Yeah. Scroll down to the Wednesday the 19th entry on this page. Read it. Now read this story.

It's both eerie and incredibly frustrating when the Other Side takes the words right out of your mouth and says, "Okay, that sounds like a good idea." At least we know that they're working on a real long-term solution now. It'll be interesting to stick around and see what kind of treatment American oil companies get when our military government starts the pumps in Iraq.

And when I rule the world, I will have a new button installed on everyone's remote control that will mute the shitty background music that television producers insist on pumping into what are supposed to be narratives. I would like ABC's "Profiles from the Front Line" if it didn't have so much gawd-awful fake symphonic noise. Do these people think that the story itself isn't riveting enough? I could barely hear the Flight Deck chief on the Kennedy for the synthetic blabbering of dramatic instruments. I always end up feeling frustrated and manipulated, and I don't think that's what they were shooting for.

Drowning in a sea of idiocy. That has nothing to do with anything, but I like the little rhyme there.

The recruiting officer at the U. of A's NROTC unit said, perhaps not in these exact words, "Fill out the paperwork and you're in." So it's basically no longer a dream; as long as I can meet the physical requirements, I'm on my way to becoming an officer in the United States Navy. I'm not just saying that that's what I want to do, I'm really doing it. That feels immensly satisfying, like the Lego block of my life is sliding into the big picture in exactly the right place. 98% of the people that I meet have no idea what they're supposed to be doing here on Earth, grownups included, so I guess I'd better be damn grateful and make the most of it.

I would like to formally announce the beginning of The Battle for the American Dream by quoting a passage (Copyright 2003 by Gonzo International Corp.) from Kingdom of Fear:

"We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world - a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and that is how history will judge us.... No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we'll kill you.

Well, shit on that dumbness. George W. Bush does not speak for me or my son or my mother or my friends or the people I respect in this world. We didn't vote for these cheap, greedy little killers who speak for America today - and we will not vote for them again in 2002. Or 2004. Or ever.

Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush? They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill gooks. They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are the racists and hate mongers among us - they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis.

Damn them all. Trying to win at their own game would be stupid and foolish for almost any of us to attempt, but I will use my vote and my voice to do everything within my power to unravel this hideous reality. The greatest Test my generation faces is getting rid of these pigs. We have two years starting now.

Hm. Received word from another friend Back Home that she and this Citizen Soldier are truly diggin' each other. Problem is, said soldier has been deployed for Desert Storm II, with all the fear and uncertainty that instills in those who are left behind to watch. What a feeling of helpless rage, to know that the fate of the one you love is being traded precisely like a pawn by our goofy Child-President in the biggest chess game there is.

And tonight Aisling comes home to learn how to live a normal, happy life. Today was almost forcefully non-eventful, and I can't decide whether I should enjoy it now or start dreading what could come.

Wait, that's stupid. There are two basic ideas that I conduct my life by, the first and simplist being the Golden Rule. 'Yall should know that one by heart. The second I actually heard verbalized in Seven Years in Tibet wherein Brad Pitt is advised, "If there is something you can do, do it and stop worrying. If there is nothing you can do, there is no point in worrying." There is precious little that I can do to shape tomorrow beyond my own physical confines, so just let it ride, baby, and take the swells and dips as they crash over the bow.

Ahh. That's better.

In case all this wet weather we're having should cause the waterways to flood, and thus cast the Submarine from it's moorings, I've been semi-deputized to evacuate any visitors and close the ship. Not that this fact is particularly interesting in any way, but heck, why not mention it? Indeed, there are few things that would amuse me more than watching our beautiful ship float away from the shore, even if it meant that I would be out of work for a while. Everyone who works here has dreams about this very scenario, and most of the time they end poorly.

Sigh. A man can dream, can't he? Yes, he can.

Let it be clearly understood that life does indeed consist at least partly of immense suckage. However, the sight of "President" Bush, digitally reconfigured by the enemy to look like a Ferengi and used as a graphic on Iraqi television, should at least give us hope that whatever entity is running the show, be it God or Bob or simple Chaos, it does like to brighten things up occasionally.

Of course, the Evil Fate Lemur sabotaged Tak's personal espresso maker so that an in-class demonstration on How To Make A Proper Latte turned into a vaguely embarassing ramble about how you should never center your entire speech around one particular mechanical device, especially one with a history of misbehaviour.

What impresses me is that that was all one sentence. I know I've written a longer one somewhere, but I'd have to dig through the archives, and right now all I want to do is collapse with "Paranoid Android" skimming through my semi-conscious brain.

Hmmm, last update was delayed by inexplicable, well, delays on the part of Pyra. Of course, having been purchased by the now omnipresent Google, I suppose a few things were bound to be fsked up.

"Size of protest - it's like deciding, well, I'm going to decide policy based upon a focus group. The role of a leader is to decide policy based upon the security, in this case, the security of the people."

"Yesterday, Bush referred scornfully to giving Saddam 'another, 'nother, 'nother last chance' to comply with prior U.N. resolutions demanding that Iraq disarm." - The New York Times

Thank you, Mr. Bush, for clearing that up. Those lines should speak for themselves. What is most irritating about this entire debate is that both sides - the peacenicks and the warmongers - are ignoring history. We'd better start getting used to the word occupation, because that's what this will be. To be brutally honest, Afghanistan wasn't really a country the way we think of them, so our "war" against the Taliban was more of a police action than a state-vs-state slugfest. But with Iraq, we're talking about waging a real war against a soverign nation with the intention of rebuilding their infrastructure and introducing a new system of government. The only previous examples we have of this that are really applicable are Germany and Japan. Following WWII, the U.S. and allies proceeded to invest an incredible amount of time and money into creating democracy where various forms of dictatorship had once existed. And now look at them! Two of the most powerful industrial economies in the world, shining examples of freedom and democratic governance, our investment has paid off one thousand fold in wealth and in humanity.

Our war will no doubt increase the risk of terrorism in the short term. But in the long term, which only economists and liberal wonks seem to be interested in, a free and democratic Iraq will prove that governments that work through fear and religious opression are what have been keeping the Arab world from joining the 21st century. Germany and Japan prove that it can be done, but what scares me is that no one in the current Administration seems to have even begun to formulate a Marshall Plan for the middle east, a definite blueprint for what comes after the bombs are done falling. American occupation does not have to be a disaster.

What'd be really neat is if the Opposition were to draft just such a document. Then it could be subject to rigorous public scrutiny and debate, and if a final version were to be approved by Congress and presented to the U.N., it would go an awful long way towards assuring our allies that we really do mean well.

Hoo-freakin-ray. Now all the Opposition needs to do is, well, oppose Bush. But having fifteen hundred candidates for the Presidency in 2004 will not help, gentlemen. May the best man or woman win, and all that jazz, but let's stop screwing around here and get down to some serious politicking. (Wow, never thought I'd say that.) I want issues! I want legislation! I want debate! I want pie!

Happy News Bulletin: My friend Wonko the Sane is being wed to his longtime squeeze this coming midsummer. Joy to you and your next thouand kin, dear lad.

O thoughtless thoughts, leave my weary mind and torture some other plodding soul...

Yesterday the Battle for the American Dream was joined by millions of people in dozens of major cities all over the world. Protesting against the impending war, the great, not-so-silent majority lent their much-needed weight to the anti-war movement here at home. AND there was a story in the paper about how top GOP leaders are starting to get fed up with the Bush White House's lack of leadership. But wasn't leadership the only real thing this (to borrow the words of Thompson) goofy child-President had going for him? His influence beyond the cabal of politicos that surround him 1,440 minutes a day seems to be on the wane, his plan for Iraq and the rest of the middle east is unraveling, and more and more people every day are finding the moral courage to move beyond their unthinking patriotic reverence.

On a happier note, a nice fat snowstorm waddled up to the northeastern U.S.A. and is currently squeezing out between one and two feet of magical white powder, turning highways into hilarious Slip-N-Slides™ full of terrified SUV owners. They know in their black hearts that these are precisely the kind of conditions that their vaunted 4-wheel Traction Lock ABS computer-enhanced handling packages are for, yet they cower in naked fear behind their leather-trimmed steering wheels. A few young Jeeps passed me up on the way home from work, but they were the daring exceptions. Perhaps, just perhaps I will finally get to go sledding, which has not happened in a period of time just slightly less than forever. "Snow snow snow, we love snow, fun fun fun, snow snow snow..."

Watching The West Wing always depresses me, because it reminds me of everything our current administration is not: principled, intelligent, accountable, responsible, and most of all, legitimate.

To combat these feelings of rage and horror, a shuffle on the CD player between Flogging Molly, Toad The Wet Sprocket, The Amazing Crowns, Moby, and jazz does the trick. And also a quote from President Bartlett, probably mangled a bit, but pay attention all you young revolutionaries: "Never doubt that a group of intelligent, caring people can change the world." Actually, I'm sure that I've mangled it beyond hope of recognition, but the idea gets across. Of course, I can't check in with the West Wing chatroom on the MSN web site, because if you don't use Windoze you're obviously not smart or important enough to participate. Argh, Microsoft, you just made me angry.

Well, on a happier note I've decided to regale my speech class with a ten minute presentation on how to make a proper cappucino, and why filthy Starbuck's should not be held as the gold standard in coffee-based concoctions. Stop drinking it like swine at a rusty trough, people! Wow, I must have a lot of rage tonight, or something. Better go blow shit up in Starcraft. Ah, trusty, reliable Starcraft...

Germany, France, Belgium: The Axis of Impotence. Thanks John Stewart, I like that one. Although the arguments are not as simple as they may seem, France is essentially afraid of the consequences of our forthcoming invasion. For one, they're a hell of a lot closer to the action than we are. Two, their own oil interests would be terribly disrupted, which will impact the whole of the European economy in ways that no one can predict. What saddens me is that this entire situation is happening for the wrong reasons. I support the war and believe it is necessary, but the Crown Loyalists aren't motivated by anything as pure and saintly as Concern for the Common Man. The French are perfectly justified in their opposition to war, as is any sane Human Being, but it comes off as snobbish obstructionism for it's own sake. Americans as a people may be well liked, but the current Government is making itself dangerously unpopular with the rest of the world.

Vote them out of office in 2004.

Quick Add: There's another new link in the bar on your left. This is such a perfect, fabulous illustration of the power of modern communications that it almost gives me hope.

What a monsterous peice of work. I just finished reading Kingdom of Fear, but the work I refer to is not Thompson's book. Rather, it's his life, and the fact that a man like that could live freely in this land we call America because he understood the fundamental principles at work here, namely the idea that any idiot lucky enough to be born on the right side of the border ought to be guaranteed a peice of the Freedom Pie. Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness, whatever that means to you. Thompson claims that Doom has finally swept down from it's perch to cast our world into eternal shadow, and that the Forces of Evil won their greatest victory, turned the tide a-la Midway, on November 7 in the most foul year of 2000. It's hard not to believe him.

My damned generation will be the one to deal with the havoc Bush and his cabal have and will wreak, not just on our country's physical infrastructure but on it's very soul. The Battle for the American Dream is still being fought, although there is evidence to suggest that it's continuation is mere formality at this point. But just by thinking, by using your brain you too can join the fight, and if enough of us fight back we can beat these greed heads. Not at their own game, for they've had far too long to polish their technique, and as poor Ralph Nader demonstrated for us, any jumped-up punk who even looks threatening will be beaten mercilessly by the Machine. They will tear great strips from your hide and roast your organs, pouring out libations to the gods of Commerce and Power while they tell your family how nice it was to work with you.

The Pot Stirrers, the Agitators of the Pundit Press, can and should be roundly ignored. Simple rage can drive a man to act, but if his brain is full of stupid lies he will run smack into the wall of Professional spinsters and lobbyists that are paid to guard the reigns of power. What is more dangerous than ever now is knowledge, not just facts and figures but true understanding of the hideous realities that surround us. That must be the aim of all thinking people if we wish to combat the madness of humanity in the next hundred years.

Today at work, like some sinister pusher Tak hands me a CD full of Clone High candy. So guess what I spent all night doing? Watching cartoons (besides the Simpsons) has become more broadly accepted as cool, so long as they're repleat with dark humor and dirty wackiness. I think it's fantastic, and hopefully some of these shows will get the attention they deserve. The episode of Harvey Birdman: Attourney at Law where Fred Flinstone is a mob boss was downright inspired. And I am endeavoring to tape the episode of Futurama that features Al Gore, Nichelle Nichols, Deep Blue, Gary Gygax, and Stephen Hawking failing to save the universe. "I'm a tenth level vice president." Genius

Visitors on the Submarine today were particularly ape-like. There is a long-standing and eminently sane policy which does not allow Visitors to operate any of the equipment (steering wheels, lights, fuse panels) on board, partly because it's almost 60 years old and behaves in irrational ways. Tak recently secured several levers in the electrical distribution room so that people could no longer move them when the room is unsupervised, and I watched Visitors become so frustrated with the levers' unnatural immobility that they turned, like caged apes, to operating every other control that was in their reach. I swear upon all that is unholy that one of them actually grunted, vocalizing their annoyance in the primitive, gutteral pre-Man tongue of our ancestors.

Indeed. I purchased the latest from one Hunter S. Thompson a few days ago, and his writing always has an effect on my own. And while I firmly believe everything I've said about Lemurs, I do so mainly because it amuses me. I do not have any current plans for placing electro-shock fencing over all the windows in the house and installing armed guards to keep the Beast away from me. That would be a bit much.

But perhaps a friendly warning sign...

I used to get Deja Vu so bad it made me physically ill, as though my temporal existance was literally being displaced in the space-time continuum. It's less frequent now, and you could put it down to any number of things: pre-cognition, past lives, mind-controlling Fairy Princesses. My own feeling is that it's a dire warning to avoid becoming too settled, too familiar with your life the way it is, because if there are no more surprises then there's no point to living.

And yes, this "life" thing seems to be going quite swimmingly for the time being. Recall, however, the nature of Fate (okay, this is the last time) and how it works both ways. All things, even the universe itself, oscillate between the darkness and the light. Time will see to the end of the universe, but for now, we get to play around a bit.

Yes, I knew it. The Lemur ran amok this morning, spreading disease throughout the College and forcing the girl (let's give her a name. Clytemnestra? Too long. She dances, so... Grace) to stay in bed. It's a petty hinderance, and it just goes to prove my point; Fate gets a hot thrill out of fucking with us. Fate enjoys this sort of thing. But the more attention I pay to It, the more powerful It becomes, so I'm done talking about the fuzzy bugger. You hear that, beast? Is it true that Lemurs become absolutely savage when they feel they're being ignored? Or am I a paranoid jackass who makes things up merely to entertain himself?

Allright, Universe, you win. I give up.

Backstory: Straight out of high school my grades sucked, so it was no suprise that when I applied to the University of Anytown, I didn't get in. Four years later IN THE YEAR 2003 I'm busy at a College, trying to earn enough credits to transfer to U. of A. Tonight, after three separate rejection letters, the U. of A. admissions office calls and says "You're in!"

Up down up down. Fate has ADD. I think it's doing this to tease me. You're teasing me, aren't you, Evil Ring-Tailed Lemur Demon? Yes, I can smell the deception on your hideous breath.

Fate is an evil, misshapen beast, with the trunk of a man and the torso of, oh, let's say a lemur. It's eyes glow crimson with a demonic inner fire, the insatiable need to rend and destroy everything it touches. Fangs drip with the blood from the heart of it's latest victim, and it waits, watching you go through your days with sinister patience. And then, just when things start to swim your way, before you can blink the demon lunges for your chest and digs it's inch-long ivory claws into your guts. A fresh victim.

The girl graduates in May, then moves to New York. This sort of thing happens with disturbing, depressing regularity.

In yet another act of dastardly consumption, I purchased Zwan's Mary Star of the Sea two days ago. "Honestly," the radio single, is quite catchy, and there's a lot of other good stuff as well. It comes with a DVD too, but I'll have to wait until my SuperDrive-equipped PowerBook Pallas arrives to actually check it out. Heh, I've owned DVDs for about two years now, and I'm just getting my first player. That's called planning ahead. Or just being stupidly optimistic.

Also, mad props go out to today for being good. My short oration in Speech Class was quite well recieved, and I had coffee with a girl whom I will now be having dinner with on Thurs. Not even a hideous quiz in Constitutional Law class could ruin that one. Fate will conspire, no doubt, to ruin this latest chance at love, as Fate has in the past. But for this precise instant today is good.

Hm. According to Mike Wallace, and a whole lot of other people, North Korea is the dictatorial shithole of the world. It's like this Jong-Il dude read 1984 and thought, "Hey, now that's the way to run a society!" Big Brother controls all media, and to a degree all thought, as well as the total resources of the state. 60%, three of every five human beings in N. Korea will die of malnutrition or starvation as children.

Here's my Solution for the Good and Glory of Mankind: The U.S. military ranges through Iraq and completely destroys all armored opposition within two months. Once Saddam is out, we can put in peacekeeping and nation-building forces, then take that massive body of trained and experienced troops, pilots, and sailors, and aim it squarely at N. Korea. Give their government the same ultimatum; "Disarm or get stomped." No dictator can survive if they lose face, so once Jong-Il is gone, reunite the peninsula and save twenty million lives.

Sure, then we can build a new Palestine and make wirled peas. Tasty.

It shouldn't be that shocking that Columbia blew up with all hands. After all, we've lost countless planes and helicopters in routine missions within a few thousand feet of the ground; these jokers regularly fly into outer space. I think it hurts because we think of astronauts as the upper-tip-top .00005% of the population, people who are both incredibly intelligent and crazy enough to strap on several million pounds of explosives in the name of science and human acheivment. We should mourn their passing, but keep in mind that the Navy/Marine V-22 Osprey has killed more people than anything NASA has done in it's existance. Whenever we hear of an Osprey crash, in the back of our minds we giggle and say "Gee, those military types really screwed up again, didn't they?" But just as many sons and daughters were lost, and the damn thing still doesn't work right.

Perspective sucks.