Maybe some of us are just a little fucking sick of hearing "But Saddam was a bad guy!" trotted out in place of actual answers to the cold, hard, bitter questions of how to best un-fuck the situation Bush's PR stunt war has forced on many millions of people.
No, surely, we don't believe that Iraq was better under Saddam. We got the memo about him being a bad man and all; in fact, President Bush reminded us of that fact during the White House Press Corps Kindergarten Visitation Hour we saw on TV last week.
Noble intentions and star-spangled abstracts be fucked; there's a situation on the ground that needs pragmatic solutions NOW, and we're still dealing with this "But Saddam was a bad guy!" horseshit, as though all the evil in Iraq was magically bound up in Saddam's corporeal form and only liberals couldn't see his glowing red eyes.
So what's the current balance of collective misery in Iraq right now? Saddam's gone, true, but most of the grimy-souled little tools that ran his torture chambers and updated his Rolodexes are still at large, waiting for a spot in whatever government eventually survives to take them in. Large portions of the country are smoldering or already aflame with a dozen different flavors of ethnic, religious, and nationalistic unrest.
Unfortunately, we live in a world where kicking a vile man and his brats out of power can still leave the people of his country unequivocally screwed over. That's reality; disaster is a very distinct possibility when reality is completely ignored in favor of Beautiful Theory.
If the general state of terror and bloodshed in the post-Saddam era comes to equal or exceed that of Saddam's rule, what have we fucking accomplished?
Apparently, it's currently unpatriotic to expect actual results and genuine accountability from a crew of symbol-fucking crooks who'd rather protect America from porn and head shops than, say, dirty bombs in container ships. Apparently, this aggravates some of us, and that of course must mean that we don't think Saddam was a bad man.
Wasn't SATURN 3 the movie about a robot trying to rape a woman?
Yes, with Farrah Fawcett, Harvey Keitel, and Kirk Douglas. Weird Factor: 11 out of 10 and still rising, 24 years later.
As for your proposals-- dude, you have gone tangential with a vengeance. Who, exactly, is in your crosshairs?
Cheers,
SL
A.R. Yngve wrote:
What DO people like Martin Amis or Chris Farah say when the Asimo robots come marching into society? Will they pretend that robots do not exist, ignore that robots have a direct precedent -- indeed, direct inspiration -- in SF literature? Then it's they who're living in fantasy land.
An odd assertion, considering that Martin Amis wrote the script for a sci-fi flick by the name of Saturn 3:
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0079285/
...and probably isn't quite as ignorant of robots as you might think he is.
Read Martin's memoir Experience sometime to find out about Kingsley's adoration of the Terminator films, as well as his crush on Linda Hamilton. Martin can be a putz, but he's never been as ignorant and vituperative on the subject of science fiction as, say, a dipshit like Chris Farah.
The day after the Super Bowl (which I watched, though I apparently blinked for the Breast Seen 'Round the World) I was stuck listening to talk radio for a brief interval with my mom. On came a promo for that night's newscast on a local TV station-- "We've been here on the streets in South Carolina, asking mothers with small children what they think of the Super Bowl half-time show scandal! Find out what they said tonight at five!"
South Carolina? I live in Minnesota.
And "mothers with small children?"
Jesus wept.
But... but what do the baby koalas think? And how about the kindergarteners? Quick, what's cuter than kindergarteners or baby koalas, and what does it think about the half-time show?
I would dearly love to see new horizons opening in manned space exploration-- hell, I've been ready to go myself since I was five, though my technical credentials qualify me for the positions of a) ballast, b) an ablative heat-tile, or c) the guy that the blood-sucking cloud creature kills in the pre-credits sequence.
I've just finished Kim Stanley Robinson's Green Mars, and my girlfriend's copy of Blue Mars cannot get into my twitchy little hands soon enough. I'm a Fan of Space Exploration in that deep-down, squidgy, emotional, Star Wars nut way.
But.
I would have been suspicious of these alleged Moon/Mars plans no matter who announced them. Bush I, Clinton, Gore, the disembodied soul of Stanley Weinbaum... anyone, if the announcement came in such a fashion. Out of the blue, in an election year, with far-reaching commitments and consequences long after Bush blows town even if he does get a second term. All the credit for the "vision," and none of the responsibility for keeping the very expensive, highly vulnerable project alive over the next 10-15 years? Give me a break. This "plan" is a fucking pick-up line, a honey trap for hypothetical suckers who must be gooshy about spaceflight and bad at math.
Not mentioning the Incipient Golden Age of Space Travel during the SOTU is just icing on the cake.
I wonder what other glories from past administrations were in consideration for the role of Killer Campaign Talking Point? Reconstructing Germany? Eradicating smallpox? Fighting the Barbary Pirates? Forcing Parliament to repeal the fucking Stamp Act?
Man, I'm pumping out nothing but resentment this afternoon. I'm sorry. Scott will go drink a tall mint-flavored wuss coffee now, and refer to himself in the third person as he slinks out.
They can refuse to structure pay scales to go home millionaires, and leaving their workers penniless.
A few years back, I read a newspaper article about a gravel company owner who realized tens of millions of dollars in profits from the sale of his company. He kept a relatively small chunk for himself to retire on, and he split the rest up among all of the workers at the company, pro-rated based on their years of service. Some of his old hands became minor millionaires. I wish I could offer a direct citation, but I didn't think to keep the article.
Anyhow, half of the piece was devoted to the cries of amazement from analysts and business-types, at how odd and unusual it was for a company owner to actually reward creatures as lowly as the people who'd done all the work over the years.
I think that's one of the things that irks me the most-- the pernicious idea that owners and stockholders are owed damn near everything, the customers are owed a bit, and the market requires that the rank-and-file employees can go fuck themselves.
I'm surprised that someone hasn't already popped in with a comment along the lines of "Well, if you care so much about her condition, why don't you send her some money?" After all, why would we want to fight the disease itself on a national level when private citizens can just stretch themselves ever thinner to help treat the symptoms?
Sigh.
Shit, I am a capitalist, I own a small business, and reading about things like this (and Wal-Mart's fifteen millionth crime against human dignity) makes my spine ache. Sorta like Teresa's tin-foil hat comment... I deeply resent the way the myopic greedfuckers (and their myrmidons) behind Wal-Mart, Enron, etc. make me feel revulsion at so much as handling the same currency they do.
Which director has won the most Oscars on Tattoine?
Fellini!
But who do the Jawa auteurs always turn to for musical scores for their films?
I'm thinking no more caffeine for you tonight, Niall. ;)
Launching boldly into a tangent, is anyone out there thinking of going to MiniCon this year? My better half and I are pondering it... I've lived in Minnesota all my life, but still haven't been to one of these (though I've been at Convergence since 2000). I know hardly anyone on the Minicon/Mnstf side of the fannish tracks, and I don't quite know what to expect.
The Moon is a Harsh Mistress is a fantastically fun read, but it's also proof that an environment as well as a character can be a Straw Man.
This pretty much gets the last word:
http://rinkworks.com/bookaminute/b/heinlein.mistress.shtml
This is not to say that I didn't find "The Roads Must Roll" a heap of good fun; I read it for the first time this past summer in SFWA's Hall of Fame Vol. I collection.
Wonky science doesn't necessarily derail a story for me, nor outdated science. I adore the cork and leather spacesuits of late 30s and early 40s stories, and Stanley Weinbaum's "A Martian Odyssey" is a joy unto itself. The thing about most of Heinlein's short fiction is that he's got other balls in the air that are still worth the reader's time even if the hard science aspect falls to the ground.
We're willing to postulate FTL travel, time travel and antigravity, why not also be willing to postulate rolling roads if they help us tell a good story?
It's not the overall audacity/unbelievability of any given SF premise that's the problem, it's just that too much explanation, and too close an examination of how the Prime Doohickey works, can derail suspension of disbelief.
If everything's left abstract (save for a description of what the device does), the (sane) reader can simply take it for granted that the device does its job and move on from there.
However, if the author halts the narrative for an in-depth explanation of how Bifurcated Gabblecocks make Atomic Underarm Deodorant not only plausible but essential to future life, it's only fair for astute readers to say, "Wait a minute, you couldn't bifurcate a fucking gabblecock even in 1939, you lousy bastard!"
"one of the most extensive investigations of domestic terrorism since the Oklahoma City bombing"
But that's just it, Yehudit-- the key phrase is "investigations into domestic terrorism," emphasis mine.
Individuals merely suspected of involvement with Islamic terrorist groups are flushed down the memory hole while Bush Administration near-humans do cartwheels to explain why they don't ever have to answer to anyone, ever, ever about how they make the Bad Men Go Away.
Yet our own homegrown species of terrorists and wannabe terrorists (At the moment, the "militant underground left" in the US has nothing on white supremacists and anti-UN, anti-"guvmint" come-to-Jesus-types) continue to celebrate a lifestyle revolving around the open acquisition and frequent display of huge amounts of firepower. They cherish the utterances of twits like G. Gordon Liddy, famous for reminding his listeners to always shoot federal agents in the head because they wear body armor on their torsos.
Meanwhile, the FBI publicly announces that it's looking for people using almanacs in a suspicious fashion.
Can you see how some of us might become a bit aggravated at the highly amusing blind spots, exceptions, and double-standards that seem to have evolved for some flavors of potential terrorism, and how funny it is that the people who aren't rotting in holes in the ground are all avowedly Christian, avowedly right-wing "reg'lar fellas?"
I mean, if it's just to be the "War on Crazy Shitbag Islamic Militants," then so be it-- they're a huge detriment to their religion, to their cultures, to the stability of the world, and to the welfare of millions of people. Let it be open season on al-Queda and the Taliban until they're nothing but funny words in history books, fate willing.
But if it's the "War on (All) Terror," why aren't all would-be terrorists getting the Gitmo treatment and having their rights as citizens arbitrarily suspended?
If there's no qualitative or quantitative difference in their alleged intentions, why are the would-be sodium cyanide bombers (very heroic of our Noble Champions of the Pale Races, that device) getting lawyers, phone calls, contact with family, etc. and all the other privileges not given to Jose Padilla?
Cheers,
SL
Scott, it's time we wake up and smell the Sal Ammoniac. Or the Salieri Almanac, but that's another thread.
Maybe they would be wiser to keep their WMDs simple, Xopher. Disguised as nuts, perhaps.
I mean, a sodium cyanide almond-- ack!
Hmmm. What about a sodium cyanide Armagnac? Just the thing for taking out the liquorati.
Hey, I can't possibly be a terrorist! I can't even spell "almanac."
I'm just so glad they managed to catch the fuckers before they could build the ultimate weapon-- a Sodium Cyanide Alamanac.
Not everyone who reads Electrolite is a writer or editor, and sufficient amounts of slack should be given if you care to have a diverse discussion.
I admire yout sentiment, Ted, and I share it-- to a degree. But there is a difference between cutting slack to the rhetorically ungifted/inexperienced and cutting slack to a smirking belligerent. "Having a diverse discussion" should by no means require us all to roll over and diplomatically eat smarm from a guy who calls himself "Trogdor the Burninator."
The problem (for the Dems) that must not be discounted in '04 is the number of people who would rather feel personally virtuous about where their vote goes than join a coalition effort to vote for the Clearly Less Awful Candidate, (which I think it's safe to say will be Dean) as though their ideologically pure ceremonial votes vanish into the ether, leaving their casters miraculously shorn of any responsibility for the outcome of the election.
"Don't blame me... I wrote in Harlan Ellison."
"Don't blame me... I voted Monster Raving Loony Party."
"Don't blame me... I voted Scylla/Charybdis on the Eat Ulysses Ticket."
"Don't blame me... I voted for Nader."
It's undeniable that the thug branch of the GOP won the '00 election by chicanery, but the question is-- how many additional votes would have been required to provide a safety margin that would have made that chicanery irrelevant? I think the answer is "not too damn many."
But then, a lot of people cleverer than I have been all over this issue in this thread and others. The important question for '04 is, is anyone going to listen?
| Year | Number of comments posted |
|---|---|
| 2004 | 15 |
| 2003 | 56 |
Total: 71 comments. View all these comments on a single page.
The most recent 20 comments posted to Electrolite by Scott Lynch:
Show all comments by Scott Lynch.