The Propagandist |
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you better shape up and start shitting me tiffany cufflinks or i will definitely fuck you up.
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the old man.
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Archives
 
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1.24.2004
the answer to our little quiz at buzzsaw: c or d are both acceptable, as would: "i can't hear you because i am pulling this bloody pencil out of my eye." **thanks for playing!** 5.01.2003
i'm feeling giddy today, since no sign of the ca.gov crowd. email and i may even share the new site's address. 4.30.2003
out of retirement for one post: so this weekend is the first anniversary of my grandfather's death. i keep telling myself that i'll be fine, that i've dealt with his passing, that i've moved on. but the other day when i woke up i knew it was the day he went into the hospital. the day i got the call that his lungs had failed him again. and i remembered walking into that darkened room, the bed pushed into the corner, his emaciated form barely discernable from the rumpled sheets. he had a supplemental oxygen tube strapped under his nose and an iv jammed into a bruised and puctured hand. his head lolled to the side and his bleary, tear and snot encrusted eyes locked on me, even though i knew he couldn't focus them. hi honey, he said, how are you? like any of this was ever about how i felt, i was obviously fine. i remember how tightly he gripped my hand, far harder than he ever had. he was still defiant but i knew he was scared, and as we sat there in the dusk of a midday hospital room with a random basketball game unwinding on the wall-mounted tv, without saying a word both of us knew this was the home stretch. i cried then - outside of course, i couldn't stand my papa trying to comfort me over his own impending death - and i cried the other morning too. it's not a pity cry, but a welling up of loss and memory, a blend of absent need and revelatory memory. i feel his presence and his absence in the same moment. i feel his pride and his shame, and i feel my love for him so deeply intertwined with every breath and beat of my heart that emotion squeezes through the hands i would use to control it and overflows into my consciousness. i miss you papa. today and every day. now and always. 3.27.2003
well, four page views from 207.173.14.ca.gov that means someone in california government has found this blog. unfortunately, it also means that this blog goes away. all links will be disabled very soon and the archives deleted. bye. TO: Ari Fleischer CC: GWB FR: The propagandist RE: FYI hey guys. wanted to give you a little foundation for your media strategy, just in case anybody asks. as a fellow propagandist, i understand that sometimes just saying something enough makes people believe it. while i personally am loathe to deploy this tactic, especially when what is being repeated is false, you folks seem to be institutionalizing it. so you have the etymology correct for the cornerstone of your foreign (and for that matter, domestic) policy: TAUTOLOGY SYLLABICATION: tau·tol·o·gy PRONUNCIATION: tô-tl-j NOUN: Inflected forms: pl. tau·tol·o·gies 1a. Needless repetition of the same sense in different words; redundancy. b. An instance of such repetition. 2. Logic: An empty or vacuous statement composed of simpler statements in a fashion that makes it logically true whether the simpler statements are factually true or false; for example, the statement Either it will rain tomorrow or it will not rain tomorrow. ETYMOLOGY: Late Latin tautologia, from Greek tautologi, from tautologos, redundant : tauto-, tauto- + logos, saying; see –logy. OTHER FORMS: tauto·logi·cal (tôtl-j-kl) , tauto·logic (-k) —ADJECTIVE tauto·logi·cal·ly —ADVERB 3.24.2003
"We must face the fact that the United States is neither omnipotent nor omniscient -- that we are only 6% of the world's population -- that we cannot impose our will upon the other 94% of mankind -- that we cannot right every wrong or reverse each adversity -- and that therefore there cannot be an American solution to every world problem." President John F. Kennedy 3.21.2003
so our soldiers go to fight, kill and die, and our president... ...goes on vacation. hey, we can't really expect him to stick around washington just for the war, can we? i mean, camp david would just sit there empty, right? he might lose his deposit. this guy makes me sick. at least he's not even trying to pretend to be brave, ala the texas air national guard. see you at the federal building, or wherever you have to go. just go. 3.20.2003
back when i worked for the , i didn't have a lot to do because i was mostly waiting to be sent out on campaigns. so i started a "quote of the day" email list. it was sort of a proto-blog, kind of the same useless and non sequitur crap i post here, but with the added benefit of a "reply" button next to the posting. this poem by Wilfred Owen, sent on armistice day, received the most responses by far. and it is the one that is most appropriate today. das, thanks for introducing me to owen's work. Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori is latin for "It is sweet and fitting to die for one's country." Owen was wounded in WWI, and returned to war after recovering. He was killed by a german machine gun just 7 days before the armistice. Dulce Et Decorum Est Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through the sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And toward our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind. Gas! Gas! Quick boys! An ecstacy of fumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time; But someone still was yelling out and stumbling, And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime. Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, As under a green sea, I saw him drowning. In all my dreams, before my helpless sight, He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning. If in some smothering dreams you too could pace Behind the wagon that we flung him in, And watch the white eyes writhing in his face, His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin; If you could hear at every jolt, the blood Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desperate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. -Wilfred Owen TO: ari "mealy mouthed" fleischer FR: the propagandist RE: my questions for your press evasion, er, conference 1. other than the military brass, how many of the people, yourself included, on bush's "military council of advisors" actually ever served in the regular military? 2. have those people ever seen combat, or at least witnessed it? 3. do any of the members of the military council have children in the military? 4. on the remote possibility that answer may be yes, how many of those children will actually potentially see combat? 5. other than diplomatic missions, have any members of the military council actually visited or traveled in the middle east? 6. have they ever met an iraqi? 7. how many of the military council members drive suvs? 8. have they ever seen a person killed in combat? 9. besides bush and cheney, did any of them actively dodge the draft when THEY were called upon to defend "democracy"? 10. bush claims hussein is not democratically elected and therefore not a legitimate leader; is it not a fact bush was made president by an act of an unelected body after losing the popular vote? 11. does that mean he will support any attempts by the nonaligned movement to implement regime change in the US? 12. three cows are not a herd. three fish are not a school. how are three countries a coalition? aren't we more an "axis of the willing?" something tells me my raised hand would go unheeded. |