Arnold Wants to do Some Heavy Lifting

According to All Headline News
(AHN), California is "going beyond the traditional methods taken by states to minimize the effects of climate change...." Man, you've gotta be kidding me. Only in California would someone come up with an idea as whacked as this one.

"Among the extra measures being pushed by California Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger are (sic) a proposal from the state Transportation Department to move a 3-mile stretch of Highway 1 in Big Sur, which hugs the ocean, up to 475 feet inland to be ahead of the tidal rise...." (italics added)

One challenge facing the state, though, is the availability of funds. Damn, just saved the neighborhood.

Short Story Long (but it's a good one)

I thought I would change the subject for a moment and explain a little bit about my other life; the virtual one, the one which takes up so much of my time in this life. Yes, I live parallel lives, and in some ways my virtual life is...... well, taking on a life of its own.

The other half of me is a guy named Chrome Underwood; yeah, that's him in the photo above. He lives a very exciting life, actually; a Second Life if you will, as a thirty-something artist with a growing art career. He has actually begun to become quite famous, developing what I believe is referred to in RL as "a lot of buzz."

It all began in August of this year, when I was invited to speak at a high-tech conference in Los Angeles, on the subject of art in virtual worlds. I spent three months wandering Second Life (SL) in search of my elusive subject, and when I finally stood at the podium to speak, it didn't take long for me to realize that I had unwittingly touched a raw nerve in the virtual world industry, and the ensuing fallout would change both my lives. (You can read about it here.)

As a result, the art world in SL (and believe me, there is a major constellation of prestigious art talent in there) began to take notice of me - well, actually, of Chrome. Up until that moment, he was a relative unknown. One of the more important figures in the SL art world who contacted me after my appearance at the conference posed a question that no one else had thought to ask: given that you were originally asked to speak because you are an artist, just what kind of art is it that you do?

An interesting question, actually, because I had been a digital artist in real life - perhaps one of the first - for over fifteen years. I stopped beating on gallery doors in L.A. by 2003/2004 because no one wanted to even hear the word 'digital', let alone display anything like it in their gallery. So, I put my work away and began writing. This blog site was one of the results of that career change.

In response to that question, though, I sent her a link to my flickr gallery, and from that moment on, Chrome was off and running. She showed the work to the owner of the best gallery in SL, he contacted me and offered me a show the following month. Chrome smiled and signed the contract. His career was launched.

Three days after the opening event, I received a text message from an SL resident who also happened to be an architect in Germany in real life (RL). He asked me to meet him at the gallery, so I teleported in (yeah, I know; it's crazy) and after discussing my work for a few minutes, he asked me if I would be interested in exhibiting my work at the Austrian Embassy in Berlin.

Naturally, I assumed he was talking about Second Life; but when I asked him to be more specific, he said he meant Berlin, Germany - you know, the one in Real Life. Stunned, I said, yes, yes, of course. Berlin. Germany. Real Life. This February. Of course. Delighted. Thank you.



The story, of course, continues. There have been many other 'crossover' events since then that I could tell you about, but I billed this primarily as a short story, so I'll try to keep it that way. The only thing I might add which will make this story more meaningful, perhaps, is that Chrome actually is the 'embodiment' of me when I was thirty years old and had just left New York, tail between my legs, after failing to make it as an artist.

I have now been reborn in a virtual world to resume my career in another form, and have managed to find a home in a place even more exciting and rewarding than New York. It is a world where genius communes rather than competes, where the role of technology in the development of the human mind and soul is not only understood and appreciated, but championed. It is a place where I may actually wind up having the last laugh on the art world. I mean, the art world that still thinks it's the real one.

Photos, from the top: Chrome Underwood on virtual campus of Santa Barbara City College in Second Life; Origami, one of the digital works now on display at the Newggenheim Museum in SL.

To read more about Chrome's adventures in Second Life, go to:

mikimojo.com
chromeneversleeps.com

Night of the Living Obama Supporters

Antonio Gramsci and the Slo-Mo Revolution

From wikipedia:
"Cultural hegemony is a concept coined by Marxist philosopher Antonio Gramsci. It means that a diverse culture can be ruled or dominated by one group or class through common sense, that everyday practices and shared beliefs provide the foundation for complex systems of domination.

The analysis of hegemony (or "rule") was formulated by Antonio Gramsci to explain why predicted communist revolutions had not occurred where they were most expected, in industrialized Europe. Marx and his followers had advanced the theory that the rise of industrial capitalism would create a huge working class and cyclical economic recessions. These recessions and other contradictions of capitalism would lead the overwhelming masses of people, the workers, to develop organizations for self-defense, including labor unions and political parties. Further recessions and contradictions would then spark the working class to overthrow capitalism in a revolution, restructure the economic, political, and social institutions on rational socialist models, and begin the transition towards an eventual communist society. In Marxian terms, the dialectically changing economic base of society would determine the cultural and political superstructure. Although Marx and Engels had famously predicted this eschatological scenario in 1848, many decades later the workers of the industrialized core still had not carried out the mission.

Gramsci argued that the failure of the workers to make an anti-capitalist revolution was due to the successful capture of the workers' ideology, self-understanding, and organizations by the hegemonic (ruling) culture. In other words, the perspective of the ruling class had been absorbed by the masses of workers. In advanced capitalist societies hegemonic cultural innovations such as compulsory schooling, mass media, and popular culture had indoctrinated workers to a false consciousness. Instead of working towards a revolution that would truly serve their collective needs, workers in "advanced" societies were listening to the rhetoric of nationalist leaders, seeking consumer opportunities and middle-class status, embracing an individualist ethos of success through competition, and/or accepting the guidance of bourgeois religious leaders.

Gramsci therefore argued for a strategic distinction between a "war of position" and a "war of manoeuvre". The war of position is a culture war in which anti-capitalist elements seek to gain a dominant voice in mass media, mass organizations, and educational institutions to heighten class consciousness, teach revolutionary analysis and theory, and inspire revolutionary organization. (italics added) Following the success of the war of position, communist leaders would be empowered to begin the war of manoeuvre, the actual insurrection against capitalism, with mass support."

He Hath Chosen to Dwell Amongst Us

Now we move forward with the avatar of the new, President-elect Barack Hussein Obama while we hopefully hang on to the best of the old.
- William Bradley, The Huffington Post, November 7, 2008

From wikipedia: Avatar or Avatara... (a) Sanskrit word avatāra (which) literally means "descent" (avatarati) and usually implies a deliberate descent from higher spiritual realms to lower realms of existence for special purposes. Descents that are of importance are mainly that of the Supreme Being which are plenary and marked with superhuman qualities. Other types of descents are limited expansions of Ishvara, and some that are descents of lesser empowered divinities.

We'll let the liberals sort all this out.

Don't Know Much About the Anointed One

Strange, isn't it, that our nation's finest "journalists" had over two years to learn who this man is, and yet they failed to do so. Why? Hmmm...

Change You Can Be Sold On

Source: Advertising Age, November 5, 2008

Barack Obama has been named Advertising Age's 2008 Marketer of the Year for the simplicity, consistency and relevance of his campaign.

Hundreds of marketers, agency heads and marketing-services vendors attending the 2008 annual Association of National Advertisers conference voted for Obama's campaign over ad campaigns by major companies like Apple, Zappos, Nike and Coors. AdAge called Obama's historic November 4 win the "biggest day in the history of marketing," saying marketers have a lot to learn from his campaign.

At a time when 70% of the population thought the country was headed in the wrong direction, Obama adopted a simple slogan of "Change" that never varied throughout his campaign, while his competitors tried for months to find similarly simple yet powerful messages.

Hillary Clinton first tried the slogan "Experience," then shifted to "Countdown to change," and then used "Solutions for America," while the McCain campaign tried on a long list of labels like "Maverick," "Straight Talker," "Conservative" and "Hero." By the time the McCain campaign settled on "Country First," it was too late.

The relentless focus on "change" pressured Mr. Obama's opponents to talk about how their changes would differ from his, rather than focus on their strengths, like their experience, track records and relationships with world leaders.

As a filthy capitalist pig who believes firmly in open, healthy competition, I would normally agree with the conclusions expressed here. After all, the guy won, he did have a brilliant campaign, and his brand now dominates the market. But there are other factors which haven't been mentioned in the article.

For instance, the playing field was tipped about 90 degrees in Obama's favor by the journalistic malpractice of the mainstream media. Not only were the number of "news" articles and the tone of the coverage vastly in his favor, but the entire media culture jumped into the fray.

Not just your typically liberal correspondents, either, like Katie Couric, Charles Gibson, Chris Matthews and Bill Moyers; but many in the entertainment field as well; David Letterman, Jon Stewart, Bill Maher, Stephen Colbert; daily shows like The View, Oprah, and others, all shouted their love for Obama and their hatred of Sarah Palin from the rooftops. You can't buy the kind of coverage he got day in, day out - for free.

Giving him this award is a little like giving the Wimbledon cup to Serena and Venus Williams after playing doubles against Dinara Safina. Yeah, they kicked her ass, but.......

Consorting with the Enemy

Joe Lieberman is about to learn the price of disloyalty in the coming Obama Era.... read about it in The New York Times.

The Duplicity of Hope: Down to Brass Tax

OK. OK. I tried. I honestly had every intention of shutting up for a while once Obama completed his Long March, but...... what... the hell... was I thinking? As I said in a comment on my last post, I suddenly realized I would go nuts watching this happen to my country while in a state of voluntary virtual exile. I'd rather go down screaming.

Essentially, events of the past day or so have made it impossible for me to keep my mouth shut. The selection, for instance, of Rahm Emanuel, a partisan pit bull extraordinaire - a man referred to by Paul Begala as being somewhere between "a hemorrhoid and a toothache," as new White House Chief of Staff.

Obama picks Clinton alum Emanuel chief of WH staff

Many, including some on the right, have expressed hopes that the charismatic president-elect would turn out to be a centrist once he was in office. A year of magical thinking, methinks. The hard truth is that he is a child of the radical left, has never veered from those beliefs (except when it was politically convenient), and will soon hold the most powerful position on the planet. If you're a conservative in this country, you'd better get out your flak jacket.

A New President is Elected, A New Era Begins

Barack Obama has won the presidency of the United States in what we all, for one moment, must agree is a shining moment in the history of our nation. Despite the fact that he remains a blank slate at best, he is the first African-American to win the office, represents a fundamental change in the political landscape and, apparently, hope for millions.

Now, we must all pull together to meet the difficult challenges ahead. We Republicans have had our turn at the helm and, to be honest, I feel we have left much to be desired. Barack Obama has now been chosen by the American people to fulfill those desires. In the best spirit of American goodwill, I congratulate him and wish him well.

This is also the end of an era. After posting for over three years here on Dancing In Tongues, this will be my final entry, though not the end of my blogging career. I have a few other sites where I continue to write about the exciting world of virtual technology and the future of art. If you care to follow that part of my life, please come over and visit me at the sites listed below.

It's been a great run, a lot of fun, and I thank you all for sharing your thoughts and feelings with me over the years. The rough and tumble nature of this debate has sharpened my mind and my writing skills, and with a suitcase full of memories, I'm off to my new adventures.

http://mikimojo.com
http://chromeneversleeps.com

Dancing With the Stars

Obamanation (Don't Say I Didn't Warn You)

When you finish watching this one, indulge yourself in the television interview with Joe Biden, below, in which a journalist actually has the temerity to ask tough questions about Obama's policies. Enjoy it; it will be the first and last time you'll see anything like it during the entire two year campaign. The television station, by the way, has since been blackballed by the Obama campaign. Welcome to your Stalinist future.

The Story of O

Photoshoplifting by Mick Brady

The Climate is Ripe for Fascism

If you saw the video of the Children of the Damned singing praises to the Lord Merciful Obama and weren't sickened and frightened by the sight, then watch this one and then tell me that you can't see that there is something twisted at the heart of Obamamania. The truth is that his powerful effect on many people in this country (and around the world, apparently) is purely emotional, and we should know from history where that can lead us. Wake up, people, we're about to slip into the abyss.

Author's note, 6:08pm: the video I put up this morning was removed by early aftenoon; after another search on youtube, I found another copy. The Obama apparatchiks DO NOT want you to see this.

Writing in Tongues

Sometimes the oddest things happen and you get a vague sense that you may have just brushed up against something much, much bigger than your ordinary, everyday experiences. Some might say it is the divine order of things, others that there is a a universal mind and that at certain moments, our individual minds coalesce around a particular idea, others that we are approaching The Singularity. Whatever you wish to call it, one of those moments occurred to me the other day. Make of it what you will.

By Wednesday night, for some reason, the flood of depressing financial news pouring out of Washington had knocked me down. Hard to believe, I know, but it felt for a few hours like the end of the world as we knew it, and it didn't feel fine. My response, strangely enough, was to write a song. Strange, because I had never written a song before in my life. I called it Shit Storm Blues, later softened it to Stormy Weather Blues.

The strangeness deepens. The following day I received an email from my blog buddy, Jeremayakovka, containing the following line:

If you can think of lyrics to "BadLOANS" (recent post), have at it!

Utterly amazed, I headed over to his site and found a Bruce Springsteen video, and beneath it were J's lyrics to BadLOANS, a song he had written in response to the economic mess we were in. So, in that same Spirit, I give you my own response to our rapid slide into socialism. Stormy Weather Blues, sung to the tune of Meet Me in the Morning, by Bob Dylan, from the album, appropriately enough, called Blood on the Tracks.

Couldn't find a decent version of a Dylan performance of this tune, but this one from Texas Diesel will do just fine....



There's a big old storm a-comin', mama
No one knows just where or when.
There's a big old storm a-comin',
No one knows just where or when.
When you hear that wind a-howlin', babe
You'd better grab your fountain pen.

Keep one eye on the tornado
And the other one on your hat.
Keep one eye on the tornado, baby,
And the other one on your hat.
By the time they get back together,
You'd better be in your Cadillac.

Put your feet in a cooler, honey;
When your baby don't come home.
Put both feet in a cooler, honey;
When your baby don't come home.
Get your heart and your head together
So they won't be all alone.

You wait a long time for nothin',
Then you wish you could go back.
You wait a long, long time for nothin',
Then you wish you could go back.
If I had it all to do over, man,
I'd-a been Jack Kerouac.

There's a big old storm a-comin'
No one knows just where or when.
There's a big old storm a-comin'
No one knows just where or when.
When you hear that wind a-howlin', mama
You'd better grab your fountain pen.

The Sliming of Sarah Palin

You know, my wife and I often talk politics at the breakfast table these days, and since I happened to wake up before her this morning, I had already been wandering in cyberspace for an hour or so when she hit the button on the coffee maker. What I had seen in my travels was not pretty; in fact, I felt like I had just been mud-wrestling with Michael Moore. Perhaps it was better that I hadn't yet had my first cup of coffee.

I'll tell you about those travels in a minute; but first, to put it all in context, I wish to state some bare-boned facts about Sarah Palin; some undeniable truths about her, the facts unadorned, shorn of their political patina, facts which seem to have gotten lost in the grifter's shuffle.

First, it is clear to any fair-minded observer that she is a strong woman. It is also clear that she has a strong moral character; that she is devoted to her family, to Alaska, and to her country. It is clear that she is gutsy, even fearless, and willing to stand up for what is right. It is clear that she is educated, smart as a whip, and politically gifted. She is a woman who, like Teddy Roosevelt, made it to the top by fighting corruption in government. Those are the facts.

In a sane world, she would be the feminist dream-come-true; but this is not a sane world. If you need further proof of that, consider the fact that she has actually become the liberal establishment's biggest nightmare, even to ardent feminists. You see, liberal fundamentalism only has room for the true believer, the Kool-Aid drinker, the hardcore liberal woman. And no gun-totin', snowmobile-ridin', moose-huntin', home schoolin', K-Mart shoppin', baby poppin' hayseed is gonna stop the celestial coronation of Barack Apollo Obama. Ain't gonna happen.

So, back to my travels in cyberspace. I stumbled upon a site called Wonkette, sort of a breezy, gossipy, Washington DC version of the Daily Kos, and although I would normally only visit one of these places fully suited in a HazMat outfit, I wasn't fully awake, and didn't realize at first what the damn thing was. It was a lib slice and dice machine, a chop shop; and Sarah was on the block everywhere I looked. I give you but one example:

Sarah Palin and the Softer Side of the Death Star

Oh look what Alaskan numbskull Sarah Palin is wearing now: It’s an Imperial death smock, just like what’s his name, Peter Cushing, wore in the fascist movie Star Wars. Tomorrow, inevitably, she will wear a bear suit. (a random sample of comments follows; there were hundreds)

1. Well, what else should we expect a fascist cunt to wear?
2. Her endless jaw alone will destroy the world.
3. Have you ever met a conservative who didn’t get a plumpy seeing chicks in Nazi garb? She’s just giving the base some masterbatorium fodder.
4. I’ve never understood why people with full access to anything they want would STILL choose to dress like they shop at Burlington Coat Factory. It’s almost like the Republican Party got a hold of a truckload of clearance items destined for Goodwill, and bogarted that crap, too.
5. All Sarah needs is an Anti-Sex League red sash. Then she can go home and do her “duty to the party” by procreating more unfortunate infants with snowbilly moron and power-behind-the-throne hubby Todd “First Dood” Palin.
6. It’s the Dominatrix uniform for cold climates. I can totally see her with elbow-length leather gloves on while wearing this suit.
7. I guess since conservative women can’t show any skin, these are the consequences. Oh, and has anyone else noticed the similarities between John McCain’s skin and Bib Fortuna’s?
8. I’m sure she’s wearing a “Promise Ring” with that ensemble.
9. Governor Palin. I recognized her foul stench when she was brought onboard the campaign.
10. Sarah Palin’s going to blow everyone on the planet? Wait, what?

There ya go. That's what passes for political discourse on the left. Left me reelin' and feelin' I was back in Junior High. If you happen to feel, as I did, like taking a hot shower after that, consider visiting my old friend Jeremayakovka, who actually sat down and had a conversation the other day with a fellow who lived in Wassila, Alaska while Sarah Palin was first a member of the City Council and then Mayor. It's a good, sensible, honest and grown-up take on the woman. I'm sure you'll feel much better once you have a good, strong dose of sanity.

Added at 6:05pm: Have you caught a whiff of the hypocrisy here? More than any other aspect of their ideology, their claim to care more for "the little guy" is shown to be a complete sham here: they hate the little guy, wouldn't be caught dead with one, wouldn't know what to do if they ever met one, and this clearly demonstrates that they just use them as a prop to make themselves look so cool, so generous, so caring, so.. so kind. It's all so much... bullshit. Sorry.

Russia Building Space Center in Cuba

As a wave of Cold War nostalgia sweeps the steppes of Mother Russia, Vlad the Impaler has decided to invoke the hallowed memories of the Cuban Missile Crisis by building a new "space center" in Cuba, making the most of an opportunity provided by Hurricane Ike, which recently flattened most of the country, leaving plenty of space and lots of useless '59 Chevies in its wake.

Russian officials have said they want to renew Cuban ties that were neglected after the Soviet Union's collapse, and demonstrate to the world that they still have some clout in the Western Hemisphere while oil prices are still high. This may be short-lived, however, since the Russian stock market collapsed yesterday due to plummeting oil prices.

Just for laughs, read the full story at Reuters.

In photo above, Anatoly Perminov, Chief of Russia's space agency, gestures convincingly while describing progress on new Cuban Space Center to a visiting journalist from Pravda.

Photoshoplifting by Mick Brady

"Turn on your TV; the Trade Center is burning."

Exactly seven years ago today we, like so many Americans, learned of the attack through a phone call from a family member. Here in California, it was 5:46am when Flight 11 ripped through the South Tower.

We were awakened by one of those calls just before 6am, from a daughter back East; seconds later we stood staring at the television screen in shock, not yet even fully awake, as the second plane hit. Life would never be the same.

It took me a few minutes to take in the full impact of what I had just seen, the scope of the event was so huge, so overwhelming, so profound, so riveting, so traumatic.... that at first it didn't hit me that... wait a minute.... one of our daughters lives just a block or so away from those towers. She was only a matter of hundreds of feet from the point of impact.

I immediately grabbed my cell phone and called her number. Unbelievably, she picked up and began babbling, almost incoherently, into my ear. I could barely understand what she was saying. I told her to take a deep breath, to calm down and tell me whether she was ok, and to describe what her situation was.

She said that she, her roommate and some friends who had spent the night, were having breakfast when they heard the first explosion. Since her apartment was actually a loft space on the fourth floor of an old six-story industrial building on Ann Street, they all ran out onto the fire escape to see what had happened. When they saw the flames coming out of the South Tower, they ran up to the roof. They were standing there, looking almost straight up, when the second plane hit.

What she described next can hardly be understood in normal terms; in fact, it may be that only those who survive an event such as Pearl Harbor, or Hiroshima, or some other devastating event of that magnitude can actually grasp what it must have been like.

She spoke of being hit by the concussion of a blast, followed by a near ear-shattering noise, then caught in a sudden shower of unknown substances (which later turned out to be atomized glass, steel, office furniture, carpeting, human flesh, and what appeared to be confetti, but was actually the remnants of our economy) which was beganning to block out the sun. Fire and brimstone. The stuff of hell.

Terrified by the growing clouds of fire, smoke and falling debris, and not yet fully able to grasp what was actually happening around them, they all ran back downstairs and closed and locked the doors and windows. That was when I called.

Knowing she had asthma, I immediately became alarmed about the clouds of smoke and debris in the area. Can you make it out of there? I asked. No, she didn't think so, she said; there's just too much debris coming down. Then the line went dead. The cell phone network was overloaded; hundreds of thousands of people were trying to get through to loved ones in Manhattan.

By the time we were able to reconnect, the towers had fallen and real panic had set in. It was pitch black outside, she said, and there was no power. For all they knew, the nuclear holocaust had begun. I filled her in as quickly as possible about what was actually happening around her, and told her to seal the doors and windows as well as possible, because the air outside was likely to be toxic. Once again, we were cut off.

We spent the rest of the day glued to the tv between attempts to reach her. I managed to contact a friend of hers who lived in Brooklyn and stayed in touch with him whenever I could, hoping he would have a better chance to reach her. He didn't. Then, late that evening, she got through to me and said the National Guard was going to lead them out of the area, but she had no idea where she was going from there.

While she was on the line, I called her friend by land line and asked if he could meet her at the Brooklyn Bridge and take her to his apartment. He agreed, and I gave her word of the arrangement. The call ended again in mid-sentence, and I didn't hear from her again until the following day. She was still very emotional, but she was basically OK. She was still alive.

We have never really spoken much about that day. I sensed that it had a tremendous impact on her, emotionally, and I think that in many ways she has been grappling with what she saw, heard and felt ever since. It has not been easy. The only time she ever mentioned it she said, Dad, you have no idea what I had to walk through, the things I saw, the things I had to step over, the night I left my apartment.

I never asked for details. I didn't want to know. I am still unable to remove the plastic wrap from the commemorative book of photographs of that event I later received as a gift from a friend. I still weep when I see footage of those planes slicing through the towers like a stick of butter. I weep for my daughter, I weep for those who didn't make it out alive, I weep for America.

Photo by Steve Baker

The Ballad Of Fannie May and Freddie Mac

Well, Fannie May and Freddie Mac,
They were the best of friends.
So when Fannie May needed money one day,
Freddie quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a footstool
Just above the plotted plain,
Sayin', "Take your pick, Fannie girl,
My loss will be your gain."

Well, Fannie May, she sat right down
And put her fingers to her chin,
But with the cold eyes of Freddie on her,
Her head began to spin.
"Would ya please not stare at me like that," she said,
"It's just my foolish pride,
But sometimes a girl must be alone
And this is no place to hide."

Well, Freddie, he just winked and said,
"All right, I'll leave you here,
But you'd better hurry up and choose
Which of those bills you want,
Before they all disappear."
"I'm gonna start my pickin' right now,
Just tell me where you'll be."

Freddie pointed down the road
And said, "Eternity!"
"Eternity?" said Fannie May,
With a voice as cold as ice.
"That's right," said Freddie Mac, "Eternity,
Though you might call it 'Paradise.'"

"I don't call it anything,"
Said Fannie May with a smile.
"All right," said Freddie Mac,
"I'll see you after a while."

Well, Fannie May, she sat back down,
Feelin' low and mean,
When just then a passing stranger
Burst upon the scene,
Saying, "Are you Fannie May, the gambler,
Whose father is on crack?
Well, if you are,
There's a fellow callin' you down the road
And they say his name is Mac."

"Oh, yes, he is my friend,"
Said Fannie May in fright,
"I do recall him very well,
In fact, he just left my sight."
"Yes, that's the one," said the stranger,
As quiet as a mouse,
"Well, my message is, he's down the road,
Stranded in a house."

Well, Fannie May, she panicked,
She dropped ev'rything and ran
Until she came up to the spot
Where Freddie Mac did stand.
"What kind of house is this," she said,
"Where I have come to roam?"
"It's not a house," said Freddie Mac,
"It's not a house . . . it's a home."

Well, Fannie May, she trembled,
She soon lost all control
Over ev'rything which she had made
While the mission bells did toll.
She just stood there staring
At that big house as bright as any sun,
With four and twenty windows
And a man's face in ev'ry one.

Well, up the stairs ran Fannie May
With a soulful, bounding leap,
And, foaming at the mouth,
She began to make her midnight creep.
For sixteen nights and days she raved,
But on the seventeenth she burst
Into the arms of Freddie Mac,
Which is where she died of thirst.

No one tried to say a thing
When they took her out in jest,
Except, of course, the little neighbor boy
Who carried her to rest.
And he just walked along, alone,
With his guilt so well concealed,
And muttered underneath his breath,
"Nothing is revealed."

Well, the moral of the story,
The moral of this song,
Is simply that one should never be
Where one does not belong.
So when you see your neighbor carryin' somethin',
Help him with his load,
And don't go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road.

Many thanks to Bob Dylan for writing the original, The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest. It can be found on his classic 1967 album, John Wesley Harding.

Lighten Up, Guys; It's my Birthday

"Go home and sin, and then come back and sing me something I can sell."
- Sam Phillips, head of Sun records, to a young Johnny Cash, who until that moment had been a gospel singer.

With those words, posted exactly three years ago today, Dancing In Tongues hit the airwaves. Since that auspicious day we've come a long way, baby, and I don't mean maybe.

I'd like to take this opportunity to say how grateful I am that I'm still at the keyboard, and still engaged in the debate over issues that matter so much to our country.

I'd also like to thank all the heavy hitters who have gotten into the ring with me over the past few years, and who have not only helped clarify my own views of the world, but honed my abilities to express them. Best of all, some have become good friends.

On the down side, one of those friends, my old buddy Winston, passed away several months ago. His words still ring loud and clear in the archives of DIT, though, and, believe it or not, still show up his blog site, Nobody Asked - even though they apparently emanate from an urn sitting on the end table in his living room.

Finally, I would like to thank Governor Sarah Palin for the incredible gift she gave to me and all my fellow conservatives last night, in what had to be one of the most electrifying and pivotal speeches in political history. I would also modestly point out that I not only supported her nomination, but predicted it in a recent post, thus outdoing most of the top political pundits.

I believe she'll help carry Senator McCain into the White House, and follow his two terms with two of her own. If she chooses Bobby Jindal, governor of Louisiana, as her future running mate, he may even follow with his own double header. If that were to happen, it would provide this country with an entire generation of conservative leadership, and may just save it from the evil forces of progressive liberalism. (c'mon, guys, lighten up; I'm only half-kidding.)

Finally, I'd like to wish my beautiful daughter, Annalee, a happy birthday. That first slice is for you, honey. :)

Virtual cake by BN Beverages and More, MaBoule Island (97, 14, 502), Second Life; Photo by Mick Brady

Meet the Parents

Republican Presidential nominee John McCain, seen openly and proudly greeting his besieged running mate's oldest daughter, Bristol, and her fiance Levi Johnston, a bonafide redneck hockey-star hunk, at a Minneapolis airport Wednesday.

Word has it that he even teared up when he greeted them; no doubt brought on by the severity of the attacks on them by the flame-throwing partisans in the MSM, who seem to take delight in feeding upon the flesh of conservatives these days.

Good work, John. Nice to see this level of human decency and moral character on display in a national politician for a change. Your bold choice of a real woman to help run this country, and your stalwart loyalty to her and her family in their time of crisis is heartening and refreshing.

And you did pick a real woman. After being given a very somber warning recently by a McCain aide about the nature of the storm she was about to endure as the new candidate for VP, Sarah Palin responded with a question:

What's the difference between a pitbull and a hockey mom?

I don't know, the aide responded.

Lipstick, she said.

That's the next Vice President speaking.

Photo from US Weekly, celebrity trash rag

OMG! It's Christmas in August!!!

I rarely blow my own horn, but this time I'm channeling Charlie Parker. Bear with me, though; I'm having a hard time keeping myself from bouncing off the living room ceiling as I run this riff - even had to put my heaviest work boots on, and I'm still in my pajamas (we live in California, you see, and the world's clock seems to be set in New York; or, in this case, Ohio).

If you go back almost exactly 24 hours to my previous blog, you'll see that I not only suggested that Sarah Palin should be McCain's choice for VP and provided a description of her accomplishments to back up my argument; but I went even further: I predicted that he would pick her as his running mate. High five, baby; high five.

There will be lots and lots of media coverage of this amazing woman and what she will do for the Republican ticket in the coming days and weeks, so I'll shut up for now. I just want to add one more prediction before I close, though: there will be a Republican landslide in November.

Ok, Gotta run. Gotta go meet this Sarah Palin babe. Can you say, 'hockey mom'?

My Choice for Republican Veep

After wandering through the darkness of the Democrat convention for the past several days, I'm now beginning to see the light. There, just ahead, beyond the fawning media celebrities, the political jujitsu tag team match, the used-car salesmen's pitch, the global warming huckster's John-the-Baptist gig, and finally, the I-Wanna-Have-A-Dream-at-Nuremberg speech.... there is a faint glimmer in the distance.

Not only will this circus be leaving town over the weekend, but a new event - one actually based on reality - will begin on Monday: the Republican national convention lifts off in the Twin Cities. This one, though, as you will soon see, will be much simpler and much, much classier. Republicans, after all, are not nominating a messiah.

Now, word has it that McCain is about to name his VP selection; so, while there's still time, then, I'm going to launch a pre-emptive suggestion; you might even call it a prediction. I think he could do no better than to name the brilliant (and hot!) Governor of Alaska, Sarah Palin, as his running-mate.





















From her bio page at the Governor's official website:

Under her leadership, Alaska invested $5 billion in state savings, overhauled education funding, and implemented the Senior Benefits Program that provides support for low-income older Alaskans. She created Alaska’s Petroleum Systems Integrity Office to provide oversight and maintenance of oil and gas equipment, facilities and infrastructure, and the Climate Change Sub-cabinet to prepare a climate change strategy for Alaska.

During her first legislative session, Governor Palin’s administration passed two major pieces of legislation – an overhaul of the state’s ethics laws and a competitive process to construct a gas pipeline.

Finally, as sexist as it may sound, I'd much rather see Sarah Palin's lovely visage on the evening news for the next four to eight years than, say, Joe Biden's hair plugs. Plus, we get a president who can deal with the bad guys thrown into the mix. A no-brainer, guys.

Images, from the top: from the front page of today's New York Post; and the official portrait of Governor Palin by Jeff Schultz of Anchorage, AK

Chrome for President

As we crawl toward the finish line known as Election Day, many people are still very dissatisfied with the caliber of the candidates, and feel somewhat alienated from the entire electoral process. Believe me, there are a lot of disgruntled folks out there. Hillary fans have been dissed, Obama disciples are beginning to lose faith, and McCainiacs are, well, mostly on the straight talk express out of sheer necessity.

So, in order to address this growing problem and to help prevent our great nation from sinking any further into the morass, I've decided to throw my avatar's hat into the ring. Starting today, Chrome Underwood is a candidate for the highest office in the land, President of the United States.