Busg in the Guard because they want a horse race?

Look, neither one of these guys will stray far enough from talking points to get into any trouble. This will be a game of millimeters. My prediction, similar to Glenn's, is this: Think back to the 2000 debates. Remember how painfully silly Gore looked and sounded? Recall, too, that the center-left media was quick to declare the debates ties, with perhaps a technical victory on debating points each time to Gore. Meanwhile, the entire country was chuckling over Gore's rouge, heavy breathing, and stage-stalking alpha male posturing. Slowly, the CW on the debates changed, settling on the "Bush won because of lowered expectations" line. Four years later, everyone knows that Gore flat out lost those debates because he acted like somebody you'd like to "to quote Bill Buckley) "sock in the mouth." At the time, though, the best the press could offer was that "nobody gained any ground."

My guess is that 2004 will be about the same, and that Karl Rove is doing all he can to make it so.

Drunkblogging: As Eno pointed out, Steven will be doing his drunken best covering the debate tonight, and I don't pretend to be competing with him. I think I can handle the consumption part, but he's got me on the actually writing anything part. That said, I'm temporarily set up on a wireless system while I try to fix my computer problems (thanks to the roommate for the loan). So, as long as this tiny keyboard doesn't drive me crazy, I'll be doing a running commentary and post-game of my own. Largely, though, I'll be following the Vodkaman's post to see how his typing skills deteriorate with each drink. Though, at his request, I'll try to keep the refresh button from being overworked, so as to keep his server from crashing.

Lazy? Second thoughts kicking in about watching the debate. Only five Newkies in the fridge. That may not last through the first half-hour, depending on what wattage Bush has his smirk set to and how quickly Kerry can shove his entire self up his own ass. Can't I just read Tim Blair? After all, it's tomorrow in Australia, so the debate is over already. Wait, or is it yesterday down there? (Timmy, bring an umbrella tomorrow.) Never can remember.

To put a good sharp point on this, remember all the give and take we had some months back about wasted votes and third parties? Well, f*ck it, baby. My mind is made up. I'm going all out for Bush. Why? Because of where I live. (Eric will understand.) I want to see the faces of the liberal schmucks in my town on November 3rd, as they wake to the prospect of FOUR MORE YEARS! I'll grant you this, they'll be four years of governance by a Republican president who might as well be a Democrat. In that way, either Bush or Kerry is four years of entitlement nonreform. But at least I can spend those four years in a near-permanent state of schadenfreude.

I was at a party last weekend and happened to overhear a couple of mouthy liberals goofing about anti-Bush slogans and bumper stickers. One of them (the same guy that asked if there were "any dead animals" in the eggplant parm) had the patchy beard, pullover windbreaker, teva/mandals combo look that just belongs on a man who thinks of himself as a feminist -- the kind of guy who thinks he's a metrosexual, but has never lived anywhere more metropolitan that Amherst. The look on his face made me wish for a Bush-Cheney '04 t-shirt. And that's when I realized it. I do want Bush to win, and for purely selfish, mean-spirited reasons. I want Bush to win to see the whole feminist/abortionist/metrosexual/racialist/crunchy-enviro wing of the Dems quite literally sob into their fair-trade coffee.

There, I've said it.

A little behind: Sorry, but travels, work, and a balky computer have kept me out of the loop lately, but i had to respond to this.

I'm sure my comrades have their own memories of "Scottso," but I have a favorite. Muni's voice to me will forever be linked to the day Stevie Ray Vaughn died in that helicopter crash. WNEW was doing an all day tribute and Muni was intro-ing the song Hard To Be off the yet to be released Family Style, done with brother Jimmie. Muni quoted the words from the beginning of the the song as a fitting description of Stevie Ray's life and music: Roll, and I'll just feel somethin'. It was a perfect radio moment, in a time when radio still had an emotional link to the audience, when a disc jockey did something other than push buttons and plug car dealers and vinyl siding.

I haven't been in the tri-state area in years, but in my mind Muni was the perfect DJ. Wolfman Jack for a different generation. RIP.

I think Radley has nailed it: Regarding the debates, Radley espouses conventional wisdom that they're all about appearance, and who the voter deem most likeable, or in his words, "the guy you'd rather have a beer with." Now, despite Kerry's best efforts to seem at ease with the common folk, while sipping a beer and watching the game, he's never going to be a guy you start doing shots of Jaeger with.

So, in other words, Kerry is sunk. Radley has a particularly telling way of pointing out the differences:

Think back to 2000. Gore mopped the floor with Bush on policy. He had a far better grasp of the issues, was far more articulate, and presented a far clearer vision (I thought that back in 2000 -- and I voted for Bush). Problem was, Gore was an asshole. As one analysis I read put it, Bush came off as the affable kid who never came to class prepared, but was likeable, and cut jokes at the back of the room. Gore came off as the kid who reminded the teacher that she forgot to collect the homework.

Voters still open to being swayed by the debates aren't as interested in policy as they are in personality. It's all about the "guy you'd rather have a beer with." That pans out once you go back over the last few elections: Bush over Gore. Clinton over Dole and Bush Sr. Reagan over Mondale and Carter.

And let's face it. Kerry's a schmuck. Or at least he comes off as one. If Gore was the kid who reminded the teacher to collect the homework, Kerry's the prep school trust-funder who drives a Beamer and ties a pastel Izod across his shoulders. If swing state demographics resembled Greenwich, Connecticut, he'd be golden.

That Was Quick: The Weekly Standard's Joe Bottum has made a bit of a fetish of famous plagiarizers over the past couple weeks. This week's target was Laurence (Don't Call Me "Larry") Tribe, Harvard's Jesus of legal studies on the left. Anyhoo, turns out Larry lifted quite a bit of his book God Save This Honorable Court from another legal scholar, Henry Abraham (who, by the way, sounds pissed).

In no time at all, Big Larry hit the Crimson with the usual story:

[Tribe] said he recognized his "failure to attribute some of the material The Weekly Standard identified."

"I personally take full responsibility for that failure," Tribe said.

Nice to know he's not going to hang it on some grad student, like some other scholars we could name. Still, does "I take full responsibility" cut it? Fer Chrissakes, Larry, your name is on the book. Who did you think we were going to nail for it? Doris Kearns Goodwin?

More to the point, another famous Larry (Summers, Harvard's president) said some strong words after the two other profs (Charles Ogletree and Alan Dershowitz) were publically accused of being Cambridge Cribbers:

Tribe’s mea culpa comes just three weeks after another prominent Harvard faculty member—Climenko Professor of Law Charles J. Ogletree—publicly apologized for copying six paragraphs almost word-for-word from a Yale scholar in a recent book, All Deliberate Speed.

Last fall, Frankfurter Professor of Law Alan M. Dershowitz also battled plagiarism charges. And in 2002, Harvard Overseer Doris Kearns Goodwin admitted that she had accidently copied passages from another scholar in her bestseller The Fitzgeralds and the Kennedys.

University President Lawrence H. Summers told The Crimson in an interview last week—before the allegations against Tribe surfaced—that he did not see "a big trend" of plagiarism problems at the Law School as a result of the charges against Ogletree and Dershowitz, but indicated that a third case would change his mind.

"If you had a third one, then I would have said, okay, you get to say this is a special thing, a focused problem at the Law School," Summers said of the recent academic dishonesty cases.

He declined comment last night.

My emphasis. Summers obviously doesn't know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. (Note, too, that he hasn't lost his golden tongue. You need a pickaxe and miner's helmet to get through that sentence.) If you've had two "situations," you might want to avoid saying that you would have acted upon a third charge. Well, here's the third, Larry. Do something.

I'm Just Saying, Is All: Check-up time. I've noticed that this supposedly political blog has recently taken to any subject at the expense of the policy discussion and media analysis that thousands of devoted readers have come to rely on. And I've noticed, too, the candidates the two major parties have thrown up for this year's presidential race. Coincidence? I'll likely watch the debate on Thusrday, after which I'll be reading the drunkblogging of it here (Note well, Steve, that Flyer thinks he has your ass on drunkblogging; he'll expect a real live, down-home, upended-moonshine-jar kind of session to get back in his good graces.) And then, chances are, I'll check out of this race until roughly 10:00 pm, November 2nd. A man's got to know his limitations.

Hard to Read: This post will be the first of a three-part series on the life and career of Steven Seagal. Yes, Steven Seagal. Now, many of you will scoff, and go off to read the latest from Wonkette, but I bid you, stay. Come with me on a journey of bad-ass aikido moves, cool, three-word movie titles, and ultimately, spray-on-hair and Mafia death threats. You'll be glad you did.

Seagal came out of nowhere and onto the scene in 1988 with "Above the Law". Now bear in mind the environment this movie is entering. 1988 shows both Stallone ("Cobra", "Lock Up" and "Rambo III") and Schwarzenegger ("Predator", "Running Man", "Red Heat") at their peak form. Both "actors" use big muscles and bigger explosions to tremendous advantage; essentially laying claim to a dualopoly on the action movie genre. Simply put, there are no two bigger names. Then comes this un-muscular Italian-looking guy in a ponytail.

The plot is unimportant, but "Above the Law" dealt with something Vietnam, something CIA, something Mafia, all in downtown Chicago. What was important were two things: 1) a new and exciting type of on-screen fighthing using what one might call "combat aikido" - an offensive approach to the most defensive martial art yet created; and 2) a new and different looking action hero - short on muscles, long on greasy hair and "whatuhyoulookinat" attitude. What was also important was me watching this movie on the couch with a certain girl late into the night, but we don't have time for those memories right now.

It may be hard to imagine today, but when Seagal came out, he was taken very seriously, and was very popular. He couldn't act, but he had a strange charisma, and an almost mystical aura about him. Plus there were rumors of CIA and black bag ops which only contributed to the mystery - the thought was "Hey, this guy has done real stuff, so there's something to his movies." Moreover, the guy was a legitimate aikido sensei (of what belt level was somewhat debated), who wasn't just using stunt doubles to throw round-house punches. This guy did it for real, like Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris. He trained in Japan with the top, top senseis of the day.

And for action movie buffs, this intriguing mixture was too good to ignore. He moved onto a series of essentially copy-cat movies, like "Hard to Kill" (marking his debut with Kelly LeBrock, his former employer [he was her bodyguard], then his wife - and unfortunately, not a long-lived marriage - I am convinced they were the Ginger Rogers-Fred Astaire of the late 80s) "Marked for Death" (here the little ponytail is really a focus), and "Out for Justice" (this one marks the peak of Seagal's bad cop/good cop inner conflict - does he remain true to his old ways, or find salvation in his future?). Each one did well, if not exactly spectacularly, giving the hardcore fans more of what they wanted (great fights using a mixture of open-hand and weapons), but still drawing a larger audience than expected.

And yes, at this point, Seagal was starting to drink from his own kool-aid. He was hot and he knew it. But he also knew that despite his popularity, he had to move away from gritty cop seeks revenge for family/buddy/self. He also knew that he needed a two-word title for his movie (see Stallone, Schwarzenegger, supra). Providence came in the form of a big Navy ship, Tommy Lee Jones, and Gary Busey. A signature performance, melding A-list actors (well, for action films), with a big budget, some cool explosions, and a compelling back story. Yes, it's "Under Siege", and that's for Part 2.

Punk's Only Reaganite? Johnny Ramone is dead. (Long live Johnny Ramone.) He pretty much invented the punk guitar attack -- two fuzzed-out minutes of blister-popping power chords in a progression melodic enough to work for a girl group -- and was violently opposed to guitar solos, especially guitar solo wankery. Very little can be done in rock and roll today that doesn't filter through Johnny. He was the anti-prog rock holly stake, the coup de grace to monsters like Yes and ELP.

My favorite Johnny story is about him meeting the very young members of an unknown group called the Clash in London. They told Johnny they felt they need time to polish their sound before they tried to take their act out publically. "Come see us tonight," Johnny supposedly replied. "We can't even play our f*cking instruments."

Sing along: If you want to get in the spirit of Hurricane Ivan, though, you'll need your lyric sheet. Paul Sanchez is one of my favorite New Orleans songwriters and Hurricane Party was a staple at his shows and every time a blower headed for us. Glad I'm not there anymore, in case this does serious damage, but I'm sorry to miss the party.

Hurricane preparedness instruction: What to do when a class 4 is bearing down? Vienna Sausages, Apocalyspse Now....okay, I'm covered. Here's to a New Orleans blogger just trying to ride it out. Hope it ain't the big one, man, but if it is, may you float away safely on your tins of tasty snacks. And enjoy the Jameson while it lasts. I predict you'll be into the stash of K&B brand tequila by midnight.

Rather Sloppy Wouldn't You Say?: I too wish to hop on the Rather-bashing bandwagon. However, because I have no expert knowledge on typefonts, nor am I an inveterate column-reader, I shall leave the hard-core analysis to others.

No, I'm more interested in what CBS will (or more likely will not) do in response to this. We've already seen Rather go on the defensive offensive, but query this: if Rather wasn't Rather, but oh say, Geraldo, or even just a low-level correspondent trying to make his name, isn't it abundantly clear that CBS would have already put the reporter on "administrative leave pending investigation" and start distancing itself from his/her near abdication of journalistic integrity? If your answer is "no", then you buy into the premise that the media is just over-the-top liberal, and will never see the other side to a story.

I am still not that jaded, and I don't see why CBS doesn't take this opportunity to jettison Rather and finally, at long last, install the next anchorperson (and no, Ms. Chung, we're still not taking your calls). Look, you have Brokaw stepping down after the election, so if there was ever a time to take a chance on ratings, now is the time. CBS is number 3 in any event, and in the competition of making reading a teleprompter look tough, Rather is ahead by several lengths. The downside of this move is minimal; the network can only go up from here.

Face facts, this guy's fastball has never been above the mid-eighties, but now, he's resorting to the jalapeno in the nostrils (scroll down to the quote near the end) to bring in the viewers. He's old, he's delrious, and now, he can't even put together a decent scoop. Let him ride out the election like Brokaw, and then cite to the usual "more time with family" or hell, "gone fishing" would even work. Then bring in some hottie.

Courage.

Smokin' (but not peeing) in the boys' room: A very illuminating, if depressing, article by ESPN on a former NFL player and the steps he (and likely others) went through to avoid marijuana detection in their urine tests.

Some helpful hints: When you're not ingesting, fill up as many gatorade bottles with "clean" urine as you can, so that when you start smoking, you have a stockpile to use. The samples are tested not only for content but for temperature, so keep your stockpile in the jacuzzi overnight, then move from bottle to pill container or condom, and tape to your car vents on your trip over to the testing facility. Last, and certainly most importantly, don't substitute your own urine for that of a pregnant woman's - apparently being pregnant in the NFL is worse than being high.

This Is Journalism? Read Bill Safire's piece on the latest CBS "Bush Guard Duty" flare up. After he lays out all the reasons to disbelieve the documents that "prove" Bush was given soft treatment (and there are a lot of reasons), he segues into Dan Rather's defense of the story:

The Washington Post reported Dan Rather's response to questions about the documents' authenticity: "Until someone shows me definitive proof that they are not, I don't see any reason to carry on a conversation with the professional rumor mill" and questioned the critics' "motivation."

Yep, you heard right. The new standard of journalistic ethics at CBS can be expressed thus: We'll run what we damn well please until someone has "definite proof" that it is erroneous.

This Just In: Dan Rather is a secret vegisexual who has been carrying on an orgiastic, decade-long affair with two turnips, an eggplant, and a wilted bunch of watercress suspected of pro-Saddam sympathies.

We'll run with that until we get "definite proof" to the contrary.

Tennis...anyone?: In typical form of the last decade, the finals are nearly upon us, and we're left with also-rans (Henman), who-dats (Johannson), sure-to-tantalize-but-ultimately-fails (Hewitt), and one committed, proven champion who belongs (Federer). I think that whenever Roddick figures out how to be consistent, he should give the Williams sisters a call, who are clearly more interested in what they will wear over how they will play (paging Anna K, paging Anna K).

But I'm not hear to smear my opponents with negative innuendo, I'm hear to tear down the officiating with snide snarkyness. Why, oh why, can't the umpires get video replays? I mean, we let them overrule linesmen, who a) 99% of the time are much closer to the ball, and b) singly devoted to a portion of the court from which their eyes may never waver. Yet, we give ultimate veto power to guy in the chair who has to not only watch the entire court, but religiously keep score (except when the Wiliams girls play, and then the whole scoring thing is sort of optional). Time after time we see the nifty t.v. graphic which in a matter of seconds transforms a live shot into a digital reproduction, and even shows a nifty outline of where the ball landed so as to remove any doubt that it's the right call. I mean, it's a frigging computer, it cannot err (my comptuer tells me this is so)!

Anyway, it can't be that difficult or expensive (at least for the Slams) to give the guy or gal in the chair one of these screens and then all s/he has to do is pretend to look at the screen and nod condescendingly "Yes, it was in." This would certainly free up some brain power to do that difficult 4-point scoring routine.

These words are mine and mine alone: In a dramatic announcement, which is sure to shake academia to its very core, Harvard law professor writing on Brown v. Board of Education, admits to lifting 6 whole paragraphs from a rival Yalie's book on same topic [strangely however, six words from the lifted section were changed].

Now, the plagiarism is attributed to "editing mistakes" when the author delegated too much responsibility to his (probably unpaid) assistants. Yet the author bravely takes a stand and states: "There is no one to blame but me," So, eight words taking the blame; over three paragraphs explaining how his assistants screwed up. So, in the Clinton mode of apology, what he reallly means is: "Come now old boy, I mean, it's the fu*king t.a.s who should be sacked. Ruin their future, I am a Harvard fricking professor, okay? Hey look, Stephen Ambrose!"

Oh Yeah: Did you catch Mark Steyn's wonderful tribute to Ray Charles in the Atlantic? Steyn has a knack for the brief obit sketch, with a Brit's eye for the uncanny, the unknown, or the almost known. His obit for Bart Howward, the composer of "Fly Me to the Moon," was an oddly touching story of the prototype one-hit wonder. Sadly, neither of these is online at the Atlantic site, which jealously guards its best material. Anyhow, Steyn is relating the story of Ray Charles's notorious casting couch for his backup singers. "You can't be a Raelette," quipped Charles, "unless you let Ray."

Classic Ray.

By the way, you can go here and read some of Steyn's other obits to see what I mean about his style. Don't miss the farewell to Brando:

In his penultimate moment in the spotlight, [Brando] made the papers a year or two back when it emerged that he and Jack Nicholson had temporarily moved in together. “Get the buttah!” was no longer a roar of sexual liberation to a Parisian bedmate but a reminder to Jack as he headed out to the supermarket.

Odds and Ends: If I buy two odds, will you show me your end? Christ, you know how busy I've been? I haven't watched a moment of the U.S. Open. Can you believe that? I usually start blogging tennis majors about a week before the tourney. I've been watching the numbers, and I think Federer is the man to beat. Tough call, eh? Okay, I'll go further. Henman looked so good on clay this year that I wouldn't be surprised if he went to the finals on hard, too. Yes, he has to beat Hot Rog to do so, but a guy like Henny, who has struggled so hard to win Wimby, is destined to win a major (if he ever does) away from the sweet London turf. Henman and Hewitt would be a bang-up final, to boot.

Telemundo is a wonderful window into so many things. It is exactly, precisely what American television would be if the same guys from the 50s were in control now. I particularly love the requisite eye candy (REC) on every show. Naturally the REC is always blonde. The babes on the soaps, the game shows, and the news are blonde, too. But, look at the cosmetics ads that they show during the soaps: All the women are medium-to-dark skinned with dark hair, the standard Hispanic (and Mediterranean, for that matter) genetic look. Conclusion: The men who watch Telemundo like women with the Norteamericano look; the women, meanwhile, want to see glamorous women who look like them.

Did you watch the Olympics? I did. I'll admit it. When I was a kid, I was an Olympics nerd. I had a scrapbook that I made of Olympic news clippings: The Miracle on Ice, Bill Johnson (Johnston?) stunning the Jean-Claude Killy wannabes at Sarajevo, even Scott Hamilton and Brian Boitano made it (though I was always more of a Kurt Browning kind of guy -- and secure enough in my masculinity to admit it). I missed the LA summer games in 1984 (the games come to our back yard and I end up in Japan for the whole time?) and after that I sort of stopped paying attention. I think it was probably the first "dream team" of men's NBA stars that finally killed the Olympics for me. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was, since this year I cheered for anyone who was beating the U.S. orangeball squad. I do so love it to see the ball-hogging, gangsta-posing, overpaid, cock-walking, $500-hairdo shithead princesses of the NBA get thrashed by (yes, indeed) Argen-f*cking-tina. Beautiful.

Checking In: I should be checking out. The issue du jour is what? Bush in the National Guard? That's so, like, last year. Are we really going to dredge this issue up again? Last time, for the record:

Bush: Ditched on Vietnam, but signed up to fly a pretty tough plane for the weekend warriors. Maybe went to some parties, did a little tootski, and missed a Saturday AM muster or two. Hell, he had transfered to the Guard in Alabama, man. I think even the NVA was probably level-headed enough to start somewhere other than 'Bama when (in the great pinko endgame) the tide of Communism swept the world. ("Communist tide, this heeyah the Crimson Tide. Y'all shake hayunds, an' less have a clean game, awright?")

Clinton: Ditched on Vietnam (and lied about it, repeatedly) but signed up, instead, for important Rhodes Scholar duty. Peeked up a lot of miniskirts, smoked some pot (and tried to hedge about that one too).

Now, yes, I know we went over Clinton's draft dodgery extensively in '92. But it was pretty much a dead issue in '96 (and, as has been observed, in '96 Clinton ran against a bona fide war hero). Fair's fair, everybody. You couldn't nail Bush on skipping Vietnam last time, I say he gets a pass this time. Come up with something else.

Get your freak on: Cool, disturbing, yet oddly dignifying...this site is your one-stop-shop for all the info on various physical deformities/oddities - like going to the Carny in the privacy of your own home. Very cool.

Mr. Ovitz Here: I liked it better with these two yobs (Enocarbus and Fly-boy) nice and quiet. Oh well, just another challenge for the master. And by the way, hands off the beluga, I had Razor buy some Cheese Nips for you. And "Executive Washroom" means Executive - not "contributing poster". Got it?

On Kerry/Edwards: Oh yeah, they gave a rebuttal, sort of. I stopped paying attention after my esteemed Senator (at least he was elected to be one, though that was only a few years ago and he's been in campaign mode for most of the time) started going on about the 4 million new uninsured and the 2 million newly poor and the 3 million dead puppies etc. What I really noticed first, though, was Edwards' left wrist. He was gesturing with that hand constantly and I couldn't help but spot the yellow wristband that has become so prevalent of late. It's the Lance Armstrong bracelet, the badge of the caring and generous, all endeavouring to "Live Strong" as Lance commands. I feel like the guy who actually favors dead puppies here, but I'm so sick of these bracelets. I know, cancer is terrible, do you have to shove it in my face? They're like LiveAid t-shirts, announcing the morally correct nature of the people they adorn. And I don't know where the fuck people buy them. If it's important that everyone support the cause, and supporting the cause is best done by purchasing a yellow bracelet, why can't I buy one at Eckerd's or the Exxon station. Christ, they must come free with a G-mail account.

But Senator Edwards and Senator Kerry were both wearing theirs tonight (I'd spotted Kerry's before; I think he's got a box of them just in case the handler loses one). It just gives of a phony baloney air of superiority that I can't stand, so they've lost any chance of swinging me to their side.

What'll I do if George shows up on the campaign trail tomorrow sporting the yellow badge of courage? Effin' burn my voter registration card, and pour a stiff drink.

Drunkblogging my ass: Stephen Green may be the hardest working blogger tonight (46 posts in under two hours, nice going Stephen) but he's hardly the drunkest. I had to go watch the Steelers lose to the Panthers tonight and get crossways with a bunch of people who couldn't understand that though I live in Charlotte (and rooted for them wholeheartedly last year in their run to the Super Bowl) I actually watched football prior to 1994 and have been a lifelong Steelers fan and I'm not gonna switch loyalties for some meaningless pre-season game, and can I have another beer please honey. Then i made it home in time to catch the last half of Bush's speech and pour a glass of something brown (dammit, meant to Tivo it so I could hear the whole thing "live"). So I can assure you that V-man's two beer/three martini night doesn't quite measure up.

Which is why he actually has coverage of the speech and I don't. Sorry.

But I do have some thoughts. About thirty seconds after sitting down with chilled beverage in hand, I turned to the girlfriend and said, "Christ, this going to be a bad speech." Bush was going on about supporting the troops and I was thinking this was just the usual pap that you could expect from any speech and he hadn't upped the ante for the big night. Really, he sounded flat and disinterested, not because he was being disingenuous, but because it was tired language that he has to repeat so often it just becomes hard to get up for it.

Then he started to work up a little of passion. I swear, for a guy who they say can't string two words together without tripping over them, you can really tell when he cares about what he's saying. He's a totally different speaker, and a damn good one. Some will call this a home run (Susan Molinari just called it the speech of his life, which I think is a bit strong. The speech after 9/11 was untoppable) which I'm not sure about. As I said, I missed the first half and the text probably won't cut it. Anyway, we'll see how big a bump he gets.

Everybody, including Chris Matthews is raving about what a great convention the GOP had, and I can't help but thinking that they just had a kick ass time in New York. The convention seemed fairly average to me, though with a few surprises. I thought Arnold was very good, probably the best speech of the week (though I missed Rudy Giuliani, but I read it and it didn't seem that great. I swear I'm not trying to "get over" 9/11 but Arnold did a much better job of speaking in broad strokes about what it means to be a Republican and what a war on terrorism entails). I like the theme of a big tent Republican party, I guess because it better be pretty big if I'm gonna continue to fit under it, and Arnold was a brilliant spokesperson for that party.

Zell Miller was exciting, and a little scary. The Southern preacher role definitely gets your attention, but I'm not sure how much it does to convert right-leaning Democrats who think the Republican party is already overrun by evangelicals. They were probably just shocked that Zell had waited this long to bail out, and I guess I was too. A lot of things changed after the attacks three years ago, and I can understand if that's what made Zell lose touch with his party, but he didn't say that in his speech. He should have made it clear to people that the world is not as safe as we once presumed it was and that there had to be a reevaluation of priorities. Kerry's voting record is important, but what he thought ten or twenty years ago is not as important to me as what he's done and said in the last three. I think Miller could have made a better case if he'd stuck to that. And I think The Ratchet Jaw had him on the ropes in that MSNBC interview, until he let him start punching back. Miller had no answer for Matthews' questioning, even if Matthews never lets anyone answer anyway. He was just filling dead air this time.

So it was a good convention, if he gets a big bump and wins, but a bunch of gasbags preaching to the choir if he doesn't (wouldn't it be more exciting if the Republican convention were attended by nothing but MoveOn.org contributors and the Democratic convention had to address the Christian Coalition? Just a thought.). Either way, my glass is almost empty. Stephen feels my pain.

One More Thing: Read Chris Matthews's silly account of his tangle with Zell Miller on Hardball. Jesus, for a show called Hardball, people are getting pretty upset about the fact that some guy came on and played it.

Did you see their actual exchange? Sure, Miller's a total oddfellow who has barely been a Democrat since his appointment to the Senate. Still, Miller's not the first dude to make some pretty wild claims this cycle. Put it this way: Try to imagine Matthews interviewing a Republican who is suddenly stunningly critical of George W. Bush. Think that fellow would have gotten the third degree? The correct answer is, Chris Matthews would be waking up today with a horrible rug burn on his knees.

I questioned [Miller] about some of his remarks. Knowing what I know about how they vote on Capitol Hill, I tried to get him to talk about how senators all the time, for legislative reasons, vote "No" as a legislative tactic because too much money is being spent, when they couldn't have backed the bill otherwise. This goes for conservatives voting against social programs just as it does for liberals voting against weapons systems.

Ah, but have you ever heard Matthews blasting some fruity old socialist for trashing the GOP for voting against social spending by saying, "Oh, those were tactical votes!" Yeah, me neither.

Media Menu: Not being a cable subscriber, I've tuned to PBS for my coverage of the RNC. I'm not disappointed intellectually, although the actual mechanics of the show -- the cuts, the camera choices, the timing -- seems to be under the control of monkeys. Perhaps monkeys on drugs.

Some observations:

David Brooks is no Paul Gigot. I like Brooks, and I probably agree with his social laissez-faire more than Gigot's rock-ribbed conservatism, and besides, both of them shine next to the ever lumpier, confused, and tongue tied Mark Sheilds (who last night mentioned the famous rebel/actor/nutfudge Dennis "Hooper"). By the next convention, Shields will be able to boast that he is "now 95% jowls." (I loved watching Sheilds seethe with hatred, jowls a-jiggle, when seated next to Karl Rove. You could see the look of disgust on Marky's face as he sniffed at everything Rove said.) Anyhoo, back to Brooks. He always looks a bit embarrassed, like his mother is backstage ready to cuff him for shaming the family. ("My son who could have been a doctor is arguing with this fat goy?")

Mike Beschloss is well informed, but is as strange as Dick's hat. Some of the things he chooses to say ("I just have to say, Gwen, that was a really great transition") must be jokes. But all said deadpan. Plus, the Vulcan ears are creepy. His co-panelist Richard Norton Smith is much easier to listen to, much more of a raconteur. Rounding out the panel, Meena Bose reminds me that I never had a professor I could really lust after, at least not in a French-farcy sort of way. (I was, briefly, infatuated with one in a whip-me-beat-me sort of way.) I think it is the great tragedy of my college years.

Elaine Chao -- who's pretty cute herself -- edged out Liddy Dole for the Sesame Street voice award. (Sing along now: "President Bushie-wushie wants to give us all more training grants! Yay! Job training is gooooood!")

Finally, I could use just a touch less of the commentators remarking on how "staged" the conventions are. Isn't that observation itself getting to be a little staged? Whattya want, smoke-filled rooms with unknown wranglers rolling logs to come up with a nominee? If you want surprises, you've come to the wrong barbecue.

Shame on You, Ovitz: It's a sign of what you've done to this place that I am forced to ridicule myself in humorous Hibernian meter.

An accursed name to rhyme, Enobarbus --
Discounting the Latinate arbus.
(Though a linguistic push
Can make arbus mean "Bush,"
Such coincidence shouldn't perturb us.)

Think you can do it without the slant rhyme? Be my f*cking guest, bitch.

"That's not bread, it's crap": Ralph Bennett reports that Interstate Bakeries, makers of Wonder Bread and Twinkies is in dire straits, vicitms of the low carb craze. His reminiscence of Wonder Bread in youth is amusing, how it could be folded up and tucked into a pocket without crumbling while on adolescent adventures are probably very common for several generations of Americans. I didn't get much Wonder Bread as a kid, as my mother baked it fresh, something for which I'm grateful, but I remember going to my cousins' house in New Hampshire in the summer and making sandwiches to take to the beach. Wonder Bread it was, with PB&J, or Fluff, if you preferred, although my mother didn't approve of marshmellow for lunch.

I hope Interstate can survive the Atkins fad, and maybe one day "riboflavin, niacin, and iron" will be the diet of the day. After all, it's not the greatest bread in the world, but it still has a place for packing a lunch for kids to take with them, wherever they go.

Separation of Church and State, Part 3,987,544: Some of you may have read about a 16-year old girl who was recently hanged in a public square in Iran, to warn others of the dangers of committing offenses against morality. Her crime? Taking off her head scarf in a court proceeding to complain of being the victim of a sexual assault by an older man. And people are complaining about the Kobe muck-up.

What is more interesting, and as this article shows, is that even under the harshest interpretation of traditional Islamic law, what she did in no way shape or form merited death by hanging. Sex between unmarried people only gets 100 lashes. Sex by a married woman outside of her marriage requires stoning (which has rarely been carried out of late). But this girl gets hanged for her "sharp tongue" and "undressing in court".

Any more questions why they hate us so much?

What the hell is soy chai?: Sounds like something they put in fertilizer so it won't smell like real, honest-to-G*d fertilizer. I'm sure that's what it tastes like. Whatever it is, I don't think it's been introduced this far south. I'm sure our taste in coffee products isn't the only thing that separates me from the Big O, but hopefully we can find common ground on something. Do you think he likes Celebrity Poker marathons on Bravo? I can't get enough Dave Foley. IM me, Mike. I'll make nachos.

Comments: The comments function seems to be well, non-functioning at moment. I rang up Blogger to see what was going on. Their response was "no comment."

Which you see...is really very funny. See, it's like a play on the whole word. Sort of like my tongue-in-cheek thing with the word "function" above. This is why we were scientifically selected as one of the most intelligent blogs of all time. Now, let me say further that....

MR. OVITZ HERE: I told Razor to get his cute little ass (easy Geffen, I'm not in your camp all of a sudden) back to the plumbing issues in my new suite and worry less over the technical problems of his worthless posting.

However as the comments section is no-go right now, allow me two quick replies to this Flyer fella (see how they all come out of the woodwork when the Ov-Dog is in the house?): (1) Lattes are for extras getting day-rate scale. Soy chai is for Players. Got it? (2) Use a godforsaken spell-check, man. This blog ain't for pikers anymore. Got that?

Free Kobe: Kobe Bryant's accuser has pulled the plug on the criminal case against the NBA star. Of course the prosecution says it has nothing to do with their case crumbling bit by bit in every pretrial motion, but only because the victim is too fed up with the attention. Says DA Mark Hurlbert,

"The prosecution wants to try this case. I want to try this case," he said. "However, the victim has informed us after much of her own labored determination that she does not want to proceed. For this reason and this reason only I am dismissing the case."

Yeah, and if my 105 pound girlfriend weren't holding me back, I'd come over there and kick your ass. They dropped this case because their victim was looking less and less credible every day. I don't feel sorry for Kobe, and it's cetainly possible that he really did rape her, but this, and the still to come civil suit, are looking like George W.'s hated frivolous law suits. I know the standards for liability in a civil trial are different from those in a criminal trial, but I don't understand how the accuser can expect to get much of a settlement.

Here's the apology Kobe was made to sign as part of the deal for the criminbal case being dropped.

Damn, dirty protesters: Now, I'm not one to say that the police aren't entitled to enforce order in NYC during the convention. Lord knows the cops there have reasons enough to be a touch jittery, but one method they're using caught my eye:

Donna Lieberman, director of the New York Civil Liberties Union, said police have unveiled three tactics this week that have raised concerns: quick deployment of orange netting to encircle protesters, undercover scooter patrols and widely used bicycle officers.

Now, again, I'm all for passive restraint of unruly muck-rakers, but doesn't this tactic seem to smack of something, oh, I dunno, slightly primitive?

Check, check.... is this mic on? It is? Good. Time (well, long past) to dust off the paperweight that is this keyboard and begin to see if I can find my voice again. I haven't been up to blogging for some time, for many reasons, but I've recently begun to realize that I miss the process. Mostly, I found that looked at the news and events in a totally different way when I wasn't trying to evaluate every news item for its post-worthiness, and it was very refreshing. When political conversation came up, I changed the subject and when I watched a movie I didn't try to write a review while I was still in the theater. Now, though, I think it's time to retract my head from the sand (and USA Today) and try to examine things again. There's a lot going on, including, I think, some political campaign (that Arnold fellow's got my vote) so I'll do my best to get up to speed. Time will be somewhat limited, still, but I think I can manage fairly regular posts, on topics ranging from music and movies to the campaign and social issues (always overdress when you're in doubt, I say).

And since I'm the most associate of associate bloggers, I guess I should ask, "Mr. Ovitz, how do you take your latte?"

Mr. Ovitz here: Razor is off finding the right thread-count for my Egyptian cotton finger cots, so that I can start reading this mail that is piling up. Razor keeps assuring me 300 thread count is sufficient - I ask him who he's kidding, and chop-chop with the eucalyptus tea.

Dunno who this Enobarbus fellow is. Sounds a bit mid-western to me, what with all the child-rearing and domestic issues. Don't think he'll be at the Vanity Fair party (reminds me, get Harvey some Cubans quick - that'll get a returned phone call).

This place is a real dump, but don't worry readers, I'm about to bring some major fucking value to the table. Heard of "Google", well this is going to make that look like "Boondoggle" (good one Ov, still got it). I got two calls into Bear Stearns; gonna give them major up-front strike level IPO shit.

Well, this keyboard is for crap (anyone ever hear of ergonomics?). Ovitz out.

Me Talk Pretty One Day: With strong apologies to David Sedaris, it seems our humble little blog was picked through a highly unscientific process, as one of the most "intelligent" blogs known to mankind.

More succinctly, and without pumping out yet another bromide concerning our turgid, draconian yet mellifluous nature, Monkeygrudge went about scanning both Typepad and Blogspot blogs for their use of a certain set of words which are found at Peter Schmies's Word Classification Test. In the Blogspot world, our humble piece of writing here tied for third. The fatuity of this exercise may seem pellucid, yet we at FauxPolitik take no exiguous degree of gratitude from this reverent praise.

Gmail: I have six Gmail invites if anyone is interested. Leave comment below with your email address, and I'll send one along, provided you can provide a haiku mocking Enobarbus.

Don't Start: I know, I know. But replace me with Mike Ovitz? No offense to our immigrant ancestors and the perils of Ellis Island, but the guy's name is a patronymic, minus the nymic. Besides, he'll never be able to compete with my wit, charm, and ability to predict major political movements with roughly 15% accuracy.

Watching a bit of the GOP convention. Reminded tonight that Liddy Dole embodies condescension the way Nixon did paranoia, or Clinton smarm. Every audience seems, from her tone, to be composed of third-graders. Slow ones.

So what have I been doing? Taking my son to beaches and parks. Cooking great dinners (tonight's featured home-made baba ghanoush). Trying to shoehorn in some deadlines. Not much, but it has been a life of distraction, to say the least. Spending all day with a three-year-old takes its toll on one's . . . you know, the thing with the thinking about stuff for longer than . . . um . . . attention span! That's the ticket.

This caught my eye today. Mister Prime Time is prepping to drag his aged body back on the gridiron for more beatings:

After three seasons away from the NFL, Deion Sanders signed with the Baltimore Ravens on Tuesday.

The seven-time Pro Bowl cornerback passed his physical and signed a one-year contract laden with incentives. He will practice with the team for the first time Wednesday, and expects to play in the Ravens' season opener Sept. 12 against the Cleveland Browns.

I always thought Deion was a hot-dog player who managed some clever picks downfield but was too often a no show in plain old coverage. I wouldn't have wanted to pay his salary at his peak. Now? I wouldn't give him league minimum.

Lesson For The Day: When drunk, and being driven home, should you feel the sudden need to puke...DO IT INSIDE THE CAR.

"On a mission from God": It's a funny phrase when Jake and Elwood say it, but it's less funny when Stephen Baldwin is saying it about why Bush should be re-elected. To be more accuarate, the actor-cum-Jesus-freak said: "I'm here to try to support faith-based politics. I'm going to vote for the guy who will truly be led by God."

Yes, yes...but whose god, Stephen, whose god? Cause, my god expresses His will by chucking glass coke bottles down from the sky onto my noggin. And the GOP convention has a roof over it so ...

Mr. Ovitz likes chocolate-pistachio-biscotti, not pecan: Wheeww, where to begin? Week 2 of our management re-vectoring (Mr. Ovitz's term) is underway and with Enobarbus still missing in action, ol' Razor has been running around trying not only to put up at least a few posts here and there, but keep the biscotti-maker (Mr. Ovitz assures me there is a tax benefit to it somewhere) running in an efficient, Six-Sigma manner. I saw the pistachio on sale, in bulk, at BJ's and figured, "Hey, Mr. Ovitz will appreciate my thriftiness." Well, as he likes to say: "That idea was somewhere on the spectrum between stupid and fucking stupid." But, he always smiles when he says this, so I know he's just busting, like colleagues do to one another occasionally.

Mr. Ovitz and I thought it would be good for me to spend just fifteen minutes or so today on posting and keep most of my focus on special ordering the Maybach with the platinum inlays, not the white gold. It's just that, well, that's another $15,000, and we've already spent our projected ten-year budget in the past two weeks, and ummm...well, it doesn't do to complain too loudly to Mr. Ovitz...he says the "whine tones" disrupt his chakras.

Still, I know that once we have all the necessary equipment in place, and the atmosphere to his liking, Mr. Ovitz will be ready to come into the office and get us that link to Instapundit he promised. Mr. Ovitz said he and Reynolds are "sympatico" as they both attend the Kabbalah Centre pretty regularly.

Ohh, there's the timer, it's important to get the biscotti before they get too "toothy". I'll post soon with some really cutting-edge stuff ... you're gonna love it.

Smooth as the mottled flesh on the underside of your grandmother's arm: And if you don't like that kind of metaphor, you're sure to hate these. Seriously though, it's the 2004 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, and it's funny, funny, funny. Project: come up with the most god-awful introductory sentence to a book. Try it at home!

"I've never seen a white man run that fast.": No, this wasn't said about me concerning my reaction to "The Munsters" being released on DVD, and being sold at Best Buy. Rather, it reflects the fact that a white guy won the 400m in Athens, leading the USA to a 1-2-3 sweep of the medals (and beating his two black teammates, as well as several other black racers, including the person behind this quote). Interesting.

To make things more interesting, a white girl won the 100m sprint on Saturday, beating all comers, who were all black.

Lithuania, Puerto Rico, Italy: all whooping our ass in basketball with white, Eastern Europeans, hispanics, and latin lovers, respectively.

People are already crowing about how these victories are "shattering stereotypes". I suppose they are, but do we really need the sub-text? This isn't new ground, but imagine articles being written about how amazing it was that a black guy won a Nobel Prize in chemistry. Picture the quote from some Russian scientist: "I've never seen a black boy distill a chemical so ingeniously."

Anyway, our USA basketball losses have nothing to do with race, and everything to do with a lazy contempt for practice and the team concept. Also, the fact that they can't hit the broad side of a barn beyond ten feet might be a contributing factor.

As for the white folk winning the sprints (and not just the usual middle distances, i.e. 1500 meters): there's no answer. More importantly, there doesn't need to be a question.

I assume this is how it went down:

Ass't. Curator: "Hey boss, you know that world-famous painting, "The Scream" that we have in our lobby?"

Curator: *sigh* "Yes, what of it man?"

A.C.: "Well, in curator school one of the first things they told us was to purchase this thing called ummm, theft insurance, for the collections, and especially for renowned pieces like this one. Also, you know, this one was stolen before."

C: "Yes, well, I'm sure they teach you all kinds of neat things at curator school, but I am off to the Lagerfeld Fall Collection show. Ta."

A.C.: "But,...but..." Slumps off into his closet-sized office.

Silly curator school.

Sea Change for North Korea?: Interesting letter from a recent visitor to N. Korea. His purpose was to deliver wheelchairs to the victims of the trainyard explosion that occurred some months back (and I complain when my grande mocha takes too long at S'Bucks - I suck).

While the author notes with an equal mix of surprise and joy over a relative boom of capitalism cropping up in the country, what I found most amusing was his description of the consequences of more money: more traffic.

-- We observed our first car accident in Pyongyang. Never thought I would see that, but a further sign of the amount of traffic on the road.

-- An interesting corollary concerns traffic safety. The Korean
Association for the Disabled is distributing a fold out brochure for adults and children that teaches basic traffic safety tips for both pedestrians & drivers. We noticed something interesting that I have not seen in other countries: about 50 m before a pedestrian cross walk (which itself features a familiar blue triangular sign) the Koreans have a red triangle that warns the driver of the coming pedestrian crosswalk. Very caring.

As we all know, and they shall soon learn, even prosperity has its costs.

I thought this died out in the 80s: Actually, I thought this died out with KISS (the original incarnation). But apparently, the concept of outlandish and ridiculous costumes for musicians is not over. Worse, these guys obviously take themselves seriously, while KISS was all about the fun of it all. Well, anyway, the link gives one man's opinion as to the top 10 worst black/death metal costumes ever. Very scary, but not for the reasons the bandmembers probably hoped.

Ovitz Update 1: Well, it's day 2 of operations under the skillful guidance of Mr. Ovitz. We didn't have any posting yesterday as Mr. Ovitz (he prefers a more formal moniker) and I had to hash out a variety of details, such as business cards, a full-scale media blitz announcing his arrival, and well, the umm, no more mentioning of the "Sensitive Matter"(which, due to its sensitive nature, I cannot elaborate, except to say it has something to do with follicles or the lack thereof - I've already said too much).

Today has been a bit slow as I've had to run a few errands, you know, just to get Mr. Ovitz acclimated and to let him focus on his job at hand. Dry cleaners, Starbucks (twice actually, see, "double soy does not mean one-and-a-half soy" - my mistake, totally), and some Chinese herbalist (see "Sensitive Matter" above). However, with those things out of the way, I'm totally committing the next three or four hours to...oh...ummm, okay, I have to run. Forgot about the car wash. Catch you all after lunch, for sure...

Why?:

* Why, when you call businesses and get their voicemail system, do they insist (still) on saying that "Your call is very important to us"? Isn't it kind of like "If you have to ask 'How much?' you can't afford it"? If you have to repeatedly tell your customer that their call is important, and you insist in doing it in an automated, bored, vanilla voice (with no hope extended of actually connecting you to someone), is it really that important? If your call were truly important, wouldn't you have a live person to answer the phones 24/7?

** Along those lines...Why do voicemail systems have to give you a litany of instructions after the voicemail message (i.e. "If you'd like to leave a message, stay on the line, otherwise hang up or press "0" for more options."). Don't we all kind of have it figured out by now? Beep, then talk. That's really it people.

*** Why is it so life-or-death important for countries to host the Olympics? I'm convinced it only matters to IOC and its host country counterparts, that get to share in the spoils (I mean, of course all the corruption has been taken out of the process, I'm just speculating here). Just look at Greece. The Olympicos have torn the hell out of the country, de-spoiling probably countless classic archaelogical sites forever, while spending billions of dollars on security for a bunch of games and the people who play them. The whole country was getting shellacked with criticism for not being ready, which only increased the frantic efforts of the government to further impose upon the lives of its citizenry so that they can essentially leave the country for a month while the hordes of foreigners invade to make a big mess, and then leave. I mean sure, a new subway system is nice and all, but who really thinks the Greeks will have the money to keep the thing operational afterwards? An apt analogy can be made with the GOP and Dems conventions, to be sure.

I need some answers here...

Beautiful: Really, really great photography of our world and the people and animals that inhabit it.

Link props to FAZED.

Masthead Change at FauxPolitik: Our loyal readers have no doubt noticed a paucity of posting of late. Our once earnest up-start, Flyer, has essentially ceased to exist (blogwise that is). Enobarbus, who last month spoke of a changing work environment and the need for a much-deserved "vacation" has apparently been unable to wrest himself from the Craps tables at Foxwood. Remember, the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem. Eno, I'm ready to listen, when you're ready to talk.

So, in an effort to shore up our operations, I've invited Michael Ovitz (former head of CAA [note the classic, understated elegance of its webpage], former No. 2 at Disney [note the classic, understated...ummm, well]) to take over the strategic vision of FauxPolitik, so I can focus more on quality and quantity of posting, bringing you the unique mix of politics and pop culture, that you've come to rely on.

When Michael first approached me about the job, I was taken aback. Did he really have the availability and more importantly, desire, to devote himself to the behind-the-scenes operations, while leaving the limelight to yours truly? But then, it seems, he has some time on his hands. And no fear of a gay mafia here, nipping at his heels, trying to thwart his much-deserved comeback - after all, Sullivan is on vacation.

But what about his lavish tastes? You've heard of his near-obsession with office re-decoration, hipster parties on the company dime, and personal jets. While FauxPolitik has a healthy ROI, it's due in large measure to my steady hand at cost control, keeping the investors happy without sacrificing quality. Could this marriage work, or was I being blinded by the bling?

Well, like in professional sports, it's about winning now. I knew that we could do fine and well plodding along in the middle tier of blogs, showing steady, if non-dazzling growth, but to make it to the Show, to the Big Time...in short to be like VodkaPundit, we needed Vision, and Vision, my friends, don't come cheap - and more importantly, I needed an invite to next year's Vanity Fair Oscar Party. Ovitz was my man.

We did a two-year deal, with renewals built in, stock options, Spago account, and AmEx Centurion Card. I.M. Pei was not available on short notice for the new headquarters, but we're taking bids.

It's an exciting time here at FauxPolitik, I hope you enjoy the ride. I'll provide exclusive "back room" updates from time-to-time, but for all the change, things will stay the same: Same insight, same humor, same love. Give it up for M-Ov!

Heroes and Killers: Ever start wondering about Dr. Mengele's professional training or his rank in the Waffen SS? Well, here's your site. Not quite sure whether Pol Pot killed one-third or one-quarter of his country's population? Again, you're in luck.

The site is called "More or Less" and it's dedicated to providing short, quirky bios of some of history's most dastardly villains, as well as our most inspiring heroes, such as Mandela, Walesa, and Dr. Albert Schweitzer.

No flash, no dazzle, just solid, brief biographies of people who have made a difference (for better or for worse) over the past century.

FauxPolitik: A magisterial tour-de-force, with a coruscating cracking pace...: Funny article on the language used by book editors and reviewers when distilling a book down to its essentials, so that the book can be instantly categorized and processed (i.e. chicklit, britfic, killerchiller, etc.).

Known as "reviewese", it's the industry shorthand for those who, ironically I suppose, don't have time to really read through something to come to an understanding of it. Sort of like giving a pitch on a movie you want to produce: "It's like Die Hard meets Moulin Rouge, with a touch of The Station Agent, you know?".

Anyway, you'll never read a book jacket the same way again.

Linkprops: A&L Daily - a darkly earnest, heady mix of penetrating insights, if there ever was one (see how much fun that is?).

Raise the terror warning to red!: Comes now one of the more alarming, and at the same time, pathetic, examples of what our Dept. of Homeland Security is capable of.

Seems the cover of a book that a person was carrying in his backpack was a bit too much for the security peon - see, it was a comic book (okay, a graphic novel, but I'm trying to make a point here). And it wasn't say, "Super Osama and his Band of Merry Car-Bombers", but rather a certain well-developed massive sword-brandishing chick with bad intentions on her mind.

My response: "Well, let me call the ACLU and have them come down here, and see what they think about your attempt to confiscate a book that was not in the plain sight of others due to your feeling it's not appropriate." And I pull out my cell and start scrolling down the list - ACLU-NJ is at the top, actually, before 'Amanda' and 'ardaniel' since it sorts alphabetically.

He gets all pissy at me and says, "Don't you understand this is for your safety?"

I suppose the fear was of too many teenage boys rushing to one side of the ferry to get a look.

God Save Me: I don't think I can suffer another mention of Barack Obama as long as I live. Here he is, folks, the Great Black Hope of the Democratic Party. He's obviously smart, good, looking, and adept at modulating his liberalism for white audiences, and he seems disinclined to take the route of Al Sharpton or Louie Farrakhan or the Jesses Jackson, as a rabble rouser, hustler, or pimp for the professionally disgruntled. Still, he's not Jesus, after all, despite what TNR's fawning coverage implies.

And this brings me back to a subject I broached around the time I predicted Kerry would pick Edwards and softsoap us all at the convention: Why is the party of blacks and women so white and so male at the top of the ticket? Friends, they don't come any whiter than John Edwards. Except for maybe John Kerry. Imagine either of them actually listening to Wyclef. It would no doubt bring back vivid memories of college-day rumbles with black townies. Oh, wait -- wrong generation. John and John were of the original gotta-have-black-friends generation, a sort of undergrad version of radical chic. (Think Howard Dean, asking for black roomies at Yale, then bragging about his connection to the negro world for the next thirty years.)

It's going to change, I'm sure. The Dems are already philosophically beholden to black voters. Any significant defection would set back the party for the next generation. But at some point the minority vote will start to ask, a little more loudly, "How come you never pick us?"

This is where Obama comes in. The Democrats would never think of saying it, but they really do think that, so far, all the national figure blacks in the party couldn't be trusted with the keys to the 'vette. In Obama, they may have seen someone they can feel comfortable with.

But, by the time he's ready to run, will they have hyped him to death? Made us all sick of him?

Accessory to a crime? Get a makeover. I think our society is really just fundamentally flawed. No, not because we're obese, or drunk, or gay, or even addicted to carbs. It's because we all are absolutely sure we're deserving of celebrity, and that any misfortune, no matter how grave, is an appropriate launching point.

One of the latest is certainly the Scott Peterson trial, and the mistress-du-jour, Amber Frey. Some may remember when she was first outed when the case was relatively new. She was wan, with a bad dye job, and just well, normal. Now? She's got the $300 cut, dye and style job, the sleek black pantsuit, and handlers to drive her, escort her, and speak for her. WTF?! She's just someone who went on a few dates with the guy then started taping her phone calls once she learned he was married. She's an accidental tourist in the cable news cycle, yet she feels the need to evidently hire an image consultant so she doesn't look like white trash.

Some more fun examples: Paula Jones, before....then after.

Linda Tripp, before and after.

The best part is that once they're in the limelight, they can't possibly let go. They NEED the attention...more, they DESERVE it. Because, because...they happen to have been groped by someone, or they were friends with someone, or because the roulette wheel of life stopped on their number for all the wrong reasons, and not only are they not shying away from what should be abject embarassment, they're running headlong into the maelstrom. Of course, they'll ACT as if the media are a great intrusion on their otherwise happening life, but still, they'll deign to speak with you and 20 other talkshows - no outlet too small.

So, once you're known, you have to capitalize, right? Wouldn't want to let yourself whither away back into 9-to-5 trivialities like working and taking care of your children. Kato Kaelin would not approve.

Don't say we didn't warn you:: The aliens are coming, and you better get ready (and just so you know, they're coming in a 28-mile wide spaceship, powered by nuclear fusion, so it glows from within).

Or maybe the aliens have already been here, and we're all irretrievably marked by them, presumably for easy pickings when they come back.

Of course, this assumes we last that long. You know, with the giant tidal wave and everything.

That is assuming we don't all kill eachother over our near-empty oil reserves. We're talking Planet of the Apes time.

Fear not, however, because the government is monitoring all of our thoughts, and will be able to stop us and/or kill us before we do anything rash.

There...don't you feel better?

Our back-up name was "Scratchy Pants": Ever wonder how certain companies got their names? Well, neither did we. Anyway, some people do, and for those people, they have a website.

Learn why a computer company is named "Apple"; why a copier company is named "Canon", and why "Novell" was purely an accident. This is edge-of-seat stuff, people!

What am I missing?: The plots that were revealed on Sunday, with a dour Ridge explaining the necessity to NOW raise the terror threat and NOW disclose the details of intelligence that we've had, at least in substantial part, since 2000 or 2001. The best the gov't. can say is that some of the recon on possible targets was performed by Al Qaeda as recently as January of this year.

Nothing has been said that the intelligence showed that the attacks were likely to occur in July or August. Nothing has been shown to evidence that the terror warning now is more helpful than in February or May.

To W's credit, he didn't have this broadcast during the Democrat Convention, but maybe this was done as a ramp-up to the Republican Convention in NYC in a month's time.

You know, I hate the conspiracy theorists who say that "Bush Lied" and that Halliburton is running the country, but when you see things like this, and the apparent lack of a satisfactory explanation, you have to lose faith.