The Absurdity of Rush Limbaugh

Rush Limbaugh apologizes:

For over 20 years, I have illustrated the absurd with absurdity, three hours a day, five days a week. In this instance, I chose the wrong words in my analogy of the situation. I did not mean a personal attack on Ms. Fluke.

I think it is absolutely absurd that during these very serious political times, we are discussing personal sexual recreational activities before members of Congress. I personally do not agree that American citizens should pay for these social activities. What happened to personal responsibility and accountability? Where do we draw the line? If this is accepted as the norm, what will follow? Will we be debating if taxpayers should pay for new sneakers for all students that are interested in running to keep fit? In my monologue, I posited that it is not our business whatsoever to know what is going on in anyone's bedroom nor do I think it is a topic that should reach a Presidential level.

My choice of words was not the best, and in the attempt to be humorous, I created a national stir. I sincerely apologize to Ms. Fluke for the insulting word choices."

Let’s leave aside for the moment the absurdity of Rush’s hypocritical non sequitur, i.e. that part about thinking discussions of both personal sexual activity and the business of knowing what’s going on in other people’s bedrooms being “absurd,” given that Limbaugh himself is one of the people most responsible for personally making such nonsense part and parcel of American politics. 

Let us also leave aside Limbaugh’s hilariously absurd lament about taking personal responsibility and personal accountability, and his foray into the slippery slope logical fallacy.  Oh noes! What will happen if we let loose college broads get birth control? Next thing you know we’ll be buying sneakers for liberal joggers and jockstraps for Muslim athletes and intimate lubrication for the homosexuals and Viagra for limp dicked radio hosts and, my God, where will it end? Woe! Woe!

Ahem. Sorry.

Instead, let us concentrate for the moment on the part where Limbaugh absurdly claims he didn’t mean for his attack to be personal.

I did not mean a personal attack on Ms. Fluke.

I did not mean a personal attack.

Which is, of course, why Limbaugh singled out a college student by name, then told twenty million of his slack-jawed listeners that she was a slut and a prostitute, then went on to completely mischaracterize Fluke’s testimony and fabricate statements that he directly attributed to her, then suggested she post sex videos on-line for Limbaugh himself to view, and if that wasn’t enough then Limbaugh spent the next two days engaged in ridicule and character assassination directed specifically at Sandra Fluke.

But he didn’t mean it personally.

Bullies never do. 

No of course not.  It’s never personal, is it?

Bullies are just looking for a laugh.  He meant it to be humorous he says.  Because calling a woman, an American citizen who wished to use her right to address Congress, a whore on national radio is just plain funny, man.

Limbaugh meant his so-called apology sincerely.  Sure he did. Except, today, this morning, he opened his radio show by blaming Liberals for the situation:

I descended to their [Liberals] level when I used those two words to describe Sandra Fluke. I've always tried to maintain a very high degree of integrity and independence on this program. Nevertheless, those two words were inappropriate. They were uncalled for. They distracted from the point that I was actually trying to make, and I again sincerely apologize to Ms. Fluke for using those two words to describe her. I do not think she is either of those two words. I did not think last week that she is either of those two words."

I don’t know what’s more absurd, the fact that Rush Limbaugh thinks that is actually some kind of apology or the fact that he actually used the word “integrity” in relation to what he does on the air.  But then, it’s never the bully’s fault, is it? It’s never the abuser’s fault. Of course it isn’t. 

Look what you made me do!

No, of course it wasn’t personal. Of course it wasn’t Rush’s fault. He’s the victim here. Of course he is.

Which immediately begs the question, if it’s the Left’s fault for this situation, if it’s Fluke’s fault, what the hell is Limbaugh apologizing for? 

Note that Limbaugh only “apologized” for calling Fluke a slut and a prostitute, not for lying about her testimony, not for engaging in character assassination, not for verbal assault or for demonizing her in front of twenty million listeners, not for putting words in her mouth, not for demanding that she post pornographic videos for him to enjoy, not for manipulating his listeners and fouling the political discourse. Not for the abuse she will now be forced to endure at the hands of his vicious and mindless minions.  No, of course, because she deserves that for having the gall to want to speak her mind before a Congressional inquiry on women’s health issues. The nerve of that uppity bitch. Really.

See? Look what you made me do! 

Limbaugh either doesn’t actually understand what the firestorm is really about or, like the standard issue abuser, he just doesn’t care. Frankly my money’s on the latter.  Limbaugh knows exactly what kind of people listen to his show, he knows exactly how they think. He knows how they will go after Fluke, he knows exactly the kind of email they’ll send, the threats they’ll make, the harassment they’ll engage in.  He knows exactly how to manipulate those people and he knows that they want to be manipulated. They’re simpleminded dupes who love nothing better than to be told how they think by Rush Limbaugh. 

Allow me an example:

[…] Rush is right and Obama was wrong in calling her [on the phone]. What decent woman would come forward telling their history on sex behavior. She said she had so much sex she had to stop. Why would a woman let the whole world know about her sex life. She is what Rush called her and who knows if she was prostituting. Her mother should be ashamed of her not proud of her as Obama put it. No insurance should cover birth control or contraceptive. Women should know themselves what to do and not do. If the advertisers pulled their ads from Rush who cares. He will pick up others that believe in what he said. Obama called her for political reasons. The women’s vote.

That was posted by somebody signing herself “Mariann Pepitone” on the ABC News forum (Note that Mariann is allegedly a woman, how’s that for cognitive dissonance? But I digress).   That comment, and the thousands of others just like it on ABC, Yahoo and elsewhere indicate that Limbaugh is very likely laughing into his sleeve.  See, Rush isn’t an idiot.  No, bear with me.  He may be an pompous gasbag caught up in his own bullshit, but he’s not an idiot – at least not when it comes to manipulating the weak-minded. When it comes to his audience, Limbaugh knows exactly what he’s doing. Note the part of his apology that says, “the point I was trying to make.” That’s the key, and he made his point, yes he did. Look back to that yahoo comment, listen to those who commonly quote Limbaugh even when they don’t realize they are doing it:

She [Fluke] said she had so much sex she had to stop.

She has so much sex she needs tax payers to pay for it.

Except of course, Fluke didn’t say any of that and, in fact, didn’t discuss her own sex life at all.  She didn’t ask for “free” contraception or any other medical procedure, she simply advocated for regulations that would require insurance (insurance that she is already paying for herself) to cover such things.

Also note that birth control pills cost exactly the same whether or not you have “lots and lots” of sex, or none at all.

But none of that matters, because:

Rush is right. Rush is always right. Always.

“Decent” women don’t discuss such things.  Ipso facto, any woman who does must be a whore.

Obviously any woman seeking access to contraception is probably “prostituting.”

She should be ashamed. Shame! Shame! Shaaaaame!

Insurance shouldn’t cover birth control or contraception anyway.

Women should know what to do and not do, with what not to do being the obvious and proper choice here.

Obama is pandering to the women’s vote.

See?

Limbaugh accomplished exactly what he set out to do. 

It doesn’t matter what the actual facts are. It doesn’t matter what Sandra Fluke actually said, or what she intended, or what in fact the actual provision in the Affordable Healthcare Law actually says.  Limbaugh successfully inserted what he wants his minions to think, and that was his intention all along. Among the angry simpletons who make up his audience, and a significant fraction of the conservative voting block, he has seeded exactly the false reality he intended and there will be no eradicating it. This is Limbaugh’s Death Panel moment.  This was his goal right from the very start.  He doesn’t care about Sandra Fluke, she was just a convenient target of opportunity, an unknown, a college student without voice or means to go toe to toe against a media giant like himself. Sandra Fluke is just a stupid smelly girl. 

With this attack, Limbaugh succeeded in turning the narrative back onto his own agenda, i.e. liberals are morally bankrupt, they are trying take America from real Americans, and so on. 

This is a perfect example of the practical application of Information Warfare. 

 

This morning the headlines are full of “Did Limbaugh go too far this time?” type headlines. 

Of course, it’s pure hyperbole, nothing but a rhetorical question.

Of course Limbaugh didn’t go too far. He can’t go too far.

This is what Rush Limbaugh does.

The further he goes, the more outrageous his is, the more his audience eats it up.

And they eat it up because they’re exactly the kind of people who get off on watching a bully beat up somebody smaller and weaker. Because to them, it is funny.

This morning the headlines are full of sober proclamations, seven or eight advertisers have pulled their ads from Limbaugh’s show and more are considering it. Oh, well, boy howdy, he’s doomed now.  Limbaugh sure learned his lesson. Wow. Awesome. Way to take a stand, Advertisers. That will teach him.

Please.

Limbaugh has spent the last three years calling the president a traitor, a terrorist, non-American, a usurper, an African colonial despot, and every other bizarre and foul and insulting name in the book. His audience loves it.  He called the First Lady first “fat” and then “uppity” in an unabashed display of racism, which of course he denied actually was racism – and I might even have believed him if he wasn’t also the guy who said, “Have you ever noticed how all composite pictures of wanted criminals look like Jesse Jackson?”  or how about “Look, let me put it this way: the NFL all too often looks like a game between the Bloods and the Crips without any weapons. There I said it.”  And “The NAACP should have riot rehearsal, they should get a liquor store and practice robberies.”  Or “They’re 12% of the population, so who cares?”  How about when he said to a black female caller, “Take that bone out of your nose and call me back.”  And his audience cheered.

Limbaugh knows his audience very well indeed. He wouldn’t be who he is, if he didn’t.

But, now?

Now Sleep Number Beds pulled its advertising from Limbaugh’s show? 

Now Legal Zoom and Quicken Loans think Limbaugh has gone too far?  Seriously?  That’s the cutoff, eh?

The Sleep Train, AOL, Tax Resolution Services Co. they were good with Limbaugh’s hate speech until last Friday, but now they’re drawing the line at calling some random law student a tart, is that right?

Limbaugh has repeatedly called the president every racist stereotype barely short of actually using the word “nigger” on the air, and we’re good with that. That’s OK, but calling Sandra Fluke a whore, well, boy, that by God is over the line. 

That’s rich.

That’s humorous.

And it means nothing.  A hundred other sponsors are clogging Limbaugh’s phone lines right now, clamoring for a chance to buy advertising time for reduced prices.   Sleep Number, AOL, Legal Zoom, Quicken Loans, they don’t give a good goddamn about Sandra Fluke or what Limbaugh called her, they just see an opportunity to get some free name recognition. 

If they were actually sincere, well, they’d have been offended a long, long time ago, wouldn’t they?

GOP presidential candidates have obsequiously pandered to Limbaugh for his endorsement since the start of the campaign season. They’ve attacked the left for exactly the same things Limbaugh has in language no less insulting or offensive. But now? Now they’re backing away. Well, sort of. That’s laughable. Gingrich (heh heh, Gingrich) called for Limbaugh to apologize, but then blamed the media for not focusing on the larger issues (heh heh Gingrich). Note, Gingrich didn’t blame Limbaugh for not focusing on the larger issues, just the “media.” When it comes to that personal responsibility Gingrich is so big on, well, you know, blame the media – hey, it’s worked for Gingrich so far, why not Limbaugh too? And just never mind that Limbaugh, by any definition, is the media “elite” (but I digress, again).  When asked about the controversy, Mitt Romney said, “Well, it’s not the language I would have used.”  Smooth, Mitt, smooth, way to forcefully support women’s rights. Well done. Very Presidential. Really.  In the spirit of takes one to know one, Rick Santorum said, “He’s being absurd.”  But, hey, continued Santorum, Limbaugh is an entertainer, so you know that’s OK because that’s what entertainers do.  Then Santorum (heh heh, Santorum) expressed concern that President Obama was “trying to impose his values on people“ (yeah, it’s OK if you throw up in your mouth a little bit over that last one. Jesus Haploid Christ, the hypocrisy could stun a charging RINO at fifty paces).

House Speaker John Boehner, in a rousing display of the iron courage he’s so well known for, managed to meekly denounce Limbaugh’s comments by calling them, well, sorry Mr. Limbaugh Sir please don’t take my balls, uh, “inappropriate.” 

John McCain was roused briefly from the thick yellow fog of his senile dementia and angrily shouted “pickles!” When pressed for clarification by Soledad O’Brien, McCain managed a moment of lucidity and said, “totally unacceptable. Totally and completely unacceptable and there’s no place for it.” Then McCain explained how Limbaugh is an “entertainer,” so um, well, you know, Pickles!

Meanwhile, this morning Michael Savage, he of the savage throbbing wiener, professional paranoid and a guy who thinks Limbaugh is too mamby pamby, accused the President of the United States of having Andrew Breitbart assassinated.  I know, I know, go on, make the facepalm (Yes, obviously a ridiculous accusation, if Obama had ordered the hit, he wouldn’t have given Randy Andy a heart attack courtesy of the NSA, he would have done it with a Hellfire missile dropped from a loitering Predator while Breitbart was attending a bar-mitzvah. Duh).  How many of the Savage Nation’s sponsors pulled out this morning? Ten? Five? One?  Yeah. Funny thing, didn’t Breitbart actually pretend to be a prostitute or a pimp or something a while back? 

Meanwhile, over on the Limbaugh Channel FoxNews, Bill O’Reilly puffed up like a poisonous toad and croaked in righteous rage, “Let me get this straight, Ms. Fluke, and I’m asking this with all due respect [all due respect being apparently none, but I digress], you want me to give you my hard-earned money so you can have sex?”  O’Reilly then went on to say that since Fluke wanted society to cover her “activities” (heh, heh, Bill said activities, huh huh huh), the government should have subsidized his college football uniforms, since an injury “might have cost society a lot.”  Bill seems to have completely missed that fact that any injuries incurred on the gridiron would have been covered under his college’s medical insurance.  And in fact sports related injuries cost school medical programs a hell of a lot more than the average monthly prescription for birth control pills. Funny thing, those “activities”  O’Reilly thinks he shouldn’t have to pay for (and which Fluke wasn’t in fact asking him to)?  Medical coverage for those sports injuries are completely avoidable, all we have to do is get rid of college sports.  Everybody wins, no sports related medical costs, no paying for coaches and stadiums and equipment or pedophilia court cases.  Where’s Bill’s outrage now?  Also, I notice that those same advertisers who quit Limbaugh are hanging tough with Fox. Why is that, do you suppose?

Meanwhile, down in the sun blistered desert of Crazyland, Sheriff Joe Arpaio has declared President Obama’s birth certificate a computer generated “forgery.”  Not only that, but he upped the ante by declaring that Obama’s Selective Service registration card may not be authentic either and he called on Congress to investigate the matter – because apparently while we don’t have money to take care of poor people, we’ve got money to investigate Birther claims. 

Sources close to Arpaio say that he was afraid Donald Trump was hogging the Obama hatin’ glory-hole.

And even more meanwhile, the State of Missouri has commissioned a bust of Rush Limbaugh for its statehouse (No, I’m not making that up).

You’ll note that Sleep Number, and Sleep Train Mattress, and Quicken Loans, AOL, and all the rest haven’t decided to pull out Arizona or Missouri. 

And when the smoke blows over, you can bet they’ll be quietly crawling right back to Rush Limbaugh.

Forgive me, if I’m somewhat less than impressed by any of this absurdity.

Here’s the bottom line, folks: What it comes down to is this, Rush Limbaugh attacked a young woman for exercising her right to address Congress.  A lot of people in positions of power on both the left and the right condemned Limbaugh for his thuggish tactics, some more strenuously and sincerely than others, but in the final accounting only one American leader stepped forward to offer support and defense to the victim. It wasn’t a Senator or a Representative.  It wasn’t those CEOs and business leaders. It wasn’t those four sorry bastards seeking the White House. 

And it sure as bloody hell wasn’t any hypocritical Christian leader or prominent clergyman.

No, when the mob gathered to watch and jeer while a bully beat up the weak and helpless, it was the President of the United States who stepped forward.

It was Barack Obama who called Sandra Fluke personally and offered his support. 

And that, right there, says everything you need to know.

Iditarod 2012

 

This weekend was the kickoff of the Last Great Race. 

Those of you who know me personally know of my passion for this uniquely Alaskan event, and my absolute respect for these mushers and their amazing dogs. 

I’ve written about the Iditarod since Stonekettle Station was first on the internet.  Three years ago in response to questions I was getting about the race and why I love it so much, I wrote the following article. Since then, each March on race weekend I’ve reposted it along with pictures and updated commentary from that year. This will likely continue.

 

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AN EPIDEMIC OF DIPHTHERIA IS ALMOST INEVITABLE HERE STOP I AM IN URGENT NEED OF ONE MILLION UNITS OF DIPTHERIA ANTITOXIN STOP MAIL IS ONLY FORM OF TRANSPORTATION STOP …

Those lines were part of a message sent by Curtis Welch, MD, on January 22nd, 1925 via radio telegram from Nome to all towns in the Alaskan Territory.

That desperate message was intended for the Territorial Governor in Juneau, and the public health service in Washington D.C. and it sounded an emergency of almost unimaginable horror. Dr. Welch was facing a disaster the likes of which are rarely seen outside of fiction.

At the turn of the century, during the boom town glory days of the Klondike gold rush, more than 20,000 people lived in Nome – in January of 1925, long after the gold and gold miners had run out, Nome boasted a population of around 1400, about 975 white settlers and 450 Alaskan Natives. The last ship of the season, the steamship Alameda, had left Nome harbor two months before, tracking south ahead of the encroaching winter ice. The sun had followed the steamship, disappearing below the southern horizon and leaving Nome locked in the grip of –50F temperatures and the endless Arctic night.

During the Alaskan winter, Nome’s only contact with the outside world was unreliable HF radio – and the more reliable dog sled mushers and their teams who carried the mail and what light cargo they could via the old Iditarod trail.

Shortly after the departure of the Alameda, a native child fell sick and died. At first Dr. Welch was unsure of the cause, but as more and more children sickened over the next few weeks he began to suspect diphtheria – an upper respiratory tract infection caused by Corynebacterium diphtheriae. In the early stages, diphtheria mimics the symptoms of tonsillitis, the flu, or the common cold – which is why Welch, with the primitive diagnostic tools available to him at the time, was slow to recognize the impending disaster. Left untreated, diphtheria destroys the nervous system, leading to a loss of motor control and sensation, and very quickly, death. Diphtheria is highly contagious, with fatality rates up to 10% in the general population and as high as 20% in young children and adults over 40. Among the elderly and those with compromised immune systems, the fatality rate is much higher. More than likely, crewmen from one of the visiting ships had unknowingly brought the disease north at the end of the shipping season, leaving behind a deadly time bomb. As Welch noted in his radio message, by January an epidemic was almost inevitable. Nome’s only doctor was staring straight into the specter of at least 300 immediate deaths – all of which would be his family and friends.

But the pending disaster was far, far worse and far more horrifying. Nome was the hub of the surrounding area, the native population around the town numbered well over 10,000. Those natives had no resistance to the disease at all.

Their expected mortality rate was nearly 100%.

Nowadays, diphtheria would be treated with antibiotics, Erythromycin or even the big gun, Procaine Penicillin G. But antibiotics didn’t exist in 1925, and the best treatment was diphtheria antitoxin. The antitoxin didn’t cure the disease but rather neutralized the toxins released by the diphtheria bacillus into the victim’s bloodstream – giving the body’s own immune system a chance to combat the infection without having to deal with being poisoned at the same time. Unfortunately, even today the antitoxin doesn’t neutralize toxins already bonded to tissues and does nothing itself to kill the bacteria. For the antitoxin to work, it has to be administered as early as possible, usually immediately as soon as a doctor makes the clinical diagnosis of diphtheria infection and without waiting for laboratory confirmation.

One other thing to note: the antitoxin is perishable. Dr. Welch had antitoxin on hand, all of which had expired.

And so he radioed for help.

No ship could reach them, and in fact couldn’t get within 500 miles of Nome by then. No plane, not even the most advanced aircraft in the Alaskan Territory at the time, the Postal Service’s DeHavilland DH-4, could fly under the winter conditions – their open cockpits and liquid cooled engines made that utterly impossible.

The only solution was dogsled.

The antitoxin would have to be transported via a relay of sled dogs, from Tanana to Nome, a distance of 674 miles through astoundingly rugged territory in temperatures that were at record lows, -50 to –60 degrees Fahrenheit.

Wild Bill Shannon led off, mushing out of the train station in Tenana with the twenty pound package, about 30 doses, of serum in his sled at 9PM on January 27. Shannon’s team was composed of nine dogs, all inexperienced, led by Blackie. Shannon was forced onto the frozen Tanana River, with temperatures approaching –62F he ran behind the sled to stay warm. He mushed into Minto with his face frozen black from the cold, hypothermic and severely frost bitten. He left three dying dogs in Minto, and headed out for Tolovana. Another dog died on the trail.

Edgar Kallands picked up the relay in Tolovana. When he arrived at Manley Hot Springs, they had to poor hot water over his hands to pry them off the sled’s handlebars.

Meanwhile the world waited. Nome’s plight had caught the attention of the entire globe . Famed Arctic explorer Roald Amundsen, even offered to make an attempt in an airplane. The Navy proposed sending one of its ships as far north as possible, then assembling a plane on the ice pack and launching it towards Nome. Many other ideas were suggested. All were rejected as too risky and foolhardy. Nome would live or die with the mushers and their dogs.

The serum went north, from Manely Hot Springs via native mushers arriving at Bishop Mountain on January 30, at 3:00 in the morning. The temperature was –62F, and dropping. Charlie Evans mushed out of Bishop Mountain and lost both of his lead dogs on the trail, legend has it that he himself held the traces and led the remaining dogs into Nulato.

Tommy Patsey took the next leg out of Nulato and across the Kaltag Portage. The serum was handed off to Victor Anagick and then to Myles Gonangnan at Unalakleet at the edge of the vast Norton Sound.

A storm was rising. The type of storm you’ll only find in the deepest of arctic winter on the ‘Sound. The kind of storm that comes from winds driven across two thousand miles of frozen ocean. Gonangnan took one look at it and decided not to cross the ice – he knew the storm winds could easily push the pack ice and open leads to the frigid black water below, cutting the team off from land and dooming 10,000 people to almost certain death. He choose instead to circle the Sound in whiteout conditions and with wind chills approaching 70 below zero in gale force winds. He arrived in the native village of Shaktoolik at 3PM on January 31st damn near froze to death. Henry Ivanoff, took the serum and headed out into the storm.

At the same time the serum was heading north, Leonhard Seppala rode south out of Nome to meet the relay in Shaktoolik. Sappala crossed Norton Sound on the ice and turned east toward Shaktoolik in blinding conditions. Just outside Shaktoolik, he meet Ivanoff who had gotten tangled up with a reindeer and was struggling to free his harness and dogs.

Seppala took the serum and turned back into the teeth of the storm, again crossing the ice of Norton Sound. His lead dog, Togo, managing to find the way with almost supernatural instinct. Togo led the team unerringly from Ungalik to the road house at Isaac Point on the far side of Norton Sound, and in one day they covered a distance of 84 miles through one of the worst arctic storms on record. They rested at the road house, and then departed into the full power of the worsening storm, and as they ran across the ice the 65 mile per hour winds begin to open leads behind them and the ice began to break up. Seppala managed to make the shore, just ahead of the buckling ice and crossed Little McKinley Mountain – climbing nearly 5000 feet in the process. Seppala reached the road house at Golvin at 3PM on February 1st and passed the serum on to Charlie Olsen.

Olsen lost the trail in the storm and suffered severe frostbite to his hands while trying to save his dogs, but he made it to Bluff on on the evening of February 1st. Gunnar Kassen was waiting for him.

Kassen attempted to wait out the storm, but instead of lessening it kept getting worse. Kassen, afraid that drifts would block the trail, departed Bluff at 10PM into a 60 mile per hour headwind and whiteout conditions so bad that he could not even see the wheel dogs harnessed closest to the sled. He missed the lodge at Solomon and was two miles beyond it before he realized his mistake – so he kept going. Beyond Solomon the trail became an endless nightmare. The winds flipped Kassen’s sled and the precious cylinder of antitoxin fell out and was lost in the snow. Kassen froze his hands feeling around in the drifts for it. He found it, righted the sled, and continued on to Point Safety, making it ahead of schedule on February 2nd. Kassen’s lead dog, Balto, had performed an almost unbelievable feat of navigation through the storm.

Ed Rohn, believing that Kassen would have to wait out the storm at Solomon was not prepared when Kassen arrived. Because it would take time to ready Rohn’s team, and time was of the utmost importance, Kassen elected to continue on rather than wait. Kassen and Balto covered the remaining 25 miles and arrived two hours later on Front Street, Nome at 5:30AM on the morning of February 2nd.

Not a single glass ampoule of the antitoxin was lost, and the serum was thawed and ready for use by noon. Altogether the teams covered 674 miles in 127.5 hours under extreme arctic winter conditions in a hurricane force gale.

That was the first relay.

There were more, carried by many of the same men who ran in the first relay.

And later there were plane flights.

Nome was saved and so was the Alaskan Native population.

Rarely in fact or fiction has there ever been anything to match the skill, courage, and dedication of those men and dogs.

 

Today, we remember the events of that long ago time with the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog race.

It began humbly enough.

The Last Great Race had its origins in the mid 1960’s, the idea of Dorothy Page and Joe Redington Sr (later called “The Father of the Iditarod”), as mostly unnoticed competitions between enthusiasts of a slowly dying and mostly forgotten way of life.  Snow machines and technology had long ago replaced dogs on the snowy trails of the north, and mushing was a skill likely soon to be lost in the frozen blizzards of history – along with diphtheria epidemics and open cockpit mail planes.

Later Redington, along with local school teachers Gleo Huyck and Tom Johnson, came up with the idea of extending those short races all the way to Nome – many, including Dorothy Page thought they were crazy. But in 1973, the very first Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race followed the old traces 1100 miles from Anchorage to Nome and forty years later The Iditarod is an ingrained part of our state’s history – and more than any other event, responsible for reviving and preserving dog mushing in North America.

The race begins on the first Saturday in March after a two week winter festival known as The Fur Rendezvous (called simply Rondy by Alaskans) with a ceremonial start in downtown Anchorage.

 

The whole city turns out for the celebration and people come from all over the world to watch the mushers and their dogs run through the streets.

 

It can be little crowded on 4th Street, but the crowd is always good natured and well behaved. The streets smell like wood smoke and grilling food. The air is filled with laughter and the excited yipping of the dogs.  Even if you hate crowds, as I do, it’s damned hard not to like this one.

As we worked our way through the press, I held the camera over my head and snapped a dozen shots. Eleven of them were nothing special, then I got this one. The camera was set in facial recognition mode and the autofocus locked on to the man in the bottom left-of-center who was staring intently into the lens – and suddenly the impersonal crowd had a face. And I love the color and the huge snow flakes caught mid fall.

 

There’s every kind of food you can imagine, but it’s Alaska so you better have yourself a Reindeer brat smothered in onions. 

 

The ceremonial start begins on 4th Street at the Iditarod Mile Zero Marker (a bronze statue of  a running sled dog) and goes about eleven miles across town to the Campbell Airstrip.  This is a good warm-up for the dogs and helps temper their enthusiasm, who at this point just hours before the real race begins are bounding bundles of excitement and energy.   Typically during the ceremonial start, the teams tow an additional sled in tandem behind the main sled and bring along “Iditariders,” i.e. folks who have either bought or won a chance to ride along through the cheering crowds with their favorite mushers.  The Iditarider concept helps raise money to support the teams and makes the race personal for a lot of fans.

My wife was an Iditarider on Alan Moore’s sled in 2007. 

 

Which is how we met and became friends with Alan and his wife, musher Aily Zirkle. Aily is Bib #14 this year. Alan is sitting out the race, having given up his slot to a rookie racer who has been training at their kennel.  Considering what’s on the line here, It doesn’t get much classier than that. Seriously.

The Fabulous Aily Zirkle herself:

 

The dogs take the excitement in stride. They’re beloved athletes, born and bred for this and despite the protestations of certain animal rights organizations, these dogs are often better cared for than the most delicate and pampered toy poodle living in a penthouse on Fifth Avenue.  There are few things that will earn you the contempt and scorn of mushers and Alaskans alike, than not placing the welfare of your dogs above all else.  Aily herself literally risked her own life to save her dogs when she was attacked by a moose on the trail, and that’s pretty damned typical of the regard mushers hold for their dogs.  

Despite all the noise and excitement, few of the dogs act as if there is anybody else on the streets of Anchorage except for themselves.  They sit calmly and uninterested while fans snap pictures and the crowd shouts its lungs out.  They don’t start getting excited until they get hooked to the traces, then it’s an entirely different story.

 

Sunday, the day after the ceremonial start, the race begins in earnest on a frozen lake 70 miles north of Anchorage in the tiny town of Willow.  Some years, we’ve been on that lake at thirty below in blowing snow, but not this year. Today, like last year, was a gorgeous Alaskan day, clear and mild and not a cloud in the sky.  The temperature was about 30 degrees warmer than it usually is this time of year.

This didn’t keep anybody from firing up the fire pits and propane warmers.  30 degrees warmer than usual is still only about 8F or so. 

The race starts with the first team out of the gate at 2PM, and each subsequent musher follows at two minute intervals.  About fifteen minutes before each team’s turn, the dog handlers start forming up the teams.

The dogs get a last minute feeding.  Running, they’ll burn an amazing amount of calories, in the range of 15 to 20,000 per day, with that kind of energy expenditure their problem isn’t staying warm in subzero temps, it’s just the opposite – which is why these dogs typically have shorter fur and are smaller than you’d expect.  

The dogs need a constant, high calorie food intake and they typically get topped off right before they form up.

I love the expressions on the dogs’ faces in the following picture, especially the gray one (the first dog facing the camera) Oh Boy! High protein fish slop again! My favorite!

And then it’s time for the race, only a thousand more miles to go!

 

For the rest of us, it’s back to Anchorage via car or bush plane.

 

My wife and I saw old Joe Redington race his last Iditarod in 1997 at the age of 80.   He died two years later, in 1999, and was buried in his favorite dogsled in the town of Wasilla where it all began.

His legacy is a very big deal in Alaska, it’s a celebration of much more than a mere sport, it reminds us forcefully of our history here in The Great Land, it speaks directly to a triumph of the human spirit in this harsh and beautiful place.

More, the race reminds Alaskans every single year of those long ago men and their dogs who dared greatly, and won.

Hate Mail From Jesus

I get hate mail.

Honestly, I could probably write about nothing but tasty bacon and get hate mail.

Granted, I probably attract it to some degree or another, but that's not really the point now is it?

I don’t know that I get any more hate mail than any other blogger, but if you write about certain subjects you’re pretty much guaranteed to get some pretty nasty responses. And when I say hate mail, I’m including comments on the blog as well. After a while you can predict when and from who.

Write about politics, you get hate mail.

Write about abortion, and you will most certainly get frothy hate mail.

Write about religion, you get weird, poorly spelled and bizarrely punctuated hate mail that verges on outright insanity.

Let something you wrote go viral or get farked, or end up linked in the mainstream media, believe me you will get some intense hate mail – even if you wrote about crispy delicious bacon.

Write about politics, abortion, and religion all in one article as I did the other day, get greenlit on Fark, and then see what happens.  You get big dump-truck loads of fresh steaming hate mail – often with the added bonus of death threats. 

Now, if you’re thinking about getting into the hate mail gig as a blogger, there are ways to improve on that.  See, with the advent of interactive media a certain foamy and obnoxious mindset has developed over the last few years, people who truly feel that their rights are being trampled, that they are actually being persecuted, if they aren’t allowed to spew whatever silly horseshit they want on your blog.  Turn on comment moderation and see if you don’t really set those loony bastards right off.

It’s ironic, don’t you think? 

Ironic that when you speak about American politics, you get hate mail and death threats from flag waving patriots who call themselves Americans – i.e. citizens of a country that is supposed to be the very epitome of freedom, freedom of worship, freedom of speech, freedom of belief. Some of these folks really seem to think that freedom means freedom to believe only what they do, or freedom to fuck off to sissy Canadaland and be violated by flannel-clad polar bear jockeys. 

Ironic that when you talk about abortion, people who claim to love life above all things threaten to take yours.  I’ve never quite understood the logic behind taking your gun to a right-to-life protest, but that’s probably because I spend so much time with flannel wearing Canadians.

And ironic, that when you write about religion you get intensely bitter hatred from devout believers who profess to follow a religion supposedly based on peace and love. Why is it that those who embrace a belief system whose very symbol is a simple fish that represents, at least in part, a parable about feeding the poor and hungry get so defensive when you mention their astounding contempt for those self same poor and hungry?  Why is it, do you suppose, that a belief system supposedly based on the unconditional acceptance of a loving God puts so many conditions on that acceptance? Why is it that a belief system supposedly based on tolerance is so increasingly intolerant? 

Your a liar and a pervert! You’re filth writing enables murder!!! Its no different than if you killed them with your own hand!!! People read you’re kind of “nonsense” and think its ok to kill there babys. Shame! “freedom of choice” a lie told by Satan.  Try reading the true Bible again and this time listen to Jesus words, liar there is no “choice” you must accept him or dy for ever. its not the mote in the Churches eye its the beam in your own!!  You’re immorale Obama, Father of LiES who orders child murder is destroying this country not the Chruch. You need to open youre heart to Christ now before it is too late! [sic]

A liar and a pervert?  Sure, but it’s not my fault, see, I never had the advantages of being homeschooled like you obviously did.  Plus, I’m pretty sure Satan was my Calculus teacher.

You’re the one whose position isn’t consistent. You’re the one who keeps contradicting yourself. Liberals are hateful liars who spread lies. True conservatives (example Santorum) are not hypocrites. He is consistent because he believes in God which you obviously do not or you would be dead already and have to face your judgement.  [sic]

A little advice: while the phrase “If you believed in God, you’d be DEAD already!” is kind of catchy (especially if it was in neon comic sans over a smiling Buddy Jesus statue) you should probably avoid putting it on the pancake prayer breakfast posters.  I'm just saying.

[…] you seem to have flunked basic logic so let me spell it out for you, A woman who wants to murder her baby has already chosen to have sex outside of marriage. Because she is pregnant. Duh. If she was married her husband would not let anybody kill the baby. Get it?  So a trans v@ginal ultra sound is NOT “r@pe”  You can’t “r@pe” somebody who has already had sex outside of marriage.  She has already decided to let anybody into her uterus. Get it?  She wanted to have sex instead of waiting for marriage. She did have freedom of choice and that’s the problem. When you don’t chose God, you make bad choices. Get it now? [sic]

I may be no expert on how to pick up women but trust me on this, you're not going to "get it" either with an attitude like that.

Why do you liberals always say “uterus?” do you think that makes you sound smart? Or does political correctness make murder easier?

Oh, it’s definitely the second thing.  In fact, I’ll let you in on a little secret, if you chant “Uterus! Uterus! Uterus!” Satan appears with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones so that you don’t have to listen to the little screams while you’re ripping babies from the womb and running them though the Bass-O-matic.  Afterward, you get to keep the headphones. They’re great for airplanes, GOP debates, and satanic rituals while you’re enjoying a nice human eggnog smoothy. True story.

…this [molestation and child abuse] is YOUR fault!!!! People like YOU kicked GOD out of government. You kicked GOD out of school and the public square. You drove GOD away and now we have to pay for it. If you idiots would ask God back into America our once great country wouldn’t be going down the toilet. 2012. The world will end soon and then you will be SORRY. My adise? Prey. [sic]

Prey? uh, okay, but I don't see how hunting is going to get Jesus in the classroom. Unless … are there flannel clad Canadians involved?  

You said it boggles your little atheist monkey brain?  Well it boggles my mind that that people like you cant see what God is putting right in front of you, the country is falling apart, we have a president who hates America and isn’t even an American citizen. And no its not because he is black. It’s exactly like God predicted. The economy is worse then the great Depression, people out of work and they kill their own children!  What’s wrong with you? Why do you hate God so much? Do you think that killing unborn babies will make the economy better? I think too much war messed up your monkey brain. [sic]

I have a couple of funny stories about war and monkey brains, but since this is a family blog I probably better not say anything.

Why do you want to put something up a man’s butt? Think about it.  You need to accept Jesus because you are very sick. I am not joking.

Well, I was hoping if we stuck a probe up you ass we might find your head, but we'll have to move the Bishop out of the way first.

[in the post that sparked all of this, I suggested that men who believe women should be forced to have an ultrasound probe forcibly inserted into their vaginas in order to have an abortion should have to have a similar probe inserted rectally in order to buy Viagra. The phrase I used was “A man should have to look his prostate in the eye.” This did not go over very well with a certain group of folks]

Abuse does NOT happen in the church (not cathalic)  or the private schools, except for some stuff you see in the MSM and that’s mostly lies by liberals who want to teach EVILution LIES in the public schools so they are trying to get the church’s and private school closed.  Jesus teaches that those who point fingers are guilty of lies themselves.  So you point your finger at churchs. What are YOU hiding……Hmmmmm? [sic]

Well, you know me, I'd be the last one to argue with Jesus. We'd better start locking up all the cops and prosecutors and all the other finger pointers. And the politicians. And the ... Hey! Are you pointing you finger at me? You are, aren't you? Ohhhh, get in the sack, get in it right now.

You know, this kind of stuff doesn’t bother me all that much.

You get a couple hundred letters and comments of this kind and taken out context it can seem like the world is full of crazed flesh eating locusts. It can be downright depressing, and a number of you have written to express exactly that sentiment.  But you’ve got to look at it in perspective, there are eight billion people on the planet (I’m rounding off here, it’s not an exact number), and several hundred million Americans. These nuts are a tiny minority.  They’re a vocal minority sure, but a minority none the less. Most of the world is not insane.

Hell, look at the GOP primaries.  Despite all the noise, despite all of the crazy, the moderate is the clear front runner.  Just as a moderate was last time around too – even if he did pick a raving loon as his running mate.

When you leave the porch light on and you step out into a cloud of crazy suicidal moths, it can seem like the whole night is filled with light maddened bugs, but it’s only a trick of perception.

Some of it, like a few of the excerpts above, I find amusing rather than offense. Honestly, how can you not laugh at these people?  Sure it’s like picking on the class spaz, but damnit sometimes you just can’t help yourself.

Some I think verge on mental illness, a mental illness we are far too accepting of in this country, and certainly there is little amusing in that.

But most of it is just sad, sad that people actually look at the world in this manner, sad that they go through life as dim little sparks hating the world and hating everybody in it, sad that they actually think that there's some kind of everlasting happiness to be had by acting like stupid rotten bastards, sad that they are so worried about some mythical next life that they never enjoy this one right here. 

So, no, most of the hate mail and trollish comments do not particularly bother me, not even when they threaten my life. Not even when they cause me extra work or cause me to moderate the blog.

But there is a certain form of response that I do find offensive, just downright obnoxious in the extreme, an example of which was posted by an anonymous commenter on last week’s Insane Clown Posse Drinking Game post:

Jim, you have thoughts that I generally agree with, and you seem to be a talented woodworker. However, your verbal abuse of my Lord and Savior really turns me off. I was once like you in that regard, and am still a woodworker. Perhaps He whom you seem to hold in such low regard can design an event that will help you to see your error. He did for me. Best regards.

Now, the anonymous commenter can whore that up all he or she likes, they can tack a “best regards” on the end, but no matter how politely they word it, it’s an obnoxious bit of douchebaggery.  What this comment actually says is this:

I’m a lying sack of shit. See, I said I mostly agree with you and implied that I like what you write, but that’s really not true at all. What I really mean is that I admire your writing style, your talent, but I don’t like what you write.  What I really want is for you to write what I want to say but lack the talent and ability to do myself.  All that time you took to develop your skill with words? I don't want to have to do that, I just want to take yours. It’s sort of like saying well you know, I like that Tiger Woods, but I sure wish he’d quit that Jesus hatin’ golf and switch over to basketball because I don’t like golf but I sure like basketball.

I used to be normal.  Eventually something happened that turned me into a holier than thou religious nut.  So like those folks who quit drinking or quit smoking or quit screwing around, I now think everybody else must suddenly give up whatever they are doing and become a religious nut too.  I’m sort of bummed that God doesn’t do what I want and just wave his big magic God Stick and make you just like me. I wonder why he doesn’t? I find that very frustrating.  Now, since I am unlikely to convince you to amend your evil ways, what I hope happens is that Jesus just jams a fucking icepick into your eye and gives you a lobotomy. Yes, that’s correct.  All the things that make you you? The way you see the world? The things you fought for and the things you believe in? Right on down to the way you talk and the way you write? Fifty years of your personal experience, your life, your viewpoint? You sense of humor? All the things you’ve seen, the events that shaped your life? The people who love you just the way you are? Yeah, to hell with that. I’m closing my eyes and squeezing my fists together and asking God to just erase all of that, erase you, and make you into a magic meat puppet who only parrots things that I won’t find offense or contrary to my beliefs because obviously I am more important than you are and you should have to be just like me.

Oh and have a nice day.

The friendly tone of the comment doesn’t make it better or less offensive, it makes it worse.  It’s like finding a sugar coated pickled egg on your plate. Like lilac scented room deodorizer over the smell of rotting meat and halitosis. Like a pink Hello-Kitty paint job on a pair of brass knuckles. 

Like a pedophile disguised as a priest. 

It’s downright obnoxious is what it is. What kind of person, what kind of American, what kind of Christian, wishes a God Lobotomy on others?  What kind of person would wish that my mind be forcibly altered to fit their idea of who I should be? The unmitigated gall, the astounding arrogance, the unbounded self-righteous pride.

What kind of world would it be if people like Anonymous actually had their selfish wishes answered? If their God actually exists, maybe that’s why he doesn’t answer their prayers.  Funny thing, Jesus, son of God, all knowing, all powerful, he supposedly walked this earth and had the ability to just zap people into whatever meatloaf he wanted.

So why didn’t he?

Exactly.

But, hey, what the hell do I know, right?

 

The really ironic part? 

The really ironic part is that I will no doubt get hate mail for this post.

Moderation Is On

Due to a sudden, though inevitable, infestation of Right To Life Trolls and other such obnoxious types, comment moderation is now on.

 

It will remain that way until further notice.

 

Comments will be reviewed immediately if I’m not asleep, and posted if they meet commenting rules. Comments posted during the night will be reviewed in the morning.

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Update 1 : Moderation is off for this and the previous post.  All older posts remain in moderation

 

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Update 2: Wherein I answer your email concerns about the moderation policy.

Q: I hate moderation. I want my comment to appear right now!
A: Patience is a virtue.  I have no idea why, but it’s in the bible so it must be true.

Q: But I really, really hate moderation.
A: Too bad.  I don’t like trolls, and Ultra Conservative Right To Life trolls are an especially stupid and nasty bunch. Moderation stays on for now.

Q: FREEDOM!!! marg blurble ook ook! CONSTUTUTION! raff splarg BABIES!!! xlapoz ANTI-CHRIST!!! flif blor slurf USA USA!!!!?! (and so on)
A: I’m sorry, but internet law prohibits me from allowing your comment to post, erudite and articulate  though it may be, without the express written permission of your attending mental healthcare professional.  In triplicate. Via certified mail. Plus $5 shipping and handling.  Also a signed and notarized statement saying that you’ve read and understand the restraining order.

Q: I followed your rules, ass-face. Why didn’t you let my comment post? You suck.
A: Because either a) you type like a monkey with a head injury (see previous item) and I have no idea what you’re trying to say, or b) you’re a lying piece of human jetsam who didn’t read the rules, or c) you read the rules but don’t think they apply to you.  They do.  Your comment goes in the bit bucket. Suck it up, Buttercup.

Q: OK, I went back and read your stupid rules, why didn’t you let my comment post? You suck hard.
A: Because I don’t like you, and I don’t like your attitude, and I don’t like what you have to say. I pay for this blog, I’m not going to pay for you to call me names or threaten me.  I understand that some people enjoy that kind of thing, I don’t.  Perhaps you should seek out a blog by a conservative senator or a prominent religious leader, I understand many of them will pay to be abused. As a bonus they might even snort crystal meth out of your belly button.

Q: I bet you won’t let my comment post.  Because you know I’m right.  I dare you to post my comment. Dare you.
A: Oh, well, since you dared me… wait, ha! You didn’t double dog dare me! No post for you!

Q: Fag. Nazi. Communist. Nazi. Socialist. Fag. Why don’t you move to Iran? Fag. Nazi. Why don’t you move to Canada? Communist. Fag. Nazi. Why don’t you just die.  Hitler. Pussy. Fag. Nazi. Why do you hate America? Etcetera etcetera and so on. Nazi. Fag.
A: You left out stupid, lazy, and disrespectful (I will allow one bonus comment post if you get the reference).

Q: Fine, I’ll rephrase it in a manner that’s just as insulting but sounds more polite.
A: You’re still being a dickweasel and you’re just trying to start a shit fight.  This isn’t the Yahoo News Forum, YouTube, or your mom.

Q: I am now laughing out loud. Ha Ha. Flame wars generate hit counts. You don’t even know to use the internet. You, sir, are a novice at this bloggering thing, and I will label you as such using a word composed of a mixture of numbers and letters and at least one symbol to demonstrate my superior grasp of things 4Chan like.  Also, I will Laugh Out Loud again, in fact, I am so amused by your webbery ineptitude that I shall laugh until my buttocks fall right off. I am laughing right now. Laugh. Laugh laugh.
A: And yet, despite your assless chortling, I still manage to carry on.

Q: But, but, but, I’m quoting (Jesus, FoxNews, Ayn Rand, Ron Paul, Some guy at my church, some guy at the bar, Cthulhu, the voice in my head that sounds like Lambchop reading from Mein Kampf, all of the above) you have to let me post!
A: As amusing as that might be, no.

Q: You’re denying me my freedom of speech!  First Amendment! First Amendment!
A: I look forward to hearing from your lawyer.

and finally

Q: You’re an arrogant prick and your blog sucks.
A: So does your mom, the difference is that my blog didn’t charge you for it.

Rondy 2012

We spent the day in Anchorage at the Fur Rendezvous.

This is my favorite time of year and one of the things I dearly love about living in Alaska. 

During Rondy, the streets of downtown Anchorage are filled with the smell of wood smoke and good food and the crisp cold Alaskan winter.  The sound of happy people and excited dogs echoes off the buildings. And the streets are filled with snow. 

And in a week, it’s the Iditarod (those of you outsiders who think you know something about the Iditarod, think again, it’s one of the greatest stories in Alaskan American, history).

I spent the day taking pictures. Here are some of my favorites:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And we finished up with lunch at the Snow Goose and Sleeping Lady Brew House, complete with a coffee sludge. 

An altogether excellent day to be an Alaskan.

The Perversity of Extremism Tends Toward The Maximum

The greatest tragedy in mankind’s entire history may be the hijacking of morality by religion

Sir Arthur C. Clarke

“Credo,” Greetings, Carbon-Based Bipeds! Collected Essays, 1934-1998, 1999

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I need a word.

And I’m pretty sure that word is “boggle.”

 

Let’s review, shall we?

Here we have a political party who believes that while corporations are people, and therefore imbued with unlimited and inalienable rights, women are not – not people and not imbued with the same rights as men or corporations. 

Paradoxically, and for no reason that I can fathom – other than perhaps either brainwashing or a staggering level of self loathing – there are actually women who share this belief.

Now, these are the same folks who have proclaimed themselves champions of personal liberty here in the United States of America and are opposed to any regulation on business even when the conduct of that business poses a real and immediate threat to the security and welfare to the entire nation, indeed the entire world, but who see nothing wrong with regulating the hell out of a uterus.  Men have rights. Corporations have rights. Churches have rights. Uteruses have rights. Fetuses have rights. Women have rights only so long as they don’t impinge on the previously mentioned rights.

These are the people who claim to revere the concept of personal responsibility, of self determination, of freedom –  and supposedly the consequences thereof – except when it comes to a woman’s right to decide what is right for herself and her aforementioned uterus.  These people believe that any woman who chooses to accept personal responsibility for her own decision, must not be allowed to make that decision if it conflicts with their religious beliefs – even if the woman in question isn’t an adherent of their religion. 

These are the folks who hysterically scream“fascism!” and “death panels!” and demand the right to decide their own medical decisions for themselves without interference from either their neighbors or the government or anybody else’s church, but somehow believe that God told them to legislate a woman’s healthcare options, and most especially that aforementioned uterus.

These are the folks who think laws governing healthcare that come from the federal government are “communism,” but the exact same directives issued at the state and local level somehow are not.

These are the folks who decry supposed social engineering by their political opposition, but see nothing wrong with attempting to manipulate the population by implementing laws and practices whose only purpose is to publically shame and humiliate any woman who avails herself of a legal medical procedure. Doubtless these are the kind of people who if they had ever read The Scarlet Letter, would see themselves as the smugly self righteous Puritans – but in reality they are the self-hating hypocrite, Reverend Dimmesdale, piously preaching God’s morality and waving the Bible, and with their holy robes carefully clutched over their own shameful brand.

These are the kind of people who hold governmental hearings on women’s healthcare, and don’t allow a single woman to participate on the panel.

These are folks who rage loud and hysterically demand new laws to prevent the bronze age edicts of Middle Eastern religions from being imposed upon the women of America, despite absolutely no evidence in any way shape or form of that happening and Constitutional prohibitions specifically preventing it in the first place, but then vehemently protest and threaten violence when they aren’t allowed to impose the medieval misogyny of a religion from another part of the Middle East upon those very same women while they simultaneously denounce those very same Constitutional protections. 

These are the folks who demand that their own religious icons be posted in American courthouses, and yet somehow completely and blindly fail to understand that if they actually did get their way and American law really was indeed based upon those very same Biblical directives, they would be some of the very first criminals stoned to death in the town square and outside the city gates, Jehovah didn’t differentiate between Democrat and Republican, Liberal and Conservative. There was a time when this land was governed by such laws, note the previously mentioned Nathaniel Hawthorne novel, somehow I seriously doubt many of these people really want to return to that world, most especially including a certain former Speaker of the House, presidential candidate, and serial adulterer – but I digress.

These are the people who actually think that abstinence is a workable form of birth control despite millennia of contrary examples, despite being supposed experts in the human condition, despite the fact their own priests and politicians can’t remain celibate, despite the staggering pandemic numbers of unwanted and unintended pregnancies, and despite the fact that they themselves (and their children) keep coming up pregnant – which probably goes a long way toward explaining why so many of them use birth control, including hormonal birth control, despite their hypocritical call for others to abstain.

These are the folks who would kill, who have killed, to defend a fertilized human egg that has neither divided nor implanted in the uterine wall, but abdicate any and all responsibility for the same child once it’s born. For them, life begins at conception and ends at birth.

These people adamantly reject sexual, marital, and reproductive healthcare recommendations from degreed and accredited American medical experts backed up by literally centuries of scientific advancement and experience, and embrace the palsied iron age godly “wisdom” of an 80-year old holy man in a pointy hat who holds no medical degree, has never entered into any long term sexual relationship let alone marriage and indeed may never have actually had sex with anybody, has never produced children, has never raised a family, lives a privileged and secluded life that has no resemblance to the average American in any way whatsoever, and who claims the moral and ethical high ground despite helming an organization that repeatedly and continually fails to acknowledge or take responsibility for countless heinous acts of systemic abuse of its own children, a man who only last week promoted to senior positions clergy who were directly responsible for perpetuating and enabling and covering up those very same acts, and a man too damned busy with the mote in everybody else’s eye to see the three hundred foot long, thirty foot in diameter, five hundred ton redwood tree lodged up to the rootball in his own eye socket.  Whenever I witness these pointy hat wearing sons of bitches questioning the president’s morality, it makes me want to vomit and I sincerely hope that there is an actual hell of brimstone and ice waiting for these vile fuckers, but I digress yet again.  I also spit on the ground at their feet.

These are the same silly sons of bitches who think that pregnancy resulting from rape is a gift from God.

These are the very same red faced blowhards who, at every single opportunity since the Lyndon Johnson administration, pontificate with relentless fervor against the welfare queens who supposedly do nothing but indiscriminately welp out an endless parade of crack-babies on the taxpayer dole, but now suddenly they’re against birth control.

These are the folks who hold women in utter contempt as fallen sinful creatures, as purveyors of some bullshit made-up concept of original sin, as less than man, as less than corporations, as weak and willful and unclean, but then are afraid that if a couple finds out that the sex of their fetus is female, well, heck they might abort.

And, yes, these are very same folks who think that the government has no authority to require insurance companies to pay for prenatal care or optional ultrasounds in order to ensure the health of a fetus intended to be carried to term, but do think the government should mandate the very same procedure for abortions (Seems to me that if you’re a  Texan, or a Virginian say, and want an expensive ultrasound analysis of your pregnancy for free, even if you’re uninsured (or your insurance company refuses to pay for it), all you have to do is say you’d like an abortion, then “change” your mind after the exam and “decide” do keep the baby – oh well, look at that blurry little blob, you’ve convinced me, Jesus! Be sure to ask for a hardcopy of the picture first, and maybe a video to keep you on the straight and narrow, and maybe some complimentary copies for grandpa and grandma, also how about a cup of coffee and some of those blueberry muffins? Otherwise I might just have to terminate this little bastard. Thanks, cream in the coffee, no sugar. But, as I’m sure you’ve already noted, I digress).

Yes, boggle.

It just boggles my mind.

It boggles my mind that anybody, let alone a woman, would actually propose a law that would require a doctor to jam an ultrasound probe into a woman’s vagina and force her watch video of a blob of tissue that by definition is so underdeveloped that it can’t even be detected by other means, that is so unlike a human being that it requires a specialist to interpret the various parts of the image. It boggles my mind that there is actually a woman on this planet who would actually think for one second that violating any other woman, let alone a traumatized woman who was impregnated through rape or against her will, was in any way whatsoever a moral or ethical or human thing to do.  The horrifying level of gender-hatred and self-loathing it must take to be that woman boggles my mind.

It boggles my mind that a governor, a supposedly educated man charged with the representation of all the citizens of his state – not just the ones with external plumbing or letters of incorporation – would actually even consider signing such an abomination.  And it boggles my mind that anybody, any American, would consider such a man for any elected office, let alone the office of Vice President.

No matter how many times these silly pinched-faced sons of bitches get shot down, they keep coming back. They keep trying to impose their bullshit on the rest of us.

They want us to believe that it isn’t about denying women the right to self-determination.

They want us to believe that it is about the children.

They want us to believe that it isn’t about their religion.

They want us to believe that it’s about the right to life.

Fair enough.

If it’s really about life, about the sanctity of life, if jamming a probe into a woman’s vagina and forcing her to look at her insides in order to exercise her constitutional right under the law is about life,if it’s about that, well then I propose a few amendments.

How about we say that any man attempting to exercise his right to access certain medications, say like Viagra, should have to undergo a thorough and complete medical review to ensure he is healthy enough for extended sexual activity, after all, the natural order of such things, i.e. God’s will, says that he’s not, otherwise he wouldn’t need the man enhancer in the first place would he?  The exam should include an invasive internal ultrasound of his prostrate. Sure jamming a probe up his ass is a completely unnecessary medical procedure, but we can never be too careful when it comes to life, now can we? A man should have to look his prostate in the eye so that he knows what he’s getting into, right?  And, since we’re talking about life here, he should also be tested for all known venereal diseases to ensure the safety of his partner and his potential offspring’s life.  Since certain venereal diseases may be dormant and may take time to manifest and become detectable, there might have to be a lengthy waiting period to ensure total safety of any potential life.

While we’re waiting for the test results, we can require a complete credit check of any man contemplating chemical man enhancement.  After all, should a child result from such artificial congress, the man will have to provide for it – because this is about life and certainly any man who creates life won’t mind if we mandate that he be responsible for it. In fact, this should be a law, knock up a woman and you’re responsible by law, forever, period.  You marry her and you stay married. Period. The cool part is that’s in the Bible.  Hard to argue with the old bible, eh?  Now because this is such a big responsibility, perhaps any man contemplating any activity that might result in life should be forced to view several hours worth of pictures of children, of diapers, of two AM feedings, of chicken pox, and braces, and driving lessons, and last but not least a spread sheet showing the cost to raise a child from implantation to college. 

If a woman must be made aware of the consequences of her own actions, then too should a man. Surely we can all agree to that?

After all, we’re talking about life here, right?

But why stop there?

Life is just getting starting at conception, isn’t it?

And life is sacred. Therefore:

Contemplating a steak? We should make you review a slide show of colorectal cancer and visit a slaughterhouse.  After all, you get sick from eating meat, we might have to pick up your medical bill, that makes your business our business – besides, who’s going to watch out for those kids you made? Better order a salad. Want a drink with your dinner?  Let’s visit an AA meeting first with a side trip to the morgue so that you fully understand the consequences of over indulgence.  Smoke?  No problem, right after you review these microscope slides of diseased lung tissue and visit a couple of emphysema patients.

Want a gun?  Well, then, since this is about the safety of children, of life, you’ll need to review cases of firearm related deaths that happen in the US each year. Now for simplicity’s sake, let’s say you will be only be required to look at a picture of every single child killed by gun violence for the previous twelve months, that’s actual real live children who have been born and are actual living breathing human beings – in 2007, for example, that was three thousand and forty two so you’d better get started.  You’ll need to do that for each weapon you intend to purchase. Because, damn it, this is about protecting life.  For a each additional gun, you can also look at pictures of the doctors shot down by folks who believe in the right to life.

Want to wage war? No problem, first you’ll need to serve in the military on the frontlines, let’s say twelve months in Afghanistan, next you can review pictures of battlefield casualties and dead civilians, and then we’ll be taking a trip to Dover so you can help carry the coffins of returning soldiers down the cargo ramp of the C-17’s, then you can start writing letters to their wives and sweethearts and parents and their children.  Oh, and as long as we’re talking about war, let’s review what you’re going to need to do to use those “enhanced” interrogation techniques…

And finally,

Before attending your next Sunday service, you’ll need to review the church’s history of genocide, complicity in the Holocaust, pedophilia, molestation, and rape. 

Since we’re talking about the children, I mean.

Happy Apostrophe Optional Day To You, Good Sir!

Parts of this post appeared previously on President’s day in 2010.  Yes, I am recycling. Because I’m all environmentally conscious like that.  If the earth goes to hell, it won’t because I wasted electrons. You’re welcome. Make sure Al Gore spells my name correctly on the Nobel Prize  – Jim

 

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Presidents Day?

Is this a stupid holiday or what?

We should call today what it is, Just Another Random Fucking Reason To Close the Post Office Day.

Whose dumb idea was this anyway? It was Congress, wasn’t it?  (no way! They couldn’t be that stupid. But I digress rhetorically).

No, really, considering the sheer level of contempt most Americans have for their government these days, not to mention specifically and in particular the president, we’re really going to celebrate something called president’s day? Presidents Day? Seriously?

What are the Presidents Day traditions? Do we burn down our garages while deep frying a turkey full of firecrackers? Is there animal sacrifice involved? Do we put up colored lights? Gift wrap fudgesickles? Paint eggs? Shoot guns into the air and light our farts? (that would be my choice, just saying) Should we maybe nail some guy to a cross and poke him with sticks? Burn witches and dress up in costumes based on the latest Spielberg movie? Is there a corned beef and leprechauns involved? Shouldn’t there be some kind of sporting event and a parade in New York? What? I’m a little hazy on what this day is supposed to be about. Does Hallmark even make a card for President’s Day?  Would it be like The holiday season? You know, Christmas cards for right thinking true actual Americans, Chanukah cards for the Jews, Generic Festivus Card for the non-believers, money orders for the Scientologists, and like that?  Are there Liberal and Conservative President’s Day cards? If not, somebody is seriously missing out on a lucrative business opportunity. 

Like The holidays, do people get pissy if you don’t call it after their particular thing? P-Day? Ooooh, I’m so offended! Offended, I tell you! This is the day that we celebrate the magical virgin birth of little baby George Washington who was delivered unto America in a cloud of sparkly Angel farts by Jesus! By God, this day isn’t about celebrating Lincoln. It’s not about Taft. It’s not Grover Cleveland day! It’s Washington! George Reagan Jefferson Washington! Why have [insert generic political object of derision/Enemy of America™ here] declared war on little baby George Washington? Why?!

What’s the greeting? Every holiday has a salutation of some kind. Merry Christmas, Kiss Me I’m Irish lets go back to my place and have drunken leprechaun sex, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, Happy Easter (or as it’s known around here, Yikes! Zombies!).  What’s the salutation for Presidents’ Day? Personally, I use “Blow it out your ass, Bobo,” but then again I use that greeting pretty much every day. If it catches on, I’ll be rich from the greeting card royalties alone.

Ask yourself something, how can this be a real holiday? Folks, think about it, there isn’t a even a pie. 

That’s right, all real American holidays worth closing the Post Office for come with pie.  Presidents Day? No pie.

I think I’ve made my point here.

Presidents Day, it’s ridiculous.

Now, of course, originally, we celebrated George Washington’s birthday. 

Because, Americans being Americans, they declared their independence from England, told the Crown to shove off, spit on the idea of aristocracy and royalty and the divine right of kings, and made all men equal – and then immediately set about elevating their own set of icons to worship.

Starting with George.

I guess I can dig that.  George Washington was the father of the United States, born in Texas, he was a personal friend of Jesus, he threw a silver dollar across the Mississippi, he wrestled a polar bear when he was only three wearing nothing but a coonskin cap and freed the slaves at the Alamo, and then he fought off the Nazis after they bombed Pearl Harbor – or something. 

OK, I’m not sure exactly what George did, but he’s Sarah Palin’s hero and that’s good enough for me.

But that wasn’t good enough for everybody else, oh no.

Pretty soon, people wanted the day off for their favorite President too.

So then we had Abraham Lincoln’s Birthday. That was fun, people dressed up in stovepipe hats and went to see a play…

But pretty soon people were talking about taking the day off for Thomas Jefferson’s Birthday too.

And then there was Benjamin Franklin’s birthday - he was never the President, but he’s on the money and that confused a lot of people and besides he discovered electricity and Pop Tarts and that ought to be worth a couple days of drinking and tailgating and some kind of bowl game. 

Pretty soon folks were talking about taking Grover Cleveland’s wedding anniversary off and going up to Big Bear for a four day weekend.

Then somebody came up with the idea of Vice President’s day, and Speaker of the House Day, and Take Your Press Secretary To Lunch Day, and Spend A Night In The Motel 6 With Your Congressional Page Day.

By the end of the 1960’s, things were just totally out of hand – there were so many holidays that the 60’s seemed like one long party. That’s where hippies and venereal disease came from. The 60’s were not, in fact, a cultural revolution, it just seemed that way because everybody had been basically drunk for a decade (which also explains the hygiene issues).

So around about 1971, Congress sobered up long enough to create Presidents Day.

Technically, it’s supposed to be Washington’s Birthday but saying that out loud started the whole “what about my president!” thing all over again.  So we just call it Presidents Day. Or President’s Day. Or maybe Presidents’ Day – nobody is really sure what to do about that stupid apostrophe.

The problem with “Presidents Day” is that it is supposed to be a day we all take off and ruminate on the greatness of our leaders here in the US.  And sure, that sounds terrific in principle, but in reality there were some real duds in the ol’ Presidential line up.

Take Marty Van Buren:

Give this guy a red rubber nose and we’re talking Bozo the Clown here.  And that’s how a lot of people felt about him.  In the 1830’s there was basically no federal banking regulation and Wall Street just sort of did whatever it pleased – including handing out huge loans to people who couldn’t pay them back, ever.  A massive financial crisis resulted.  Marty was a rich elitist and liked to live the highlife, you can imagine what the average voter thought of him by the end of his first term. 

Fortunately, thanks to Congress and modern laws, nothing like that can happen these days.

Or how about John Tyler:

Tyler ended up in the White House by default.  President William Henry Harrison gave the longest inaugural speech in history – in the pouring rain, in freezing temperatures, without a coat or a hat – and as a result he had the shortest presidency of all time when he died from pneumonia less than a month later.  Hey, I’m all about term limits, but that seems a little extreme. Then again, what if presidents did come with an expiration date? (better yet, what if congressmen did? But I digress. Again).

John Tyler, who was Harrison’s Vice President, was sworn in as the booby prize.  Tyler was so widely despised that he is often confused for George W. Bush by historians.  His entire cabinet resigned in protest of his policies. The House tried to impeach him and he was actually thrown unceremoniously out of his own party.  After he was eventually evicted from the Oval Office, he joined the Confederacy and died during the Civil War as a Representative of the CSA House. 

Personally, I think the guy missed his calling, he could have made a killing as the “before” picture for any number of laxative manufacturers.

And do we really want to celebrate James Buchanan?

It’s creepy uncle Fester! 

What? Nobody owned a comb back in the 1800’s?

Buchanan, besides being the inspiration for Donald Trump’s hair stylist, basically caused the Civil War.

Be sure to raise a couple of brewskies in his memory today, won’t you?

 

How about Rutherford B. Hayes?

The only President with a more sissified first name than Millard Fillmore (seriously, Millard? Were his parents just trying to get him beat up every single day of his life?).

Hayes lost the popular vote, but won the Presidency in court – thank God that kind of shit doesn’t go on any more. 

His inauguration was actually held in secret, for fear that he’d be assassinated if he appeared in public for his swearing in.  You know, I’m not a superstitious man, but I’d consider that a somewhat less than auspicious start to any administration.

Wait, it gets better, his wife was known as Lemonade Lucy because she banned alcohol from the White House – funny, but you’d think she’d drink pretty much continuously if she had to sleep with this guy. C’mon, Lucy, give The Beard some sugar!

Then there’s Warren Harding:

Widely regarded as “The Lost Munster,” Harding is considered by most American historians as probably the only US president who can’t look at George W. Bush and say, “Well, at least I didn’t suck as much as that guy.”

He was easily corrupted, a serial adulterer, an astoundingly horrible leader, and a worse public speaker – in fact, this guy was so bad at talking out loud, that he made Dan Quayle look like the president of Toastmasters.

Also, he was the guy behind the Teapot Dome scandal.

He died in office and the only reason anybody even noticed was because shit started getting better.

 

How about this guy?

I’m going to be honest with you here, I think William Jefferson Clinton is the perfect role model for an American holiday.

No, seriously.

Frankly I don’t think it gets any more American than this guy.  Left, Right, independent, c’mon there isn’t a male in all of America that doesn’t secretly fantasize about getting a hummer from an amply cushioned cute intern in the Oval Office. I’m mean if you’re not getting free gratuitous sex, what’s the point of being President in the first place? It’s not like there’s pie. Sure I hate him for being that guy who caused my 80 year old mother to use the word “blowjob” in a sentence, but really, what better way to celebrate President’s day than we watch the game, we eat junk food and swap stories of our sexual conquests that may or may not be, er, well, embellished? Hell, yeah, we’ll drink too much shitty lite beer and fight in public with our spouses. And afterward we’ll have a cigar and (wink) not have sex with that woman (wink wink). Again.

Now that’s a holiday tradition most Americans could get behind (or in front of, depending on your fancy, but I digress).

 

And finally, how about this pudknocker?

If you call it Presidents Day, then you have to celebrate all of the presidents.

 

 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go stuff the turkey with firecrackers before putting it in the deep fryer.

Happy George Washington’s Birthday, folks.