Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
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Paris - Sonic Jihad
David Bazan - Fewer Moving Parts
Todd Steed and the Suns of Phere - Heartbreak and Duct Tape
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Mustard - Eureka Grande
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Location: Illinois, United States

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Resumes
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone - J.K. Rowling
My Secret - Frank Warren
Persepolis - Marjane Satrapi

08 June 2005

I'm Out Like a Fat Kid in Dodge Ball

So I'm leaving now. Well, in a few hours. This will most likely be my last post until sometime in early July. My wife and I are leaving the country for nearly a month, first for a work trip to a conference, and then on to Vienna, Venice, Munich, Prague, Krakow and London. Everyone be good, try not to blog too much (I'll have a lot of catching up to do when I return), pray for impeachment, and enjoy life in all its splendor. I'll be writing it all down and taking lots of pictures, so you'll hear all about it soon enough. Zalm, we'll have to grab a beer next time you're in town. Adam, your CDs are on the way. Um, I guess that's it. Catch you next month kiddos.

Last Minute Comics Blogging


By the time I get back from Europe, the Downing Street Memo will be a distant memory in the collective American mind. Or we could all learn from the Ukrainians and revolt. Except, oh wait, it's too hot outside. And The Simpsons is on. Guess we'll just have to let it go.

Screaming Memes

So Zalm tagged me in this little game. Basically I’m supposed to pick five professions from the list below and finish the sentence. And I believe I get to add professions if I choose. So I added professional wrestler. Now can you dig it?

If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an inn-keeper…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be an astronaut…
If I could be a world famous blogger…
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world…
If I could be married to any current famous political figure…
If I could be a service member…
If I could be a photographer…
If I could be a philanthropist…
If I could be a rap artist…
If I could be a child actor…
If I could be a secret agent…
If I could be a comedian/comedienne…
If I could be a priest…
If I could be a radio announcer…
If I could be a phlebotomist…
If I could be Paris Hilton’s stylist…
If I could be the CEO of Microsoft…
If I could be a movie producer…
If I could be a laser hair removal specialist…
If I could be a dog groomer…
If I could be a bicycle repairman…
If I could be a Lumberjack…
If I could be chauffer for Michael W. Smith…
If I could be a Head Football Coach…
If I could be an insurance adjuster…
If I could be funeral home director…
If I could be a bus driver…
If I could be me…
If I could be Secretary of State…
If I could be an assassin…
If I could be a whore…
If I could be a game developer…
If I could be a vampire slayer…
If I could be a nerf herder…
If I could be a professional wrestler…


Anyways, here goes:

If I could be a phlebotomist…I’d quickly learn what my profession means, so I wouldn’t have to Google it and feel ashamed.

If I could be a Lumberjack…I’d cut down trees. I’d eat my lunch. I’d go to the lavatory. On Wednesdays I’d go shoppin' and have buttered scones for tea.

If I could be a rap artist…I wouldn’t, because Sage Francis already said it, and much better.

If I could be a professional wrestler…I’d finish off opponents with my patented finishing maneuver, the dreaded genital jihad.

If I could be me… I'd sing and dance (la la-la hey, la la-la hey, la la-la).

OK then. So now I’m supposed to tag three people. I don’t think my wife, Meg or Liz have played yet, so get to it.

06 June 2005

James Dobson Has Officially Lost His Mind

For a while now, I've harbored suspicians that James Dobson is out of touch with reality. Anyone who vocally criticises an animated talking sponge for promoting tolerance while remaining silent about a gay male prostitute sneaking into the White House press corp without a proper background check has something seriously wrong with him.

But yesterday I received my confirmation in the form of an anti-spanking Web site. In an essay at the site, the very insightful Chris Dugan deconstructs a passage from Dobson's book, The Strong-Willed Child (sorry Jimmy, I'm not linking to your book). I suppose I could just cut and paste some snippets, but really, you should read the entire thing. Dugan's analysis is just spot on. (Just to make things a bit easier to read, excerpts from Dobson's book are in bold; Dugan's comments are in regular font.):

In his best-selling book, "The Strong-Willed Child," child-rearing author James Dobson describes how he abused his family's pet dachshund, Siggie:

"Please don't misunderstand me. Siggie is a member of our family and we love him dearly. And despite his anarchistic nature, I have finally taught him to obey a few simple commands. However, we had some classic battles before he reluctantly yielded to my authority.

"The greatest confrontation occurred a few years ago when I had been in Miami for a three-day conference. I returned to observe that Siggie had become boss of the house while I was gone. But I didn't realize until later that evening just how strongly he felt about his new position as Captain.

"At eleven o'clock that night, I told Siggie to go get into his bed, which is a permanent enclosure in the family room. For six years I had given him that order at the end of each day, and for six years Siggie had obeyed.

"On this occasion, however, he refused to budge. You see, he was in the bathroom, seated comfortably on the furry lid of the toilet seat. That is his favorite spot in the house, because it allows him to bask in the warmth of a nearby electric heater..."


[Chris's commentary]: One of the greatest "secrets" of nonpunitive parenting (or pet-keeping) is "don't sweat the small stuff." If the dog is comfortable sitting on the toilet seat by the heater, why not let him sit there (so long as no one has to use the toilet at that particular moment)? Of course, for the neurotically-rigid James Dobson, sweating each and every little trivial, easily-avoidable non-issue and turning it into a battle of wills is the pure essense of what child discipline is all about. He writes:

"When I told Sigmund to leave his warm seat and go to bed, he flattened his ears and slowly turned his head toward me. He deliberately braced himself by placing one paw on the edge of the furry lid, then hunched his shoulders, raised his lips to reveal the molars on both sides, and uttered his most threatening growl. That was Siggie's way of saying. "Get lost!"

"I had seen this defiant mood before, and knew there was only one way to deal with it. The ONLY way to make Siggie obey is to threaten him with destruction. Nothing else works. I turned and went to my closet and got a small belt to help me "reason" with Mr. Freud."


[Commentary]: What Dobson never explains to his readers is WHY it was so essential that the dog sleep where Dobson wanted him to sleep instead of where the dog wanted to sleep. Dobson is behaving like a toddler who throws a violent tantrum if his "bedtime ritual" isn't adhered to down to the slightest detail. Making Siggie go to sleep on command where and when Dobson wants him to has been part of this overgrown toddler's bedtime ritual for six years. Now, Siggie is interfering with a small detail of this bedtime ritual of Dobson's by wanting to sleep somewhere else which is warmer and more comfortable. So Dobson, true to his infantile level of emotional maturity, throws a violent tantrum:

"What developed next is impossible to describe. That tiny dog and I had the most vicious fight ever staged between man and beast. I fought him up one wall and down the other, with both of us scratching and clawing and growling and swinging the belt. I am embarrassed by the memory of the entire scene. Inch by inch I moved him toward the family room and his bed. As a final desperate maneuver, Siggie backed into the corner for one last snarling stand. I eventually got him to bed, only because I outweighed him 200 to 12!"

[Commentary]: This is one sick puppy, and I don't mean the dog, either. Dobson is OBSESSED with control. I suspect that this stems from the punitive upbringing he endured as a young child (and which he now praises, with unintended irony, for making him what he is today). Now that he is a grownup, and too old to spank, he is determined to get everything HIS way, by golly! He is a 200 pound, verbally articulate version of the "strong-willed" toddlers whom he always exhorts parents to whip into submission "with a belt or switch" because "pain is a marvelous purifier." Dobson is walking proof of how just how badly a spanked child can turn out. The fact that parents like this exist in the world is an excellent argument for why all forms of corporal punishment should be abolished forthwith.

Just in case the more slow-witted among his readers fail to grasp the obvious parallel between his relationship with his dog and the type of parenting advice the man as become rich and famous by dispensing, Dobson then lays it explicitly on the line:

"But this is not a book about the discipline of dogs; there is an important moral to my story that is highly relevant to the world of children. Just as surely as a dog will occasionally challenge the authority of his leaders, so will a little child -- only more so." (emphasis Dobson's)

Dobson says that his Focus On the Family organization is engaged in a "new civil war" in which the "forces of Light" (child hitters, homophobes, Operation Rescue, would-be censors, etc.) are pitted against the "forces of Darkness" (antispankers, gays and lesbians, Planned Parenthood, free speech advocates, etc.). This man treats dog ownership as a war, he treats childrearing as a war; indeed he appears to see his entire life as a war.

Dobson even views some crying babies as "little dictators" engaged in a bid to control and enslave their parents, and advises parents not to let the child "win" by picking up the child and soothing it. He warns that:

"[I]t is possible to create a fussy, demanding baby by rushing to pick him up every time he utters a whimper or sigh. Infants are fully capable of learning to manipulate their parents through a process called reinforcement, whereby any behavior that produces a pleasant result will tend to recur. Thus, a healthy baby can keep his mother hopping around his nursery twelve hours a day (or night) by simply forcing air past his sandpaper larynx."

[Commentary]: This is a classic example of a neurotic projecting his own unquenchable symbolic cravings onto babies who are simply trying to get their needs met in the only way available to them, by crying. Indeed, Dobson himself is an excellent example of how babies turn out whose needs are not met. Because HE was not picked up when he cried as a baby, he finds crying babies intolerable. He perceives THEIR needs as insatiable and urges parents to just ignore them and let them cry themselves into silent, exhausted despair. The genuine emotional needs of babies, unlike the symbolic pseudo-needs of neurotics, are not bottomless pits which can never fill. Babies whose needs are met are LESS demanding and troublesome than babies whose needs aren't met, not more so. For proof, one need only observe cultures in which babies are carried everywhere next to the mothers's body in slings and their needs for feeding or attention instantly gratified on demand. According to Dobson, these should be incredibly "spoiled" cranky babies, but they aren't. (For more about this, see Jean Liedloff's excellent book, "The Continuum Concept").

Dobson's parenting style CREATES the sorts of problems for which he then claims to offer the only solution. He bullies children, and when they resist his oppressive, degrading treatment, he uses their "defiance" to further justify his behavior. He sees the family as "a heirarchy of strength" in which the one with the greatest physical might and the strongest will prevails. His books are full of military metaphors in which children "marshall their forces," and "launch" every "weapon" in their "arsenals," while parents are advised to "draw a line in the sand" and to "win and win decisively" whenever a child "sticks their big hairy toe over the line" because "the child has made it clear that he is looking for a fight and his parents would be wise not to disappoint him." In fact, it is Dobson himself who starts out looking for a fight by his dysfunctional need for total control, (even to the point of dictating precisely where and when his dog sleeps at night). Yet, whenever his children can't stand it anymore and mount a valiant, hopeless bid to resist his domestic tyranny, he blames it on the children, claiming that:

"Perhaps this tendency toward self-will is the essence of 'original sin' which has infiltrated the human family. It certainly explains why I place such stress on the proper response to willful defiance during childhood, for that rebellion can plant the seeds of personal disaster."

[Commentary]: The "rebellion" which Dobson blames on the child's original sinfulness is actually just the flip side of Dobson's own authoritarian, Parent-Wins-Child-Loses, control-obsessed approach to parenting. Totalitarian oppressive behavior by dictators breeds insurgency - coercive bullying behavior by parents breeds "rebellion." Dobson CREATES this sort of behavior in children, and then uses it as proof that still more authoritarian bullying is the only solution to the "rebellion" by "strong-willed" children which his tyranny provoked in the first place.

Dobson uses the same weapons which third world dictators utilize to break the wills of pro-democracy dissidents: pain and fear. The major difference is that when dictators torture and intimidate anyone who resists THEIR tyranny, THEY don't claim to be doing it for their victims' own good as an act of love. Dictators torture and intimidate because doing so meets THEIR needs. So does James Dobson.
This guy's kids are going to be in therapy for the rest of their lives. And I don't mean Chris Dugan's.

05 June 2005

Remembering September 11

So I was reading thru the blogs of some Tennesseans over the weekend and came across the blog of Todd, a University of Tennessee student. I found one of his posts interesting, given that I finished reading Baghdad Burning: Girl Blog from Iraq not too long ago (much more on that later).

Just to give a little background, Todd is a Republican from Knoxville, Tennessee. Riverbend of Baghdad Burning is a female Iraqi living in Baghdad. Her blog is perhaps the most insightful commentary you'll find about life in Baghdad since the U.S. invasion and occupation of Iraq (you should go to her site now and read it from start to finish; I'm dead serious). Before the invasion, she was a computer programmer who made just as much money as her male coworkers. She was a college student who dressed as she wanted and safely walked the streets of her city as she pleased. After the invasion, Riverbend was unemployed and unable to attend school. She couldn’t walk the streets without two male companions. And venturing outside without a skirt and headscarf was to risk kidnapping or death at the hands of rising hordes of Islamic fundamentalists. Evidently that's what George Bush is talking about when he says that freedom is on the march for democracy's struggle.

Anyways, sorry for ranting. What I really wanted to do is juxtapose Todd's post about forgetting September 11 with Riverbend's post from Baghdad Burning on pretty much the same topic.

From Todd:

This is (from) an extremely good article by the famed Fox News Economic Analyst Neil Cavuto.

"It's funny how only a few short years erase the memories, how we revert to the good images and forget the bad. It's almost as if Sept. 11 never happened. News organizations refuse to show the brutality of that day to this day. We gloss over the issue of terror with sanitized snapshots of a couple of skyscrapers on fire. We never show the sequence of events that led to that fire or the fallout from that fire. We dare not show planes ramming into those buildings or people jumping from those buildings."

Neil Cavuto

I agree whole-heartedly with what he is saying and why he is saying it. I too have found myself forgetting about what happened that day. A day that I will never forget and attempt to not let anyone else forget. We stand at a threshold now. A threshold that could lead us to the top of prosperity, or bury us in the sand of fear. I believe that we as a nation need to cross this threshold. We need to start remembering what is truly important to us. We need to unite so that something like September 11, 2001 never happens again.
From Riverbend:

September 11 was a tragedy. Not because 3,000 Americans died… but because 3,000 humans died. I was reading about the recorded telephone conversations of victims and their families on September 11. I thought it was… awful, and perfectly timed. Just when people are starting to question the results and incentives behind this occupation, they are immediately bombarded with reminders of September 11. Never mind Iraq had nothing to do with it.

I get emails constantly reminding me of the tragedy of September 11 and telling me how the "Arabs" brought all of this upon themselves. Never mind it was originally blamed on Afghanistan (who, for your information, aren’t Arabs).

I am constantly reminded of the 3,000 Americans who died that day… and asked to put behind me the 8,000 worthless Iraqis we lost to missiles, tanks and guns.

People marvel that we’re not out in the streets, decking the monstrous, khaki tanks with roses and jasmine. They wonder why we don’t crown the hard, ugly helmets of the troops with wreaths of laurel. They question why we mourn our dead instead of gratefully offering them as sacrifices to the Gods of Democracy and Liberty. They wonder why we’re bitter.

But, I *haven’t* forgotten…

I remember February 13, 1991. I remember the missiles dropped on Al-Amriyah shelter- a civilian bomb shelter in a populated, residential area in Baghdad. Bombs so sophisticated, that the first one drilled through to the heart of the shelter and the second one exploded inside. The shelter was full of women and children- boys over the age of 15 weren’t allowed. I remember watching images of horrified people clinging to the fence circling the shelter, crying, screaming, begging to know what had happened to a daughter, a mother, a son, a family that had been seeking protection within the shelter’s walls.

I remember watching them drag out bodies so charred, you couldn’t tell they were human. I remember frantic people, running from corpse to corpse, trying to identify a loved-one… I remember seeing Iraqi aid workers, cleaning out the shelter, fainting with the unbearable scenes inside. I remember the whole area reeked with the smell of burnt flesh for weeks and weeks after.

I remember visiting the shelter, years later, to pay my respects to the 400+ people who died a horrible death during the small hours of the morning and seeing the ghostly outlines of humans plastered on the walls and ceilings.

I remember a family friend who lost his wife, his five-year-old daughter, his two-year-old son and his mind on February 13.

I remember the day the Pentagon, after making various excuses, claimed it had been a 'mistake'.

I remember 13 years of sanctions, backed firmly by the US and UK, in the name of WMD nobody ever found. Sanctions so rigid, we had basic necessities, like medicine, on waiting lists for months and months, before they were refused. I remember chemicals like chlorine, necessary for water purification, being scrutinized and delayed at the expense of millions of people.

I remember having to ask aid workers, and visiting activists, to 'please bring a book' because publishing companies refused to sell scientific books and journals to Iraq. I remember having to 'share' books with other students in college, in an attempt to make the most of the limited resources.

I remember wasted, little bodies in huge hospital beds- dying of hunger and of disease; diseases that could easily be treated with medications that were 'forbidden'. I remember parents with drawn faces peering anxiously into doctors' eyes, searching for a miracle.

I remember the depleted uranium. How many have heard of depleted uranium? Those are household words to Iraqi people. The depleted uranium weapons used in 1991 (and possibly this time too) have resulted in a damaged environment and an astronomical rise in the cancer rate in Iraq. I remember seeing babies born with a single eye, 3 legs or no face- a result of DU poisoning.

I remember dozens of dead in the 'no fly zones', bombed by British and American planes claiming to 'protect' the north and south of Iraq. I remember the mother, living on the outskirts of Mosul, who lost her husband and 5 kids when an American plane bombed the father and his sons in the middle of a field of peaceful, grazing sheep.

And we are to believe that this is all being done for the sake of the people.

“Have you forgotten how it felt that day
To see your homeland under fire
And her people blown away?”

No… we haven’t forgotten- the tanks are still here to remind us.

A friend of (my brother), who lives in Amiriyah, was telling us about an American soldier he had been talking to in the area. (My brother)’s friend pointed to the shelter and told him of the atrocity committed in 1991. The soldier turned with the words, "Don’t blame me- I was only 9!" And I was only 11.

American long-term memory is exclusive to American traumas. The rest of the world should simply 'put the past behind', 'move forward', 'be pragmatic' and 'get over it'.

Someone asked me whether it was true that the 'Iraqi people were dancing in the streets of Baghdad' when the World Trade Center fell. Of course it’s not true. I was watching the tv screen in disbelief- looking at the reactions of the horrified people. I wasn’t dancing because the terrified faces on the screen, could have been the same faces in front of the Amiriyah shelter on February 13… it’s strange how horror obliterates ethnic differences- all faces look the same when they are witnessing the death of loved ones.
Indeed.

Is Bush sexist?

From the June 1 White House press briefing (via Editor & Publisher):

Q: Scott, at the press conference yesterday, approximately 25 percent of the journalists were women, and the President took only one question from a woman reporter. Can you explain this pattern?

McCLELLAN: That might be a reflection on the media. That's not -- I don't think that's a reflection on who the President calls on.

Q: Their hands were up, the female hands --

McCLELLAN: You pointed out that there is a smaller percentage of women at the event. I think that's a question you may want to address to the media, if it's a question of diversity in the media.

Q: If 25 percent of the journalists are women, I would think more than 2 percent of questions -- or, in fact, it was one question -- would perhaps be directed to the women.

McCLELLAN: The President looks forward to taking questions from a wide variety of people, and I don't think that's a reflection on the President. I think that's a reflection on maybe the media and the diversity within the media. So I think that's a question you ought to direct to the media, not us.

Q: Can you assure us that he will take note next time to count --

McCLELLAN: He was pleased to call on women journalists yesterday --

Q: He called on one. (Laughter.)

McCLELLAN: Well, like I said, there are a number of major media organizations that were represented there. The President believes it's important to get to those major media outlets and start the news conference that way. And if it's a question of diversity within those organizations, I think it's a question to direct to those organizations, not us.

04 June 2005

Saturday Comics Blogging


It's been a year since Ronald Reagan died and the US press subsequently transformed him from a guy that makes George W. Bush look good into a saint. Hopefully they'll get it right in the history books. At any rate, this comic is a good start.

03 June 2005

Hottfest


So if you're not doing anything tomorrow night, be sure to tune in to Hottfest for some kick ass live music. Hottfest is a three day music showcase that's taking place in Knoxville, Tennessee. You've already missed the likes of Tim Lee, Mic Harrison (The V-Roys, Superdrag), Plan A, and The Rockwells. But tomorrow night you can stream five hours of great music. The fun begins at 20:00 Eastern Standard time and runs thru 1:00 the next morning. If nothing else, be sure to catch Senryu, The Westside Daredevils, and The High Score. Visit the site and click on Hottfest Radio to tune in.

And if you live in Knoxville, head to Corner Lounge for $5 of the best music you'll ever hear under one roof.

02 June 2005

Ribbons I've Never Seen In Berkeley

The other day I found Support Our Ribbons, a site that skewers the yellow ribbon trend but good. The ribbons for sale in the store are OK. But the beauty of this place is that you can purchase your own customized ribbons. I can't think of a better reason to support Capitalism. Check out the message board for some really funny ribbons created by site visitors (a few of which are below).

Someone help me out. Which ribbon should I buy? Or perhaps you've got a slogan of your own? Let's hear 'em.