Mission Accomplished?

You probably haven’t noticed yet, but Operation Iraqi Freedom, you know, “the war,” came to an end on Wednesday when the 4th Stryker Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, was officially designated the last combat brigade to leave Iraq.  Granted, there will still be upwards of 50,000 of our men and women in uniform remaining for another year in a “non-combat” role, whatever that means,* but after seven plus years of unwarranted American ass-kicking in Babylon it’s kind of a slap in the face to our military who has sacrificed life and limb that this story hardly warranted a blip on the media radar screen. Sure, MSNBC covered it extensively. That’s about it. The Cooper Scooper gave it equal time with the “Ground Zero Mosque” non-story, and FauxNews gave it literally10 minutes of air time.

I figure it’s because all the bloviating, “America Fuck Yeah” testosterone-fueled war mongering that Republican jack offs and their wives/mistresses have been a-fearing us with since 9/11 has essentially ended because Obama kept yet another campaign promise to the American people. Are we suddenly safer? Does Iraq have a stable, democratically elected government and a security force in place to protect its citizens? No and no. Does it fucking matter to the interests of the United States? Hell no. It never did. We’ve wasted billions with a “b” and now we get to slink off in the night like a hotel guest who’s over stayed his welcome and must now make a hasty exit.

I find it laughable that the number one issue that brought the Democrats into power in 2006 – the Iraq war – has degenerated into such a “whatever” news story that most people don’t know about it or care to.  There are plenty of cynics (myself included) who believe this withdrawal may have been timed just perfectly for the mid-term elections coming up in November. However, if no one gives a shit about it, how can it have the desired influence on voters?

With all the lazy journalism taking place today it’s no wonder. How easy is it to spout an opinion about the merits of building a mosque at Ground Zero? An unwinnable argument void of even the basest of facts. Here’s a flash, 1 – it’s not a mosque, it’s a community center with an area for worship. There will be no calls to prayer or any of that; 2 – it’s TWO BLOCKS AWAY from the supposed hallowed ground where the towers formerly stood, the same distance as two famous titty bars, on OTB and several tacky street merchants selling useless crap created in Chinese labor camps commemorating the 9/11 tragedy; 3 – it’s the builder’s Constitutional Right to build this center.  Cue the resurgence of that ridiculous whisper campaign that Obama is Muslim. The White House had to actually issue a statement to placate these idiots whose ignorance is matched only by their hatred for the Commander in Chief. Because, you know, it’s news.

If only the collective intelligentsia in the news media (I realize this is a small club) would start a real conversation about what is happening in the country – deliberately excluding all the loud noises coming from the right - and actually inform the populace we might make some real progress in our quest to be the greatest nation on earth. As it stands, apparently we’re only number 11. 

*Aren’t all soldiers armed and combat ready regardless of their status? Christ, kitchen workers carry assault rifles!

I Gotta Take a Leak or Screaming Into the Void

Back in the olden days when I was a student of journalism, blogs were a little known oddity, You Tube didn’t exist and 2.0 meant nothing. The number one lesson hammered into us budding Murrows at every opportunity and in every class was to check your facts, then check them again. And whenever possible, name your source because articles that quoted, “unnamed government officials” or “sources say” were not credible. We were told time and again that the number one job of the journalist is to report the most accurate, hole-less news as possible. My, how things have changed.

Recently there has been much hemming and hawing over the 90,000 documents released by WikiLeaks. Included in this data dump is classified information pertaining to the war in Afghanistan. Apparently, WikiLeaks founder and part time comic book villain, Julian Assange, believes that it is his right to leak such information in an era of guerilla “journalism” where everything is fair game and if you get the documents, no matter how dubious the source, it is your right to publish them. The process has been coined Political Hacktivism which explains perfectly the situation we find ourselves in today. The content of the leaked documents, though disturbing, is not the real story here. The real story is that the media has collectively decided that what could very well constitute a treasonable offense against the United States government is somehow appropriate news. The fact that Mr. Assange has a distinct political agenda also appears not to matter. He isn’t a US citizen, but the idiot who sent him the information happens to be one of our boys in uniform. He has been captured, by the way. But what does this mean for the Americans at the New York Times, who willfully published classified materials? Should they be taken into custody as well?

Then we have the cabal of political pundits who dominate the cable news channels. Cable newsrooms have become nothing more than ghettos for greedy public relations hacks with clear agendas that do absolutely nothing to advance American discourse or at the very least inform the public – which in the end is really their fucking job! There can be only so much spin before it becomes an amusement park ride and the proprietors little more than carnival barkers. Case in point, the Shirley Sherrod debacle.

The depraved little right-wing turd/blogger known as Andrew Breitbart took it upon himself to edit a video to make this poor woman look and sound like every white low-information moron’s nightmare – a black racist! This horrific outrage, taken to its full and predictable conclusion by FOX news, achieved its desired effect. The NAACP and the Obama Administration both took the bait and promptly condemned this woman without even a cursory attempt at checking the facts.

And sadly, it’s not the first time this fuckwad Breitbart has duped the White House. Remember ACORN? It was his special brand of hack “journalism” that brought down a respectable organization whose mission was to help the poorest, and coincidentally brownest, of the poor. In the end, ACORN was somewhat vindicated – but only after it was completely destroyed with no hope of starting up again – thus leaving countless people without assistance where it’s needed most. Mission accomplished. To add insult to injury, Michael Steele (AKA Humpty) has invited Breitbart to speak at a republican fundraiser in August . This action lends credibility to Breitbart as if he were a real journalist and not just a blogging hack. He holds the football, the rest of the media collectively try to kick it. You know the rest.

It is on that note that I reluctantly dip my toe back into the cesspool that is the blogosphere.

Absinthe is not for everyone....

It’s no secret that I am a long time connoisseur of the recently legalized libation known as absinthe. Admittedly, it was my great love of Oscar Wilde and Vincent van Gogh that prompted me to experiment with the drink, so I completely understand the temptation to dabble based on the stories of idols past – and sometimes present.

One of my greatest pleasures is sitting at an outdoor café in New Orleans – away from the noise and 24/7 freak show that is Bourbon Street – and sipping a glass or two of the green fairy in late afternoon. I’ve done this on the few fortunate occasions that I’ve been able to visit the Big Easy. Somehow the atmosphere of Pirate’s Alley and the adjacent St. Louis cathedral heightens the experience for me, and I assume countless others. However, this last visit I witnessed some of the silliest examples of pop mentality since Coors beer became legal in Connecticut.

Scores of 20-nothings began flooding into the bar, cameras at the ready, to order their first taste of the ancient elixir. Perhaps they’d heard of Johnny Depp’s love for the drink, or worse still, Marilyn Manson’s. I’ve got nothing against either gentleman. It’s not their fault that they’ve unwittingly turned on (and quickly turned off) an entire new generation of sheep to Artemisia absinthium. Everyone should try it once.

What pissed me off as I was quietly trying to enjoy my $10 dram of Lucid was the asinine giddiness of the crowd. Girls in giggling groups wanting their pictures snapped holding the milky glasses. The constant requests for ice. Who the fuck puts ice in absinthe? Then the heartbreaking sight of half filled glasses lining the bar as the girls realized that they really didn’t like the taste and what was the big deal anyway? Off to get a Hurricane. What a waste!

Personally, I like my absinthe prepared in the classic French way. I don’t need the pyrotechnic display so popularized by the Czechs. Absinthe is a quiet sipping spirit. It takes time to hit you, and when it does, you should be in the right frame of mind. It’s not a race. You don’t drink it like a Kamikaze shot, and it doesn’t mix will with other forms of alcohol. Furthermore, it does not belong in a plastic cup to be consumed on the go.

Perhaps as time goes by the allure will subside a bit, or better still, people will know what they’re getting into before sidling up to the bar for their first experience with the over hyped thujone. Until then, fortunately, I’ve got a bottle of Grande and a stock of sugar cubes at home.

Governor Rell 2 for 2...

As if 24 hour bar service at the casinos wasn't cause enough to wonder about the future reputation of Connecticut, I give you the latest installment on how to officially turn the Nutmeg state into the white trash capital of America. Governor Rell is in negotiations to bring the Jerry Springer Show to lovely Stamford.

Jerry Springer Show to Leave Chicago for Connecticut

For decades, Connecticut has made a concerted effort to put on a face of snobbery and wealth. We are invariably associated with the likes of Martha Stewart, Katherine Hepburn, Fairfield County, country clubs and upper class Yankees who make at least seven figures and pay the highest taxes in the country because they can.

Of course all of this is a crock of shit. It's true, we've got ample pockets and hamlets where reside some of the wealthiest go-getters and even older money, but we've also got the poorest capital city in America, a swelling budget deficit, and yes, a disturbing number of trailer parks.

However, as a native nutmegger I take offense at this latest sweetheart deal offered to NBC Universal. Why must Connecticut become an active contributor to the trashification of America? It's bad enough we all must struggle just to maintain residence here, but to once and for all lose our perceived status as having a modicum of class is too harsh a blow in these desperate times.

Governor Rell you must reconsider. I implore you. Don't turn Connecticut into the Florida of the north!

When all else fails...get drunk you losers!

Our illustrious Governor in her infinite wisdom about how to fix the budget woes of this pathetic state has come up with this brilliant gem of enlightenment.

Rell Proposes 24-Hour Bar Service At State's Casinos


Gambling revenues have kind of tanked ever since huge swaths of betting slobs residing in the Nutmeg State decided that it might be a good idea to pay the electric bill rather than blow their weeks' pay at Mohegan Sun.

It's bad enough that Chief Fist Full of Cash and the gang get to operate two of the largest casinos in the world, despite the fact that it is illegal to operate a casino in the state of Connecticut. Now they want to give the finger to the local bars who are obliged to obey the arcane liquor laws and close up shop by 2:00 a.m.

And as an aside, Connecticut has more than its fair share of drunken assholes speeding around it's dark back roads in the wee hours. The last thing we need is an unlimited supply of cheap well drinks in a phony atmosphere that pumps pure oxygen through every vent to keep these Otises alert only long enough to get them out the door and staggering into their cars where the full force of reality smacks them in the head.

I will bet my last Wampambuck that the "Indians" are griping because their profit margins are heading downward as more people see the reason in holding onto their cash rather than essentially flushing it down the toilet. I wonder if Governor Rell's bright idea has anything to do with the fact that the Attorney General's office just went on record denouncing any plans for the "reservations" to be expanded beyond their set parameters.

Happy Birthday

It’s been a year since I started this blog. It began as a way to cope with the writers’ strike and the fact that my favorite shows (Colbert and Daily) were sent into reruns for over a month. Boredom and frustration set in, so I figured I’d create an outlet for my angst that became Web Dunce official.

The changes that took place this past year, both for the country and for me personally have been quite profound. I’ve never used this blog as a space for anything personal going on in my life, but let’s just say that my human experience has broadened across the spectrum of complete elation and happiness to total loss. I’ve grown, luckily not in the physical sense.

I spent a good portion of this past year living in a semi-reality. Going on dream dates to political rallies with my imaginary boyfriend, Steve, letting cable news become my new drug of choice, and getting though a mid life crisis by submerging myself into acting and screen writing in an attempt to keep busy and not dwell too long on things that I cannot change.

Through all the ups and downs, it still turned out to be a pretty good year. I got to see Barack Obama speak in person, my job is turning out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me professionally, and I’m married to the greatest guy in the world. Not too shabby. I still remain a total cynic, but in a healthy observant way. Though I’d like to have more time to contribute to this blogging endeavor, I’ll do my best to keep it going for as long as I’m able. So raise a glass in solidarity fair reader, even though the half full cup is a third backwash.

An Open Letter to Undecided Voters....

Dear UV,

For the past several months you have had your collective ass kissed on a daily basis by both candidates in an attempt to sway your sorry low-information thought process in their direction. Endless rallies, mailers, television commercials and emails have bombarded you with truth and lies about where Obama and McCain stand on the basic issues that affect all of us, yes, even you, though you may be too stupid to realize it.

We’ve seen your like on countless news shows expounding your opinions and your perceived knowledge of the political process, and we hear the same tired lowest common denominator responses, “I just don’t know.” “I can’t really see any difference between the two candidates.” You really just aren’t listening! Maybe it’s good old fashioned American ADHD taking hold. Perhaps the concepts are too far above your level of understanding. Whatever the reason, you’ve been coddled long enough.

The poster child for your ilk – though he has apparently chosen a side – is Joe the Plumber. This douche bag of the first water has no business even casting a vote because he has no fundamental understanding of anything. When Obama gave him a thorough answer to his ridiculous pie in the sky question about the potential earnings of the business he wants to buy (though has absolutely no means whatsoever to purchase said business) he likened Obama to Sammy Davis, Jr. tap dancing around the issue. Here’s part of Obama’s “unclear” answer:

Obama said, "First off, you would get a 50% tax credit so you'd get a tax cut for your healthcare costs….. if your revenue is above 250 – then from 250 down, your taxes are going to stay the same. It is true that from 250 up – from 250 – 300 or so, so for that additional amount, you’d go from 36 to 39%, which is what it was under Bill Clinton. And the reason why we’re doing that is because 95% of small businesses make less than 250. So what I want to do is give them a tax cut. I want to give all these folks who are bus drivers, teachers, auto workers who make less, I want to give them a tax cut. And so what we’re doing is, we are saying that folks who make more than 250 that that marginal amount above 250 – they’re gonna be taxed at a 39 instead of a 36% rate.”

For the full exchange click here.

Both candidates have provided the masses with clear plans on how they will govern if elected. Obama has a 63 page plan called The Blueprint for Change. It’s pretty comprehensive and chock full of new ideas. You might want to take a glance at it. That is, of course, if you can focus for more than 30 seconds. McCain also has a plan. It’s not as in-depth as Obama’s (Republican plans are notoriously vague and McCain’s is no exception), but it’s something. Very clearly set out. It will take you less time to digest, so why don’t you start there.

The contrast between these two candidates and their philosophies is literally black and white. If you can’t find some agreement with either plan, then frankly, you just shouldn’t bother to vote. It pains me to think that your vote is as legitimate as mine, but such is the rule of a democracy. I’ve studied the facts, stressed through the insults and scandals, registered voters and tried my best to do my patriotic duty as an American by staying as informed as possible. Meanwhile, you’ve been watching reruns of The Gilmore Girls and reading way too many anonymous emails. So at this late stage in the game let me offer a tid-bit of advice. When you are eenee-meeny-miny-mowing your way through the ballot tomorrow, please start with McCain.

Can we get a little sanity here?

The cable news Hurricane Gustav spectacle this weekend was bested only by the utter lunacy of the Republican National Convention screeching to a halt because New Orleans might possibly – oh you never can tell – better call in the guard – experience another hurricane.

Everyone was salivating at the prospect of a direct hit on my second favorite city. News crews - local and national – were constantly checking in with low level reporting jack-offs standing in the pouring rain and intense wind eager to show the eyes of the world that yes, they will do just about anything to get on camera. Even the Cooper Scooper had on his traditional, “I’m a serious field reporter” black tee-shirt. Will the levees hold? What about the 10,000 who refused to leave? Look, if those levees can’t withstand a category one hurricane then we might as well throw up our hands in disgust and pack it all in because that would be proof positive that we are a nation of fucktards.

I’m sure you don’t need to be reminded just what exactly Dubya and McCain were doing during Hurricane Katrina, but here’s a visual to jar your memory:

The solemn convention was yet another opportunity for Republicans to flash their vaudeville credentials. I especially liked Laura Bush’s remark about the Gulf Coast governors, “They’re all strong leaders – and they were planning to be here with us today – and they all happen to be republicans.” No shit. Were they expecting any democratic governors to attend?

Look here as our First Lady and her ecto-skeletal potential successor give a weather update and ask people to donate money as if the convention were the Jerry Lewis Labor Day Telethon:

Finally, here’s a little dose of sanity:

Netural Friday....

What a week. Wow. Extreme highs and new and inconceivable lows. I keep asking myself if there will ever be a time when we can all, as Americans, collectively say that things are just fine. Sometimes we get signs. Obama’s presumptive win of the Democratic nominee for president was a glimmer of hope. Watching him and Michelle take the stage in Minnesota was an image for the history books, folks. They are one of those couples that for some strange and unexplainable reason you feel like you know. Maybe it’s a generational thing. Maybe they have perceived qualities that you see in yourself – or would like to. You sense a familiarity, a vibe that theirs is a team effort, and like most American marriages today, it’s a 50/50 proposition. Intellectual equals on the same page. And the fist bump was priceless! She looked stunning, by the way, and his speech was chock full of gems like this:

“Thousands of miles have been traveled. Millions of voices have been heard. And because of what you said — because you decided that change must come to Washington; because you believed that this year must be different than all the rest; because you chose to listen not to your doubts or your fears but to your greatest hopes and highest aspirations, tonight we mark the end of one historic journey with the beginning of another — a journey that will bring a new and better day to America.”

It gave me goose bumps. One could see that he was visibly moved knowing that millions are counting on him to right an awful lot of wrongs. It was a Camelot moment if ever there was one.

So at least the week got off to a positive start. The spouse and I had just returned from a trip to Virginia to visit relatives and hang around on the Mall in DC. I got to stand at the Lincoln Memorial, something I’ve wanted to do for many years, taking in all the freedom and democracy my little heart could stand – Dr. King, civil rights, the war protests, the milestones in 20^th century American history that have used the memorial as the backdrop for visual messages that strike at the heart of what is good and right in this country. We also went to the Capitol, which also filled me with a deep sense of American pride. Although it was the week of eighth grade Hell, and it seemed as if every middle school graduating class in the country had converged on the Capitol in one obnoxious, girl shrieking, sweaty running boy sea of color-coded tee-shirts, cell phones and camera poses. There wasn’t a ticket to be had. My sojourn into the Rotunda will have to wait until January when Obama is inaugurated.

Meanwhile, Hartford CT had a week of unprecedented violence and bullshit. An elderly man was run over on Park Street by some speeding jackass in hot pursuit of another speeding jackass. Most disturbing was the fact that no one stopped to help this man – not even passing cars! The video footage shows several cars slowing down, taking a grizzly look, and moving on. Moving on! Leaving his body just lying there, in the street, vulnerable to being hit yet again. He is now paralyzed from the neck down. What a way to live out your golden years. Almost simultaneously, a famous former Hartford city official member and activist, 71-year-old Nicholas Carbone, was mugged at 9:00 in the morning by three men and kicked in the face so hard that he will require brain surgery. This done to a man who dedicated his life to making Hartford a decent place to live. Conveniently, there were no witnesses. The illustrious mayor, Eddie Perez, could only comment that crime in the city is actually down. I feel so much better now! Honestly, what the fuck is happening to people? Have we all gone completely crazy?

I guess you could say that locally it just wasn’t our week. Even Joe “Fuck You Democrats” Lieberman has supposedly started a grass roots organization called, “Citizens for McCain” which in fact isn’t even an organization at all - it’s nothing more than a way for the McCain campaign to get the names and emails of potential financial supporters. Way to go, Joe! Thank god you’re no longer a super-delegate.

Usually I like to end my weeks with a “Happy Friday,” but today it’s just Neutral Friday.

Some thoughts on Valentine's Day......

Is it me, or is there an obnoxious Valentine’s Day marketing push this year? When did Russell Stover start making commercials? And those burly blue collar guys revealing their wives’ bloodlust for cheap chocolates – give me a break. The Flowers.com commercials are equally as annoying. They have these totally dickish guys talking about how easy it is to order flowers, the full price and how many orders they’ve made. One guy made 24 orders. If you do the math at thirty bucks a pop times 24, that’s a whopping $720! But what is more unbelievable is that he looks like a total dork which leads me to believe a) he has a lot of sisters, or b) he rivals Ron Jeremy in the goods department. Perhaps most disturbing of all are the Vermont Teddy Bear ads. Who in their right mind pays $50 for a stupid teddy bear dressed in lingerie? Are women really that crazy? I don’t think so. 

Maybe I’m so cynical about Valentine’s Day because it is the day my parents were married. My parents – Helene and Paul – quite possibly the most dysfunctional pairing since Lucy and Desi – whose marriage, separation and merciful divorce spanned three decades. My father was big on the holiday. Every year he’d bring my sister and me boxes of chocolates, cards and flowers. It was our special time, an acknowledgment of his love for the three girls in his life. And my mother, well she’d get expensive jewelry (as is Sicilian style). Only she wasn’t interested in trinkets and baubles. What she really wanted were the two things that my father could never give – fidelity and a financial security. So one day when I was nine, he left, and I stopped getting Valentine gifts. To this day I still have the last card he ever gave me. It’s big and pink and full of glitter with cut-out pieces that form a tiara and paper jewelry – because I was still his little princess then. Are your eyes welling up? Go get a Kleenex, I’ll wait…..

So anyway, such is the triteness of my childhood and the reason that I never put too much stock in the holiday. I often remind my husband to thank his lucky stars that he has indeed married the coolest chick he will ever meet in this lifetime or the next. Usually we just exchange cards. Occasionally he’ll get me flowers, though I think their prices are way too jacked up for Valentine’s and usually by the time he gets around to buying them they are half dead. He’s not the best flower picker but he has other more redeeming qualities. This year I let him know that all I really want from him is a love letter and to refrain from farting in the kitchen. When I told him I wanted a love letter he looked at me as if I’d just asked him for a kidney. The terror in his eyes was that of a dog who for no reason has just been kicked in the gut by a trusted master. Couldn’t this be better expressed in a clever card or perhaps more physically? No. It’s a love letter or nothing. I don’t care if it’s on a post-it note. Will I receive this much coveted article of ephemera? Probably not. I guess I’ll have to be content with a flatulence-free dinner and maybe a slow dance in the living room. But even that beats a Vermont fucking teddy bear!

Are You Feelin the Joy Yet? Musings and Threats from a Recovering Catholic

I’ve been talking about it for years. That annual empty threat of canceling Christmas. Retreating to some quiet pastoral space to reflect, alone, in the moment, the general peace that comes over me when I know that I don’t have to worry about hosting a party, breaking the bank with useless gifts and dealing with the general bedlam that ensues anytime more than two members of my family are in the same room together. Past years have been all talk and no action, but the seemingly endless mound of steaming bullshit that has made 2007 so craptacular has fostered a renewed resolve in me to boycott all things “ho ho ho.” That includes trees, garlands, cards, “happy holidays” wishes, cookies (well, maybe not cookies) and most importantly, gifts. The reasons for what others will speculate as a Bah Humbug approach to December 25^th will likely dance around issues of childlessness, laziness, low funds or a combination of the three. There is truth to the laziness bit, but in reality I’m calling the whole thing off because I just don’t enjoy it anymore. In the past I eagerly anticipated the big day, made plans and had an overall feeling of love and “spirit” if you will for my fellow humans – related and otherwise. Now it looms as an abysmal reminder of purchases, preparations and obligations. And the kicker is that I’m not even a Christian. My family identifies themselves as Catholic, though this seems to be more in name than actions (except for my mother – all true Christian props to her for all time). But in America, let’s face it Christmas is nothing more than a marketing campaign. Messages are blurred, kids are confused. I’m doing my part to ignore it but each day a new card arrives and I begin to get those residually Catholic pangs of guilt that somehow I should reciprocate, however small, a gesture of goodwill in the form of a widget from China. Can I hold my ground? Stand firm in my resolve? There are 14 days till the big one and I’ve got no tree, no cards and no gifts. Will December 24^th be filled with a caffeine induced shopping frenzy at the nearest mall? Will I finally put a bullet in my television if one more Garmin ad interrupts my nightly Colbert rerun? Stay tuned………Om mani padme hum