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Showing posts from 2014

The year (2014) that was.

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It's the end of the year, and news organizations far and wide are doing their annual retrospective clip shows. From a production standpoint they are a terrific money saver, no doubt, which would explain why the various networks seem so enthusiastic about it. This is the week when you get a distillation of the year's worst reporting; a big ball of conventional wisdom, served up on a plate. Open wide! NPR's Morning Edition - as reliable a servant of empire as any imperial bureaucrat could hope for - wasted no words in putting one of the world's most dangerous conflicts into the proper context: You can learn a lot about 2014 by tracing the story of one man, Vladimir Putin. The Russian leader hosted the Winter Olympics proudly showing off a place that's near and dear to him, the Black Sea Resort of Sochi. But the feeling of global goodwill there disappeared so quickly. Putin infuriated the West by annexing Crimea then he stirred a deadly conflict in Eastern Ukraine.

Inside Christmas.

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Well, so that was Christmas, eh? What the hell. Kind of ... over, isn't it? Hope all of you are having a good holiday season. Sure, there comes a time when the plate is empty, the music falls silent, and the final champagne bubble pops. But take heart, friends ... that time has yet to arrive. So for the nonce, as Governor Scott Walker would say, Molotov! So, what is your holiday story? Can hardly wait to hear it. Here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, we've been observing the season in the usual way. All the traditional rituals. And of course, the annual holiday podcast. Kind of puny, actually. I don't know, maybe ... 36 minutes of pure lame-ass awesomeness. WE BRING THE AWESOME. I think you can imagine what the low lights might be. Here are some of the highlights: Gold And Silver - Captain Romney sings a song of Christmas cheer from the perspective of an acquisitive, rapacious, mammon worshiper, bent on gain at all cost. Very festive indeed. Easy to waltz to. Co

Politics takes a holiday.

Got a lot to say about a lot of things, but not tonight. I will add to this post later with some reflections on, well, end of year reflections. Stay tuned.

Yule be sorry.

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Marvin (my personal robot assistant)! Can you come in here for a few minutes and vacuum up all these fragments? No, not with your mouth! Use your upholstery attachment. Silly robot. Lots to do around the holidays, as you well know. Some tasks are more challenging than others. I've always found bending candy canes particularly difficult. A lot of breakage. There's got to be a better way! (Matt is thinking about taking a correspondence course in pretzel-bending, so maybe some of those skills will be transferable. We shall see.) As I was saying last week, we have some holiday traditions that we try to observe on a yearly basis. Some of them could be described as strange; others, just a little off the beaten path. Occasionally we try out a new "tradition" and see if it sticks, like that year we put the man-sized tuber on an upside-down wash basin and decorated him like a Christmas tree. I think that was Anti-Lincoln's idea. Anyway, it lacked that kind of stickines

Big week.

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This has been one of those weeks, to be sure. A lot has happened and very quickly, so let me take these one at a time. Cuba. President Obama announced a reset of relations with Cuba this past Wednesday, an initiative that includes establishment of an American embassy in Havana and the release of the remaining members of the Cuban Five, as well as the return of Alan Gross. This somewhat surprising announcement was, of course, met with flaming hair by the conservative majority in Congress and by other longtime critics of the Cuban revolution. Marco Rubio, for instance, bemoaned the fact that the maximalist goals of conservatives were not realized on the first day of the new relationship. Patience, Marco! The cause of neoliberalism is not yet lost. To listen to Obama's defense of his decision, you would think the prime motivation for improved ties between the two countries is for the joys of capitalism to rain down on the hapless Cubans. God help them. Still, a pretty momentous

Christmas bot.

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Oh, Christmas bot, oh, Christmas bot! It's hard to see just what you've got! Yes, yes ... we're polishing up the holiday songs here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill. T'is the season and all that. What, you're not familiar with the dirge of the Christmas Bot? Small wonder. We just made it up. What kind of songwriters would we be if we resorted to used Christmas Carols? It would be a total cop out. So we are resolved to write lame Christmas numbers each and every December, five minutes before we hastily record them and throw them up on the internet. You're welcome! Legend has it that every year around this time, the sound of holiday ridiculousness wafts out of the old abandoned mill by the old abandoned canal in this old abandoned town. What an asinine legend. Just the sort of thing you'd expect in this lame backwater. Whoops - should have closed the window before I said that. Now all the neighbors know that I have NOTHING BUT CONTEMPT FOR THIS NEIGHBO

What worked.

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The Senate report on torture (a.k.a. war crimes) perpetrated by our government is out, and of course, the vast majority of media and political commentary misses the point by a mile. As is often the case with discussion of this issue, the question of efficacy is paramount. Did torture "work"? Did it yield the intelligence our government needed, for instance, to conduct its unauthorized raid on a sovereign country (Pakistan) and assassinate the prime suspect in the 9/11/2001 terror attacks (rather than bring him to trial)? Does it, more generally, extract reliable, "actionable" information, or just a bunch of blather that victims of torture usually pipe up just to make the agony stop? This discussion is not limited to the full-on, proud of all we did crew, like the execrable Dick Cheney, snickering from his podium, confident that he will never pay for his crimes against humanity. This is the discussion being advanced by Senators who supposedly oppose these interroga

Prepping for the big one.

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Remind me to tell Marvin (my personal robot assistant) not to leave the lights on all night. We've got the environment to consider. If we don't care about mother earth, who the hell will? Besides ... they freaking keep me up. Oh, yes, my friends. Even here at the Cheney Hammer Mill we are preparing for the impending holiday season. Not without some trepidation, of course. Lord knows this time of year puts people into a kind of feeding frenzy, hyperactive shopping fever, whatever. They lose their reason. They get impatient and even nasty. It's a rough world out there, man. So why would we add our madness to the pile? No reason. Just looking for a way to keep busy. So, what are we planning? Nothing much. Another podcast episode. Couple of new recordings. A bag of crisps. Some flashing lights. I don't know, what do YOU think we should do? We only know how to do one (or two) things. One of them is, well, play strange music. Not Anthony Braxton strange, but strange none

Fighting for air.

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Another grand jury delivers yet another unsatisfactory conclusion. Seems like prosecutors now have a workable model for not indicting the proverbial ham sandwich. Convene a grand jury for a specific case. Drop a metric ton of data on them with no clear guidance as to how to make sense of it. Invite the individual against whom charges are being considered to present his case to the jury without pointed cross-examination by prosecutors. Drag it on for an impossibly long time, so that the grand jury is exhausted and only too eager to get back to their lives. Next thing you know, the ham sandwich walks. What does this prove other than the well-established fact that powerful institutions will always find innovative ways to protect themselves? Police are the strong arm of the government, which is itself a rough representation of the sentiments of the general population, this being a democracy. For decades, our politicians have built their careers on stoking fears over crime, particularly u

Roasted.

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Mother of pearl. Is that the time? I thought the sun was getting kind of bright in here. Pull the blinds. No blinds? Arrgh. Hang another sheet over the window. Rolled out of bed a little tardy today. Who can blame me? After a gut-full of grub, a man's thoughts turn to hibernation. Big Green doesn't ordinarily celebrate major holidays, but we did relent this year and enjoy a modest Thanksgiving feast, prepared by the steady hand of our confidant Anti-Lincoln, who has elected to stay at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill while he considers his next steps. (I think he's contemplating some brand of global domination, but no details yet. Can't rush a genius!) Some of you may recall that Lincoln's favorite dish was Chicken Fricasee. Well, that obviously meant something to Anti-matter Lincoln, if only in the sense that he wanted to run in the exact opposite direction with his holiday meal plan. What's the opposite of Chicken Fricasee, you may ask? In anti-Lincoln'

Justice be not swift.

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Well, the verdict is in. I say "verdict" only because the prosecutor in the Michael Brown shooting investigation presented a trial-like case to the grand jury that included extensive exculpatory evidence, such as hours of testimony from the suspect himself - an approach that even Justice Scalia has considered irregular (though he has not, to my knowledge, commented on this specific case). I say "verdict" because Michael Brown himself was on trial in these grand jury proceedings, much as Trayvon Martin was while his killer, wannabe-cop George Zimmerman, was sitting in the dock without a care in the world. St. Louis County Prosecutor Robert McCulloch ultimately provided the grand jury with a distorted picture of Michael Brown that made him out to be a superhuman, hyper aggressive, predatory cop-hater. Darren Wilson's description of Brown was surreal and, in my opinion, carefully concocted to create the impression that there was no other way to deal with this you

Inside the November podcast.

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That was close. No, not the comet - that didn't end up being close at all. I mean the November podcast . We almost didn't post before Thanksgiving week, and that would have been a tragedy beyond measure. (Well, beyond my measure, anyway. Not real good at reading the old tragedy yardstick.) Anyhow, now that Earth is out of danger (at least from external forces) we can take a few minutes to dissect this month's episode of THIS IS BIG GREEN , our podcast and the only avenue we have left for artistic expression. (Cue the violins.) So let's pop open the hood and see what's inside, shall we? Here goes ... Ned Trek XXI: Old Maple Glory . Our episodes of the space horse-opera Ned Trek are loosely based on installments of classic Star Trek, as you probably know, except that the ship is named the Free Enterprise and it is commanded by Willard Mitt Romney and his talking dressage horse, Mr. Ned. This episode follows The Omega Glory, roughly speaking, with cousin Rick Perry

Lucy ball.

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The president has announced that he's taking executive action applying prosecutorial discretion to stop mass deportation of undocumented aliens in certain categories. This is the type of action he originally promised to take over the summer, then backed off by request of embattled red-state democrats, like Arkansas Senator Mark Pryor and others. (How did that work out?) Now that the disastrous election of 2014 is over, he is proceeding with the plan in the face of very vocal condemnation by Republicans in Congress and in statehouses across the nation. That, I confess, is an understatement. They, once again, have their hair on fire about this deal. Trouble is, Republicans ALWAYS have their hair on fire. It kind of devalues burning hair. All of this gas about how the president is going to poison the well by acting in this fashion; that Congress is ready to work with the president, but that this will screw it up. Hoo boy. If the president were to take them at their word on this at t

Posse comet-at-us.

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Electrodes to power! Turbines to speed! Hand on the main throttle, Marvin (my personal robot assistant)! Man, that's hard to say with any urgency. Oh, hi. Caught us in full-on crisis mode here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, as of now Planet Earth's first line of defense against the menace of stray comets invading the inner rings of our solar system (where most of us reside). Or so it would appear. Seems like the planetary defense systems maintained by major world governments have been caught asleep at the wheel on this one, so bloody hell, it's up to us to save Earth's bacon. And its beans. And, of course, its life-giving stilton cheese. I could go on, but again ... we're in CRISIS mode. You've no doubt heard of the dry alien comet named "Comet 67P"? The European Union has just landed a probe on its surface with the intent of drilling into it. My guess is that they're looking for shale oil, though they vehemently deny that. Anyway, fracki

Difference making.

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There's little that can be said about the 2014 election that hasn't been repeated seventy or eighty times by now. Did we get the Congress we deserve? Perhaps so. It's the largest Republican majority in the House since the Second World War. So, expect the same -- and more of it -- as you saw from the present Congress. It also means that Barack Obama will soon be the only thing standing between us and massive cuts in social programs, vastly expanded militarism at home and abroad, and reactionary policies on a range of fronts, from abortion rights to immigration to health care and beyond. That's where we stand. At least, that's what's left to us after a remarkably lackluster election in which about 37% of the American voting populace voted. That's the lowest turnout since 1942, and it bears remembering that a lot of voting age men were in he military at the time. So if we can't summon the will to vote, do we have the right to complain about the outcome? S

Next on the list.

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Let's see. Step three hundred seventeen. Plug lead E7 into jack B47. Check. Step three hundred eighteen. Remove cap from light-pipe cable and insert into port F1. Check. Oh, my goodness. Didn't know you were reading this. Bet your eyes are glazing over. I'm just working through the instructions for this do-it-yourself project studio. It came in a big, flat box, some assembly required. In fact, quite a bit of assembly required. That explains the bargain-basement price. That fellow in Bangalore seemed very anxious to unload this little gem. At least he was an engineer - I am, at best, technically challenged, and at worst, a danger to public safety. Have you ever manually wound a transformer before? I know I haven't. Typically I would leave such menial tasks to Marvin (my personal robot assistant), but as you may have noticed from the last few postings, he has been making himself quite scarce. Last week he took a trip to Cincinnati to visit the National Museum of Robot

Failing up.

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I've heard a lot over the past few days about how the Republicans were able to do so well in Tuesday's election. What is uncontroversial is that the Congress of the last two years has been an unmitigated failure, with fewer bills passed by the House than in any session in living memory. They put forward draconian bills that they know will never go anywhere. They work a week and take two weeks off. They demonize their opponents and make compromise a four-letter word. Where did they go right? Not sure, but the mid-term electorate has spoken, and they have rewarded failure with two more years of power and Republican leadership in the Senate. That can only serve as an endorsement of the GOP's strategy of doing absolutely nothing and letting nothing be done by anyone else. Here we are, at a time when interest rates are at historic lows, letting our national infrastructure rust away when we could be rebuilding it under very favorable terms, putting people to work, and investing

Running late.

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I guess my alarm clock doesn't work. Don't understand it. I wound it up tight as a drum sometime last year. Stupid bloody thing. Oh, well. Sometimes it actually pays to be late. I'll give you a for instance. There was this gig on Mars we booked for next month, and we were planning to take a private rent-a-rocket up there, having lost contact with our mad science adviser Mitch Macaphee. That's fine. Only the rocket is an Antares Orbital CRS-3. Yes, THAT Antares Orbital CRS-3. The same one that blowed up real good a couple of days ago. Oh, yes. That's the flight you WANT to be late for. I know what you're going to say. It's an orbital CRS-3, Joe, not an inter planet ary CRS-3. What the hell are you doing, taking an orbital ship on an interplanetary journey of this type? Well, my friends .... I'm glad you asked that question. My answer may surprise you. In fact, the reason why we're doing that is that, as I mentioned earlier, we no longer have our

Vote, etc.

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We live in what's casually referred to as a democracy; more specifically, a representative democracy dominated by a "two party" system that is, in actuality, a single party with two wings. One wing is a wholly owned subsidiary of the wealthiest individuals and corporations on the planet. The other is an actual political party with a relatively broad base but that's sluiced full of cash from many of the same players. I am not going to sit here and suggest that voting makes all of the difference in the world - it obviously doesn't. But I will say that it's something we must do (among many other things) if only to keep things from becoming exponentially worse than they are right now. I know - that doesn't sound like a gee-whiz, hyper positive, up-with-people rallying cry of the sort we have all grown to expect since our kindergarten days. It's merely the truth - the vote is a right people have died defending in this country (see Schwerner, Goodman, and

Tick, tock.

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I don't know. That looks like a relative of mine. Are you sure this isn't my family album? Striking resemblance. Oh, hi. We're just thumbing through a book on the ascent of man. If I were to pick one that looks most like me, it would clearly be Australopithecus, from maybe 3.5 million years ago. Old school, if there ever was one, and yet a mere wink of the eye in evolutionary terms. So I'm a throwback, for chrissake. Curvature of the spine. Small brain case. Predisposition for randomness. (Good thing old Australo had thumbs, or I couldn't thumb through this thing.) I guess we're thinking about evolution around the Cheney Hammer Mill because, well ... hell, somebody has to. It's about time Big Green got down to the hard work of advancing the species. God knows we have precious little else to do. No gigs on the horizon. A podcast waiting to be recorded and edited. Songs standing unfinished. Come to think of it, we DO have a lot to do, just not a lot of wil

Fear itself (again).

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These grim days remind me a bit of the far worse days of late 2001, when our nation was reeling from the 9/11 terror attacks and the world seemed to be falling in on itself. (It happened that my family life was imploding at the same time, but that's another story.) I guess what reminds me most of that time is the visceral fear evident not only in mass media culture but in everyday life. People are scared, very scared about some relatively minor threats, while at the same time seemingly unconcerned about the real dangers facing us. This is a cultivated disconnect, certainly no accident. Every day, the news media hammer away at the threat of Ebola, of ISIS, of Russia, and to a lesser extent North Korea and Iran. In the case of the former, we're reaching a near hysteria about a virus that has affected only a handful of Americans, and only three cases in the U.S. The public has been worked up into such a lather that politicians are falling over themselves to try to benefit from i

Genericville.

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Do we have 1.5 children? Only if you double-count the man-sized tuber. Let's ask anti-Lincoln to do the counting - ever since the war, he sees everything twice. Oh, hello. Just working up our census form. Don't mind me. Didn't know there was going to be a 2014 census, but I guess that's understandable, since we don't get a lot of news flowing into the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, our squathouse. Just yesterday some dude in a Fedora knocked on the front gate and handed me a questionnaire. He said I had to finish it by Saturday or his friend might set the mill on fire. (I think the friend's name was Giancarlo.) How old is Mitch Macaphee? No ... I mean before the youth serum? Questions, questions. Way too much on Big Green's plate lately, I can tell you. We've got the THIS IS BIG GREEN podcast , of course - always time-consuming. Our next episode of Ned Trek, for instance, will feature as many as 6 or 7 new songs, never before heard (and probably neve

The golden beverage.

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Panetta's out hawking his book about how Obama isn't enough of a hawk. Of course, he is likely acting as a surrogate for Hillary Clinton, who appears to be advocating a more knee-jerk approach to foreign intervention. She and John McCain (and his various clones) really, really wanted that Syrian war, and now both seem to believe that the advent of ISIS is the result of our having failed to jump in ass first last year (essentially on ISIS's side, it's worth pointing out). Shades of Bush/Cheney - I guess it's been long enough since the total disaster of the Iraq war for some people to yearn for the days of pre-emptive war, of "shock and awe", of taking the gloves off. Included in that number is the putative front-runner of the Democratic field for President. So, after six years of being compelled to drink the fragrant golden beverage of Obama's national security policy - drones, bombs, domestic spying, whistleblower-persecution and all - we are now to

Inside October.

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I think time may be stretching, or rather, elongating. I don't know the correct term - get a physicist on the phone. Or call our mad science adviser Mitch Macaphee - he may have the answer. All I know is that July turned into August, September turned into October, and so on. I can feel the holidays crawling up my ass. In any case, you may have noticed that the October installment of our THIS IS BIG GREEN podcast has been posted, sent out to ipods and other devices, RSS'ed around the globe, and played on somebody's smartphone somewhere. Better late than never, I always say ... but then, I am one of the people producing the podcast, so from another perspective, late may not be better than never. Be that as it may, here is a look under the hood of this latest audio crapfest: Ned Trek 20: The Shamesters of Quadzillion. In this, the lastest episode of our ongoing bizarre-ass Star Trek parody, Captain Willard Mittilius Romney and his senior officers are captured and held pri

Incrementally unstable.

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This week we learned that American forces are using attack helicopters in Iraq and likely Syria. The gruesomely named "Apache" helicopters (strange custom, naming weapon systems after people we've wiped out) have been used in several strikes over the past week. This is a subtle ratcheting up of the war effort in the Middle East; pretty much the Obama doctrine with respect to bringing the public along on these overseas adventures. Start with vehement assurances of "no boots on the ground", then put a hundred "advisers" in, followed by a hundred more, then five hundred, then fifteen hundred, then bombing raids in Iraq, then Syria, then drones, and now helicopter gunships. ISIS and related fighters have been shooting helicopters down. What happens when they hit one of our ships? Boots on the ground. You don't have to be Kreskin (or Criswelll) to see that we may well be embroiled in a regional ground war within the next few months. This may make our

Post haste.

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What the hell, was that September just then? Fricking amazing. This is truly the meltaway year. We're almost down to the chewy caramel center. (I think of September as mostly nougat, frankly.) Well, I suppose it's safe to say that we won't be posting a September podcast. Yes, we recorded one. Yes, we still have a computer and internet access. No, I didn't leave it in my other pants. It's still under construction, okay? It's in far more capable hands than mine, I might add. And I am confident that those hands are hard at work, editing wav files, and not shuffling cards or clicking a remote or (God forbid ) tapping on a phone. (This would not be a good time for me to get a text with a link to some lame video.) I guess it's hard to deny that we have essentially departed from our monthly podcast schedule. That is, in part, due to our titanic laziness, but also to the fact that our Ned Trek productions have become much more ambitious in recent months, demandi

Missing taco.

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If you're one taco short of a combination plate, I believe I may have the item right here ... and quite a bit more besides. My weekly rant will be something of a grab bag ... a disjointed journey through a handful of topics, liable to light on just about anything. Just so much going on lately it's hard to settle on any one thing. Here goes. Ebola. This is a disaster for coastal West Africa, particularly because the health systems of Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Guinea are in such a shambles. That's due in part to the disastrous civil wars in the first two nations, but more generally it's the product of the ongoing neoliberal project and the fact that, in so many of these nations, what wealth there is remains in the hands of the top 1%, whose loyalties to foreign powers, international investors, and global capital outweigh their concern for their poorer countrymen. We in the world's developed countries have been slow to respond, as we are with practically every Afric

Tonight's the night.

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Well, shut my mouth. There appears to be some kind of celebration taking place up the street from the Hammer Mill. Maybe we should mosey on over there. Or maybe not. This street's getting a little rough. (I don't mean crime-wise. I mean the pavement's in pieces, as in potholes the size of a Buick ... some with Buicks stuck in them.) It's a natural fact - we need to get out more. Big Green is getting house bound, or mill-bound, if you will. Part of it is our reluctance to play gigs anywhere on planet Earth. That is, admittedly, a failing of ours. Mea culpa. I don't know why we don't perform on our mother world. Maybe it's the gravity. My keyboards weigh a ton on earth, but when we play, say, Phoebos, I can pick them up with one hand. Sure, there aren't a lot of music fans there ... none, in fact, but setting up is a breeze! We've been asked to consider playing a club or a college here on Terra. Why, just last week, Marvin (my personal robot assist

Back to the future.

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I sometimes forget how Bill Clinton turned my parents into hawks. In these troubled times, it's worth remembering the degree to which people's political affiliation determines their worldview. If George W. Bush dropped bombs on Serbia, mom and dad would have been against it, but Bill Clinton ... he must have had a reason. We're seeing some of the same effect with Obama. His new policy on Iraq and Syria differs from George W. Bush's Iraq policy mostly in its implementation. Bush trumpeted his intention to go in strong, drop a bunch of bombs, "shock and awe" them. Obama is incrementalist - we'll do A but not B, then a week later, we're doing B and C with promises (soon broken) that we won't move on to D. Ultimately this ends up with regime change, as it did in Libya with disastrous results. What's the difference? Psychology. Obama knows marketing. He knows that we'll only eat one or two of those big cookies, but a boat load of those little

Plastic baloney.

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Is that all we have to eat around here? Jesus Christ on a tricycle. I thought there was some more of that plastic cheese sitting around. Never mind. Just give me another slice of plastic bread. Sigh. Oh, hi. Yep, it's that time of year again. The ba-roke period, as our dear departed friend Tim Walsh used to say. Fighting the cat for scraps, except that we would never do that. In times of want, we have occasionally resorted to eating doll house food. Dibs on the plastic baloney! (Hey, don't scoff ... it's actually not that much worse than tofu baloney.) So, why exactly is Big Green wearing a cardboard belt this month? Why, you may ask, would a band with more than 300 songs under copyright need to scratch the floor for discarded fragments of past meals? It's starving artist syndrome, my friends, pure and simple. Yes, we suffer for our art. Just the other day, I got my leg caught in a banjo string. Hurt like hell, dragging that banjo around behind me. Got a lot of dirt

Bipartisanshit.

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Lopsided bipartisan majorities in both houses of Congress have approved the President's crackpot plan to arm the non-existent "moderate" opposition in Syria; in the Senate the tally of 78 to 22 was identical to the one that body delivered in support if Bush's Iraq invasion. So much for the value of bipartisanship, as Chris Hayes has pointed out many times. By virtue of this blinkered legislation, we will be providing military training and equipment to many of the same people we profess to despise. (The simple fact that McCain and Graham are in favor of such funding should be enough for any sentient creature to surmise that it's a bad call. McCain wouldn't know a member of ISIS if he were inches away.) The response to ISIS is another instance of decision-making driven by decades of bad policy. We are, in essence, seeking to deal with a mess of our own making, to put it charitably, and in so doing making an investment in future crises while bankrupting ourselv

Sweep up.

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Oh, sweep up! I've been sweeping up the tips I've made! I've been livin' on Gatorade, planning my getaway! Apologies to Paul Simon. Actually, except for the Gatorade part, that sounds like the story of my life just lately. Trying to tidy up the cavernous squat house we call the Cheney Hammer Mill ahead of the coming winter months. Nothing worse than a dusty house when the snow is up to the rafters - ask anybody who's spent a few frigid seasons here on the dark side of the year. So, just plying the old broom across the brick floor. Marvin (my personal robot) is running the vacuum in the background. Not a vacuum cleaner, you understand - an actual time/space vacuum he created with the orgone generating machine Trevor James Constable left behind so many years ago. Amazing how that thing still runs after years of neglect, no one to tend its complex servos and circuit boards, not even our mad science adviser Mitch Macaphee, who used to tinker with the thing from time

New war.

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Well, we've gotten our marching orders from the President. Time to start hammering the extremist group that grew out of the chaos we created after attacking and destroying Iraq; the jihadists that have benefited from our aid to the Syrian opposition and from the piles of money rolling in from Saudi and other gulf states whose wealthy are only too happy to support extremist Sunnis. Once again, we're "taking the fight to" some group that wouldn't have existed without our bankrupt imperial foreign policy. The last round was with Al Qaeda, beneficiaries of our covert proxy war against the Soviets in Afghanistan in the 1980s. Now it's ISIS. I can't say which part of Obama's proposed campaign against ISIS seems the most confused and misguided. It may be the notion that we should fund the training of "moderate" Syrian opposition forces in Saudi Arabia, of all places. First of all, there is no meaningful moderate opposition in Syria. The lead force

Bloody script.

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Where are my thumbs? Without my thumbs, I can't type. Or at the very least, make spaces between what I type. Wait ... did I say that? Is someone speaking? Sorry. You'll have to forgive me. I'm hip deep in finishing the script for our next episode of Ned Trek, as featured on the THIS IS BIG GREEN podcast. And though I write for a living, writing has always been a teeth-pulling process for me, resulting in sleepless nights, even more sleepless days, and other trepidations too numerous to ... to enumerate. Am I making sense? (Possibly not.) I know what you're going to say. (Either that or lack of sleep is causing me to hear voices in my head.) Why the hell am I concentrating on a script for a stupid, knock-off podcast horse ballad instead of spending my time working on new songs, producing an album, preparing for another interstellar tour, etc.? My response? Meh. No man can say. I do it because I do it. And because Matt tells me to, which should be enough for anyone. (