Hammer Mill Days

Good morning, sunshine. Stop that blinking - just rub the sleep right out of your eyes and get back to work, you shiftless mo-fo. If you want me, I'll be... in the top bunk... just up the stairs... zzzzzzz... Yes, exchanges like that take place regularly here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, where your friends in the Big Green collective are now warehousing themselves. When we're not discussing anarcho-syndicalist theory, we're making onion dip using sour cream and that cheap-shelf powdered soup mix. (You know, the kind with the crispy onion bits... mmmm, boy!) Then there are the 6-hour meditation sessions over a ceremonial plate of Ramen noodles. (The one who doesn't fall asleep gets to eat the noodles. If you stay awake two sessions in a row, you can even boil them before you eat 'em.) So don't think we're an undisciplined gang of louts over here - we know how to keep the rabble amongst us in line, yessir. (It's sorting out the rabble from the wo...

Another landmark: this week a House committee approved a resolution recognizing the Armenian genocide of nearly a century ago - a grisly chapter in Turkish history when perhaps 1.5 million Armenians were put to death. To speak of it in Turkey now is enough to get you in trouble with the law, much as it is problematic for Turkish Kurds to converse in their native tongue or make culturally significant apparel choices. (Irony alert: back in 1915, the Turks employed Kurds to do some of the killing of Armenians.) The Bush administration and many G.O.P. congressmen have raised the alarm that such a declaration at this time will threaten the safety of our troops in Iraq... not that safety appears to be anything like a central concern, since they were the ones who sent them over there in the first place. Still, they suggest (with uncharacteristic accuracy) that the Turks will be pissed off about this resolution and that it may result in interrupted supply lines via Iraq's all-important nor...

What was that? You want more? Already ? No chance, Jack. I'm shutting you off. This little watering hole has dried up, my friend. WTF, followers of Big Green's meandering life story - since when am I the flapjack nazi, anyway? Am I not every bit the addict that my various colleagues have shown themselves to be over the last few years? I should say so. (And, in fact, I did.) Even now, as lame made-for-television-commercial emo music wafts up from the living room downstairs, I am pouring grade A Patagonian pancake batter into the frying pan, the glorious golden circles of nutrition spreading out from the stream, spattering hot butter in every direction. Total abandon, my friends - isn't that what you expect out of your pop musicians? Total, aimless, sputtering self-abandon, yea unto self-destruction. I have embarked upon that grimly seductive road. If I'm less than generous with the fruit of my skillet, it is out of conscience, not selfishness. DON'T FOLLOW ME HERE! ...

Sy Hersh just published a story in The New Yorker on the Bush White House's evolving plans to attack Iran . I imagine the fact that they are contemplating such madness will come as a surprise to no one, but Hersh describes a recent shift in the administration's rationale from "counterproliferation" to "counterterrorism", and this does raise some troubling possibilities. Their efforts to blame Iran for all of their troubles in Iraq have kicked into high gear over the past few months, and Hersh reports that they appear to believe that, with respect to public opinion, they are getting more traction with this argument than they had with the specter of a nuclear-armed Iran. (Apparently the American people are not as anxious to march lemming-like to the tune of that particular drum as they were in 2002-03.) This, of course, means that the Bush team is, once again, fixing the facts around the policy - deciding what they want to do first (e.g. bomb Iran), then work...

Now, let's see... how does that song go? Hmmmm.... strike up the band, Johnny. One small step... for one bald man. Giant leap for all time. Christmas day, thank you, ma'am. I came in peace... and left my mind! That's an oldy. Oh, yes... Christmas 1996 - I remember it well. As soon as we get our thumbs out of our asses on this seemingly endless project, I'm going to trawl through the archives and dust off some of those recordings that have never before seen the light of day. Prepare to be amazed. (Did I say "amazed"? I meant "annoyed." Or perhaps "nauseated".) But before you get to thinking that I'm distracting you from our current lethargy with vague promises of archival releases somewhere down the road, let me assure you that your good friends in Big Green are looking over these old songs for some very, very good reasons. And no, I don't mean nostalgia for a past equally obscure as our present. No, no.... better reasons than that...

If the aim this week was to put Iran in the crosshairs, the Bush administration barely needed to lift a finger, it seems. People were climbing over one another to denounce president Ahmadinejad and none so much as those who invited him to speak at Morningside campus. Is it possible that his invitation was the result of some kind of clerical error? Perhaps they meant to invite some other president - someone committed to democracy, the rule of law, and the whims of the Bush clan, like "president" Pervez Musharraf. Whatever the case may be, Columbia was ground zero in the clash of civilizations for a few hours, with Ahmadinejad being decried as the "Hitler of the Middle East". (Hmmm... that has a familiar ring to it.) Hell, over there, you can hardly take a bath without six or seven Hitlers jumping in with you. I guess the standard for Hitlerianism has lapsed somewhat over the past few years. Used to be you had to, you know, invade someone. Now it's just saying a ...

Are you ready to rumble ? Not yet? Okay then. Just asking. Don't get upset, now. Put that down. I said PUT THAT DOWN! Do it or someone's going to get hurt. No. NO. NOOOOOOOO!!! Ahem. Well, we won't post any more of that exchange, as it may be upsetting to young children. (This is a FAMILY blog, friends. Fuck yes.) Welcome back to the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, where band members are listless, robots are corroding, and plant creatures are setting down new roots as we speak. (The man-sized tuber has abandoned his terrarium for a patch of ground in the courtyard. Seems he's getting in touch with his inner gingko tree.) Yes, your friends and colleagues in Big Green have taken refuge in the same safe harbor, seeking shelter from the storm beneath the same perforated roof that has offered us a modicum of protection over the past seven years. No, it hasn't fallen in yet. And we have hopes that that will never, ever happen. (Well.... "never, ever" is a very l...