arse poetica

A Fitting End to National Poetry Month (+ 1 Question)

Critic's Notebook: Dial-A-Poem Enters the Internet Age.

Dial-A-Poem was first set up at the Architectural League on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. "It was one room and 10 phone lines," said Bill Berkson, one of the Dial-A-Poem poets who occasionally minded the store, noting that "the will to subversion was intense."

What callers got was not just three-minute hits of poetry. They got Black Panther speeches, and they got Buddhist mantras. Dial-A-Poem was part of the downtown scene, the antiwar movement and the sexual revolution. "It was agitprop," Ms. Waldman said.

Agitprop! Joy!! We need subversive public art now more than ever. I just can't imagine any longer what kind of world would allow for Black Panther speeches and Buddhist mantras without James Dobson or Tom DeLay moaning about discrimination against good Xtians or Murkans or whatever code word they'll devise next. And it's not that these Great Unhinged would complain (and loudly), it's that their complaints would be amplified and legitimized by a compliant media. That's the tragic bit. There have always been kooks. It's how we hold a mirror to them that matters. Dammit, I always come back to this. Who controls information? To think you could dial up a Black Panther speech ... boggles the mind. Good thing we got the internets now.

Dial-A-Poem didn't last long, sadly. They hung up the phone in 1971, but you can get a whole new Dial-A-Poem on the internets here. You might think that the internets are a bigger, more democratic, more readily available and ever-generating collection of Dial-A-Poems, and in one sense I think that's true. We have access to ridiculous amounts of information now, and I'm amazed every day what I can find. But I'm afraid we lose something, too, when we give up that analog attitude, which is inherently slower and less fragmented. And it makes me a little sad to read this about the new digital Dial-A-Poem (emphasis mine):

You can rip through the early albums, picking and choosing the poets you like or have always wanted to hear.

[...snip...]

Ah, you think to yourself, I can swallow this whole movement in a day. If you don't like a poem or, hey, you get the point already, just click on another selection.

Click. Click. Click. You're in control, and there's the rub. You're not waiting on the telephone to see who in the world is going to whisper or shout in your ear. You're not looking nervously over your shoulder to see if your mother is going to walk in while you're listening.

It's just you now, the gray zip of your QuickTime player and a whole lot of choices. You can listen through headphones or speakers. You can fold laundry while you're at it. You can make a poem repeat over and over. You're the consumer, and you know best.

Maybe we know best, maybe we don't. I'm not arguing that someone else make our choices, but that taking the time to really listen to poems or speeches that one may not have chosen and stumbling across something amazing and challenging has its benefits. "Click Click Click" sounds worrisome, like a rat pushing for its pellet, like the definition of ADD, like bumping up against the limits of one's own knowledge or, worse, tastes. Heck. Some person who loves Emily Dickinson, say, may not think to click on Huey P. Newton, but what a treasure they could find. And vice versa. I'm just saying that being guided by serendipity and having to slow down and really listen to something is a wonderful thing, and we--certainly I--could use more of it.

Anyhoo, I dialed up Dial-A-Poem and found lots of fun stuff. Go! Happy National Poetry Month.

[Photo credit.]

Saturday Mulch Blogging

SLLLAMMM! The dumptruck gate bangs closed just outside our window. 8 a.m. That's bad enough, but they'd already called at 7 a.m. to say that they were ready to deliver. Dang. There goes sleeping in on Saturday.

10 cubic yards is a lot o' mulch. Good thing db is a responsible human being and got to clearing the pine needles and related ol' wintry squish, cos I just HAD TO go back to bed. But a couple hours later I was up-n-at-'em and on my way w/ the Dingo to the grockery for foodstuffs. The Dingo loves a good car ride. Not a big fan of leeks though.

Then back for a quick lunch, weeding the driveway (!), and mulching, mulching, mulching. Looks much prettier though, so we're pleased. Plus, we kicked ass trying to do as much as we could before the rain came. Um, no rain came. Damn Doppler! And this after we'd run to the hardware store to purchase tarps to cover the mulch, cos there ain't no way I'll be able to shovel wet mulch ... alrighty, that it's for Household Minutiae News.

In related news, we let the Dingo roam around free in the front yard for a few minutes while I spread mulch and db played Mulch Delivery Boy, and she was loving the freedom! A little puppy spring in her step, big smile, lots of new things to sniff. The Dingo is not one of those pups who sits languidly in the driveway and watches cars and people go by. She's entirely too curious and would have to explore every aspect of every thing, so we have to tie her up or be right next to her to give the Yo, Dingo, c'mere! command. She does look so pretty though with her orange-honey fur against the green leaves and brown mulch. Nice contrast. Any painter takers out there? ;-P

db and I are rockin' out to "Mr. Brightside" by The Killers. I lurvs music. Thank be to all music geeks for the sublimated heartache and anger.

UDATE: Mulch photo (with bonus Dingo), per KathyF's directive.

This Just In: Willie Nelson Not the Pope

Well, goddam. I keep thinking we've hit the absolute apex of absurdity with this group of pickle-brain loons, but Tex-ass has reserves we could never have guessed at.

From Diane at DED Space:

How about naming it the Tom DeLay Highway to Hell?  

A 49-mile stretch of Highway 130 in Texas won't be named after Willie Nelson, after all. Steve Ogden and Jeff Wentworth, Republican senators, spoke against the proposal because they didn't want the stretch of road, which crosses their districts, named for someone who drinks, smokes, and supports Democrats.

Honestly, can't you just see that being the punchline of a joke? It is too dumbass for words, and, yet, it is reality in Tex-ass. Next thing you know, they'll be attacking the Yellow Rose of Texas for being the color of Dem dogs or cowards or the Communist Chinese and will pass a bill mandating (that word) red as the o-fficial color of Texas and of roses, but, wait, red is for commies, too. Whatever will they do? They certainly can't go blue.

Idjits.

Well, God. Damn.

Human Rights Watch - Darfur Drawn: The Conflict in Darfur Through Children's Eyes.

On mission along the border of Chad and Darfur, Human Rights Watch researchers gave children notebooks and crayons to keep them occupied while they spoke with the children’s parents. Without any instruction or guidance, the children drew scenes from their experiences of the war in Darfur: the attacks by the Janjaweed, the bombings by Sudanese government forces, the shootings, the burning of entire villages, and the flight to Chad.

Doa‘, Age 11 or 12
Janjaweed descend on a village on horses and camels, a woman flings her arms in the air as she is targeted for sexual violence or execution. A soldier takes a woman to be raped. She has a cell phone next to her head: “She wants to call the agencies for help.”

Save Darfur

Darfur Crisis: How to Help

March for Women's Lives

The one-year anniversary of the March for Women's Lives was Monday, April 25, and I wanted to blog about it then, but life intervenes, as usual. I was there. My best girlfriend (la) and I made it up to DC the night before, made a jaunt out to our fave grocery store (besides this one) which, sadly, is not here in NC, and had a nice relaxing evening in beautiful downtown Springfield, VA, before the next day's march.

The next morning we parked at the Metro park-n-ride, jumped on the train, which had a few people on board, mostly folks like us headed to the march. The closer we got to DC, the more filled our train became, and the greater the buzz from the crowd. People were getting excited. At one stop, a beautiful family -- mom (white), dad (black), 12-yr-old girl, 9-year-old boy -- started passing out stickers to everyone which read: Pro-Child, Pro-Family, Pro-Choice.

There was a very cool woman sitting next to another middle-aged woman and they had flowers in their lapels and handmade signs with their daughters' names on them. They were radiant. Everything about them said strength, conviction, compassion. la and I were loving them and were talking about how cool they were and how we wanted to be them when we grew up. Near the end of our Metro ride, we realized that the v. quiet teenaged girls sitting next to us were the daughters of one of those women, and you could tell they were having a half-mortified teenage moment over mom. We turned to them and said, "Your mom is the coolest person on this train," and you could tell that though they were embarrassed they were really proud of her. Their mom rocked.

The march was incredible. It felt like the world was peopled only with folks who didn't think there was anything funny 'bout peace, love, and understanding. I felt hopeful. Smiling women and men everywhere of all ages, colors, creeds. Lots of great t-shirts and stickers. Lots of mother/daughter pairs. Lots of best girlfriend pairs. Lots of girlfriend pairs, too. We couldn't see the end of the line of people. It felt like science fiction, like another world altogether, which, I suppose, it was.

People were sharing cell phones because reception was near impossible. The towers were maxed. My boss left me a beautiful message on my voicemail telling me he was proud of me for being there and that I should know I had many more people behind me at home. (Yes, he's amazing.) Tiny hands waved at us from tall buildings along the march route. Banners unfurled from windows on the upper floors to great cheers from the marchers. Some of them were hastily pulled back in. I remember one adorable young guy's sign said something like: Moderately Hot, Single High School Guy for Choice. He was a big hit. I think I have his picture somewhere (pre-digital camera days). Hint to guys: Want a date? Be a serious person and love women sincerely. The march was a raging lovefest. Next time I am bringing my mother and all of my friends, guaranteed. Everyone should feel like this at least once.

A highlight: my sister yelling, "Hi, Gloria!" into the phone after la and I had called her in Los Angeles so she could hear Gloria Steinem "live." The speeches were alternately hopeful (Barbara Boxer), righteous (Dolores Huerta), and just plain kick-ass (Ashley Judd). I had a raging crush on Ashley Judd after her speech. la and I did our Sherlock Holmes best to sniff out Howard Dean's whereabouts, but we never got close. I was happy that during the biggest women's celebration in our lifetime, we wanted to meet Howard, which says something about our regard for him. We got more hugs and high-fives and shy smiles and bad-ass grandma vibes that day than we've had in our lives combined. I could use one of these every week.

Since then, and continuing still, too many attacks on our dignity, physical integrity, humanity. Do. Something. More love in the world, not less.

Formally Declaring My Love for Jon Stewart

On The Daily Show this eve, Jon plays a clip from CNN of some INSANE biddy who makes an atrociously specious claim about abuse of children in same-sex couple households, an obvious fact-esque piece of chum thrown to the frothing dominionist sharks. Disgusting. Cut to: a guy from a pro-gay alliance who dismisses that load of bigoted bullshit out of hand.

Jon comes back to wonder outloud what the CNN anchors did. Did they challenge the cretinous bigot spewing falsehoods, by chance?

Nope. Cut to the anchor saying some feeble crap like: "Well, it's a tough issue. Thanks everyone for the debate," as she wraps up the segment.

Jon: Really? Debate?? Cos I thought that one woman was just, you know, lying, making things up. (Big laugh.)

Then back to the CNN anchor desk where the other anchor, visibly annoyed (?), says: Oh, I've got opinions about this story, and you and I will discuss it at the break." Forced cheery laughter between anchors.

Back to an incredulous Jon, who mimics their laughter and yells into the camera: WHY DON'T YOU CALL THEM ON THEIR BULLSHIT ON AIR???? YOU'RE AN ANCHOR, FOR F*CK'S SAKE!!

And he was actually angry. God, I love him. It's not asking for much to want someone to be outraged when everything we see and hear is outrageous. A truly decent human that Jon Stewart.

UPDATE: A clip of the segment from Oliver Willis! Yaay. And there's lots more good stuff I didn't even mention. Lucky y'all.

I Want This Map!

I love this idea! This is exactly what I love about the internets and about human ingenuity. Of course this map should exist. Imaginary maps tell us just as much about what preoccupies us as real ones, maybe more. And for many of us, the worlds in books live so strongly inside us that it would not be the least surprising to see them occupying physical space.

Sunday Book Review > Essay: We'll Map Manhattan.

I propose to create, with the help of the Book Review's readers, a literary map of Manhattan -- not of its authors' haunts but those of their characters, a map of the literary stars' homes.

I began thinking about this map years ago while reading Don DeLillo's ''Great Jones Street.'' Bucky Wunderlick gazes out the window of his ''small crowded room'' at the firehouse across the street. I realized: there's only one firehouse on that street and few buildings that contain tiny apartments rather than commercial lofts. I know where Bucky Wunderlick lives. Or would live if he existed. He's got to be at No. 35. Knowing this made walking around the neighborhood like walking through the novel. But I walked without a map. Shouldn't there be a map of imaginary New Yorkers?

It would be a lush literary landscape -- the house on Washington Square where Catherine Sloper waited and yearned, the coffee shops where the characters of Ralph Ellison and Isaac Bashevis Singer quarreled and kibbitzed, the offices where John Cheever's people spent their days, the clubs where Jay McInerney's creatures wasted their nights, the East 70's and Upper West Side avenues where the Glass family bickered (Salinger gives several addresses), downtown where Ishmael wandered the docks.

This first map will display fiction set in Manhattan (in the future, I can imagine maps of Brooklyn, Chicago, London and more). It could include novels, poems and stories from all eras (from Hart Crane to James Baldwin to Michael Chabon to William Gibson) and all genres -- literary fiction (Truman Capote, the Roths, Henry and Philip), pop fiction (Bertice Berry and Sophie Kinsella), Ed McBain mysteries, Ira Levin thrillers, children's books (Faith Ringgold's ''Tar Beach,'' E. B. White's ''Stuart Little''). It will be a kind of Global Positioning System for the characters of Dawn Powell, Han Ong, Meg Wolitzer, Mario Puzo, Colson Whitehead, Tom Wolfe and Thomas Pynchon (from ''V.'' -- ''This alligator was pinto: pale white, seaweed black.'' Where is that alligator? Where is the sewer where Benny Profane hunted it down?)

Since nobody is widely enough read -- I'm not widely enough read -- to know the haunts and houses, the offices and bars and subway stops of so diverse a population, I appeal to Book Review readers to send in their favorites. The graphic artist Nigel Holmes and I will put them on the map and credit the first person to submit a site we use.

Send in your favorites to Nigel and Randy!

I hope this catches on and people map their own communities -- a sort of annotated G00gle maps, a community wiki! Maybe folks already do this?

Beachy Weekend in Pix

So lucky this picture! I held the camera over my head and just snapped the photo without telegraphing my intentions to the dingo, who has an uncanny (well, not so uncanny; she's just smart) ability to look away just as I'm poised to take the BEST picture of her. I have so many pix of the back of her head or one eye or a big snout that I'm considering doing a "The Shot That Almost Was" photo essay. It's too funny to see all the messed up shots together. This is a dog who is just too smart to let you flash a big bright light straight into her eyeballs. I love when she turns her head just an inch away and then waits for me to make some sort of picture-taking motion and cuts her eyes over very quickly to see what I'm doing and then back again very quickly to stare straight ahead stoically. The picture of beastly patience.

Yes, she is the most gorgeous dog ever. Thank you.

Stinkowitz's first elevator ride. Isn't she being so good as the ground is receding rapidly? She just sitting there listening to the happy Canadians shift their shopping bags and discuss the weather with elongated vowels. Not that the dingo doesn't love happy Canadians. She loves all peoples! But that's usually the problem: she loves all peoples with kisses and hugs, though we're working on that. What can we say? She's a doggie diplomat, and the world is full of love. There have yet to be any international incidents, though maybe we should let her venture over to the UN. We guarantee that this bitch would be better at CondoLIEzza's job than she is. Ahem.

Hoowee, but the Canucks loooove the Redneck Riviera. How kind of them not to be so picky.

So now we're on the 6th floor in db's parents' place. This is also the Stinks' first balcony foray (as far as we know), and she's a little cautious about that receding (though now stationary) ground. You can't see it very well in this pic, but she was doing a very good show dog lean w/ her back legs stretched out, only she wasn't show dogging. It was more a "Heights? Not so much" cautionary lean. She was very interested in the miniature people on that sandy surface below though.

In the pix below, the dingo makes it to the beach! Yaay sand, seagulls, sniffy shells! Boo waves! What the heck is it with this attacky water?? In the last pic, she'd had it with the cajoling. No stinky seaweed water for the dingo, thanksverymuch.

The weather was nice for a late April weekend, bright and sunny, though very windy. The Canucks loved it! Compared to Ontario in April, I'm sure it was positively rainforestian.

We had a gorgous full (?) moon by which we could have read a book on the balcony. This is a crap picture, but the better one, later that evening, was too dark to capture with our camera. Imagine a black sky with a big white and gray moon cutting a wide swath of shimering white-yellow light on blue-black water. That's a lot of colorful adjectives, but I wish I could do it justice. It would be worth investing in a camera that could capture that.

We grabbed db's dad's (tb's) very powerful binoculars, and seeing the moon through those, it was very clear why people worship it still. It's beautiful, and poetically so. Seeing the craters and striations in such detail called up a sense of wonderment that's hard to come by in these jaded times. db and I were agog. How amazing it is to have time to look at the moon while your dog contentedly chews a bone at your feet and there is not a ringing phone to be heard all day. A human could get used to this. Through the binocs, the moon looked like this:

What is there to do on the Redneck Riviera but eat? Simply put, this ain't your yoga instructor's health food spa weekend. Our meals consisted of popcorn shrimp, lightly battered grouper, sirloin, bibb salad (salad! that's cheating!), buttered corn, cole slaw, hushpuppies, and to top it all off, for brunch on Sunday I had the country fried steak. For the first time in easily 15 years, yessir. And lord it was good. And since I didn't have my camera, I had to G00gle a pic, and would you look at this Yankee-ass food stylist photo of country fried steak? I barely recognize it with that dainty little dollop of gravy, ever so precociously poised there aloft the Martha-Stewart-just-whipped-this-up batter, and let's just quit pretending with the french green beans and frou-frou mashed potatoes, shall we? And they call this country fried steak! Hah! My country fried steak would kick this country fried steak's ass with half its fat grams tied behind its back.

Honestly, I am 100% redneck as regards Southern cuisine. I had some sweet tea at a seafood joint near Barefoot Landing that would have brought Elvis back to life. Perfection. The best I've had in years, and I know from sweet tea, honey. And double bonus because our server was a tall, showboaty woman who should have been named Marge, or Margritte maybe if she were Scandinavian, who would not let us order what she considered to be below par. How are the margaritas? Not so good. Get the daiquiri. I'll have the flounder basket. No, you want the grouper. We'll have half a dozen oysters. No, get the dozen. (She only charged us for the half order.) (Btw, the oysters sucked. Why didn't Marge warn us?) She was a hoot and a half and running ragged with four huge tables of tan vacationing Murkans with their braided belts and boat shoes and the women in appliqued shirts smiling stiffly and wondering how much of their server's charm was too much of a good thing. I have only one question: what is it with the applique and sequins? The stiff smiles I'm used to. I loved Marge, as I am a fan of people of indefatigable spirit who do their jobs well. I hope someone is nice to her when she goes home for the day.

The ride home was uneventful. The azaleas are amazing in Wilmington, huge bushes almost reaching the roof on some houses. And the fuscia, stop it! I wanted to jump in. As always, during trips down country roads, I was on the lookout for corn on the cob and fresh veggies, but db only had eyes for home. We made good time though traffic was surprisingly heavy. The dingo slept, I read my friend P's soon-to-be-published (yaay!) short story with its beautiful descriptions of loss and then read it again, and db tortured me with pop radio. I mean, how many times does one need to hear (insert crap band here) in an afternoon? That would be never. Would it kill them to play a little Zenyatta Mondatta? True story: while waiting in the parking lot of the airplane hangar-sized Bass Pr0 Shops (no, seriously) and reading my magazine while db ran around looking at camping gear and lord knows what, I scanned the entire length of FM radio twice and could not find NPR. That's South Carolina for you. We don't need no stinkin' librul radio! Lots of that guy who writes I Love Murka™ anthems, whatever his name is.

Then home again, home again, jiggity jig. Our bags unpacked, the laundry going, pajamas on. The dingo needed a little rest after our long weekend adventure. And look! It's a picture of Kate behind the live sleeping Kate. Can you stand it? We aim to please at Dingo Pix R Us.

Still Waiting for Arianna's Call

A Boldface Name Invites Others to Blog With Her.

Get ready for the next level in the blogosphere.

Arianna Huffington, the columnist and onetime candidate for governor of California, is about to move blogging from the realm of the anonymous individual to the realm of the celebrity collective.

She has lined up more than 250 of what she calls "the most creative minds" in the country to write a group blog that will range over topics from politics and entertainment to sports and religion. It is essentially a nonstop virtual talk show that will be part of a Web site that will also serve up breaking news around the clock. It is to be introduced May 9.

Having prominent people join the blogosphere, Ms. Huffington said in an interview, "is an affirmation of its success and will only enrich and strengthen its impact on the national conversation." Among those signed up to contribute are Walter Cronkite, David Mamet, Nora Ephron, Warren Beatty, James Fallows, Vernon E. Jordan Jr., Maggie Gyllenhaal, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., Diane Keaton, Norman Mailer and Mortimer B. Zuckerman.

"This gives me a chance to sound off with a few words or a long editorial," said Mr. Cronkite, 88, the longtime "CBS Evening News" anchorman. "It's a medium that is new and interesting, and I thought I'd have some fun."

In some ways, Ms. Huffington's venture is a direct challenge to the popular Drudge Report. Started nearly a decade ago by Matt Drudge, the Drudge Report lifts potentially hot news from obscurity and blares it across a virtual "front page," usually before anyone else. While his squibs are sometimes cast with a conservative slant, his "developing" scoops often send the mainstream media scrambling to catch up.

Ms. Huffington's effort - to be called the Huffington Post (www.huffingtonpost.com) - will also seek to ferret out potentially juicy items and give them legs. In fact, she has hired away Mr. Drudge's right-hand Web whiz, Andrew Breitbart, who used to be her researcher.

But unlike the Drudge Report, the Huffington Post will be interactive, offering news as well as commentary from famous people and allowing the masses to comment too, although not always directly with the celebs. Notables will oversee certain sections, with Gary Hart, the former Colorado senator, for example, taking the lead on national security issues. R. O. Blechman, the magazine illustrator, has designed the site. All material will be free and available on archives.

While many of the bloggers are on the left of the political spectrum, some conservatives have also signed on, among them Tony Blankley, editorial page editor of The Washington Times, and David Frum, the writer who coined the phrase "axis of evil" when he was a speechwriter for President Bush.

In a solicitation letter to hundreds of people in her eclectic Rolodex, Ms. Huffington said the site "won't be left wing or right wing; indeed, it will punch holes in that very stale way of looking at the world."

Oh, there's much more! Keep reading.

UPDATE: I don't know what I think about this, but I do think that it can't just be dismissed as some sort of vanity project of Huffington's. Huffington is serious about getting people participating in politics. Zealotry of the converted, I suppose, but I don't care what it is that spurs her on. I'm happy to have her wit and her  media magnet personality concentrating eyeballs on what I hope will be some lefty cleverness and idea mainstreaming. If we have to live in a culture of celebrity, let's live in one in which the celebs are actually doing something useful. That said, do we really need more Mort Zuckerman? How in the hell did Gloria Steinem date him?

I'll Have Two of Whatever David Broder is On

David Broder: A Judicious Compromise.

Here is what should happen: The Democratic Senate leadership should agree voluntarily to set aside the continued threat of filibustering the seven Bush appointees to the federal appeals courts who were blocked in the last Congress and whose names have been resubmitted. In return, they should get a renewed promise from the president that he will not bypass the Senate by offering any more recess appointments to the bench and a pledge from Republican Senate leaders to consider each such nominee individually, carefully and with a guarantee of extensive debate in coming months.

Bwaahahahahaahahhahahaha! Hoo. Wait. I have to read that again: "(The Dems) should get a renewed promise from the president that he will not bypass the Senate by offering any more recess appointments to the bench...." Yes, the Dems should get that promise from the preznit, but they won't. What world has Broder been living in for the last 5 years? Maybe he should read his own front page.

The Dems have approved FAR TOO MANY conservative hacks already anyway (damn them). I think they've been FAR TOO GENEROUS in their approval rate, which hovers sickeningly at 95%. And dumbyass has done exactly what for the Dems and the rest of us? (Besides lie us into a war, bankrupt the nation, hold a fire sale for the corporations, attack civil liberties, and ruin our reputation around the world?)

But wait! There's more: The Dems, in exchange for lying down and taking it, should also expect "a pledge from Republican Senate leaders to consider each such nominee individually, carefully and with a guarantee of extensive debate in coming months." Broder is smoking crack. Repugnican "leaders" don't consider anything except for their payoffs and their position in the party caste system. So goes their logic: If I kowtow today, i'll run the Heritage Foundation/Lockheed Martin/Lichtenstein tomorrow. What's to argue?

Why should the Democrats be the first to step back from the abyss of the "nuclear option," the possible rules change that would eliminate all judicial nomination filibusters and thereby make confirmation possible with 51 -- not 60 -- votes?

The principled answer is that elections matter.

Nice of you to weigh in, Dave, and I hope you'll pardon my French, but this is just a load of imperious bullshit. If Broder can get off his pedestal perch for one damn moment, he might see that the American People think elections matter, too. That's why they want the Dems to fight the illegitimate B*shCo agenda. Keerist.

Voters placed Republicans in control of the White House and the Senate, and while the opposition still has a constitutional role to play, at the end of the day that function has to be more than talking important matters to death.

Wow. Wow. Holy Divorce From Reality, Batman! You know, this is exactly why I am on a news hiatus. I just don't have the time/patience/iron stomach to put up with statements like this. I just don't have all day (or even a portion of the day) to refute all of the assumptions in that sentence, but, f*ck it, this is just too annoying.

1. Voters placed Repugs in control of the White House. Debatable.
2. Voters placed Repugs in control of the Senate. Debatable.
3. "Control"? Creepy. Voters place representatives there to do the people's bidding. Hahahahah! I know that's a load of horsepuckey we sell to the kiddies in Civics class, but still...
4. "While the opposition still has a constitutional role to play..." Whoa. It's constitutional, just procedural, a little nitpicky rule and not essential to a well-functioning democracy, hunh? Not checks and balances, not fostering debate and compromise so that our reps can reach the best decision for the coutnry? Well, that says something for how Broder thinks gubmint should be run, I guess. Control, a mute and passive opposition.... Hmm. Sounds like a system we already have in place. Can't put my finger on it though.
5. "At the end of the day (this) function has to be more than talking important matters to death" (read: debate, compromise)?? Hey, you washerwomen, politics is about more than talking! Quit yer jibba jabba. We got work to do! Like corporate giveaways and mortgaging the future and logging! Yes, and less rights! And fewer benefits! And fuck the poor! You, too, gays! We love you soldiers -- here's my stupid yellow magnet to prove it -- but don't think we think you deserve any services when you return home. No, siree. This ain't socialism. And, girl, you better get your ass back in the kitchen. And to think the Dems want to spend all their time talking important matters to death.

Barkeep, another double and keep 'em coming!

But there are also practical reasons for the Democrats to take this path. Their tactical position is weak. The Judiciary Committee cleared two more nominees last week. The Republicans -- with Vice President Cheney in the chair -- could well muster the 51 votes needed to change Senate rules and abolish judicial filibusters. If that were to happen, Democrats have said they would use every rule and procedure available to them to bring the work of the Senate to a halt.

Whaaaaaa? The Judiciary Committee cleared two nominees last week before Broder's sage advice could be delivered to the cackling hen Dems from Up on High? Shocking. How did the Dems EVER know how to function in their jobs w/o Broder's Solomonic wisdom lighting the way?

Building such a roadblock to consideration of such important legislation as energy, Social Security, welfare reform and the routine financing of government would bring down deserved public condemnation, and the mighty megaphone of the White House would ensure that Democrats took the brunt of the blame. Democrats need to remember what happened to Newt Gingrich when he shut down the government for a few days in 1995 in a budget dispute with President Bill Clinton. It was not Clinton who lost public support.

The mighty megaphone of the White House, hunh? Hmm. Does Broder have megaphone envy? Is that why he's using his tin-can-on-a-string column to give advice to the Dems and "spare" them the brunt of the blame for -- what was it again? For doing the will of the people and ensuring that debate and criticism and rejection, if need be, occurs so that King George doesn't continue to think that we are his loyal subjects and that he makes all the decisions in the fiefdom? I mean, is it just me??

And no he didn't compare the Dems' response to the Nuclear Option to Newt "The Original 'I Am the Federal Government' Asshole" Gingrich's Contract On America! Man, that is rich. Let's see, a more apt comparison might be, oh, I don't know, comparing Frist-DeLay's unparalleled arrogant overreaching to Newt Gingrich's theretofore unparalleled arrogant overreaching. Yes, that would be more appropriate, unless, of course, one were hellbent on portraying the Dems as obstructionists. With a judicial approval rate of an appalling 95%, I'd think the Dems were f*cking grease-the-wheel'ers. The jerks.

Broder smokes crack in his basement, I'm afraid. Really, I can reach no other conclusion after he offers up a sentence as poorly argued as: "Building such a roadblock to consideration of such important legislation as energy, Social Security, welfare reform, and the routine financing of government woudl bring down deserved public condemnation..."  I'm sorry, what? What in the hell is Broder on about? Newsflash: the Dems also think energy, SS, welfare, and "the routine financing of gubmint" are important! That's why they're, um, debating, critiquing, compromising, and roadblocking when they have to. We can't just let the Empire proceed apace. Jeebus! Public condemnation guaranteed if they do not fight the Empire on those important pieces of legislation.

Dammit, I'm sick of this. Broder goes on to counsel the Dems on what else they should do to play dead when it is screamingly obvious to everyone in the room that the Repug pirates have commandeered the ship. And Broder's advice to the Repugs re: unseemly powergrabs and the subverting of American democracy? [crickets chirping.] The silence speaks volumes.