A trip to MEMRI this evening found this paragraph in a compilation (third paragraph) of what the Saudi press was saying about the Crown Prince's visit with President Bush:
That would be the Fire Department that lost hundreds of its Bravest as a result of two groups of Saudi citizens plowing a couple of passenger jets into the World Trade Center.
The nerve of that line goes beyond any definition I can think of. The entire New York City Fire Department. Send the prince to talk with even one New York City fire company, they'll show him what anger is.
Fifteen of the nineteen. Osama bin Laden. A gift from Saudi Arabia to you, America. permalink
Laurence Simon of Amish Tech Support has a wicked, wicked sense of humor.
He's sent in an entry for the Guardian's contest to choose the new European Union flag.
I like it a lot. I think you will, too. permalink
Victor Davis Hanson turns Edward Said's words back on him with an essay about the East vs. West:
Haven't read the news, or turned on the tube, or done anything at all except gotten up, showered, ran out to the grocery store to buy cat food (sorry, guys) and things for dinner with my brother tonight (Yukon Gold potato chips, yum!), and had brunch. I think it's mostly because I took a Benadryl last night both to get rid of a sinus headache and to try to knock me out so I can get rid of this on-again, off-again stomach virus. The result was falling asleep hours earlier than usual, and waking up feeling like I need another ten hours' sleep. Man, the heaviness of antihistamines that affects your body for the next day or two is worse than being sick, sometimes.
So we'll just write about the fun stuff today. Like going outside to check on Gracie, calling her when I can't see her, and watching her race out of the bush and up the sidewalk at my call. Or watching her sniff a dandelion puff and get half the seeds stuck to the fur of her face. Or watching Tig come charging down the sidewalk, running like a jackrabbit, two front legs at once, two back legs, one big, fat Tigger butt jiggling.
I took a pass on the "English Country Faire" at Edgemont Park this year; you can dig through my archives and find out what happened last year. Even the duck-herding couldn't tempt me today, though the weather is superb once more.
And may I add that I think there is a worse thing to be than a Christmas baby. That is a Mother's Day baby, which is what my older brother is. Every year, he gets robbed because the two days are either too close together or the same day. Well, happy birthday, Er, and maybe we'll hit Holsten's for dessert. permalink
Asparagirl has a great couple of posts. Today's is about the Israel Day Parade:
I was going to write about how the European and American "activists" holed up in the Church of the Nativity didn't want to come out. But then I read Bruce Hill's post about it, and now I don't have to.
That's my sweetie.
The article says the "activists" (we should just call them terrorist sympathizing scum and be done with it) wanted to have a lawyer present before they would leave. I'm amazed they didn't insist on Amnesty and Human Rights Watch. Greenpeace, too, what the hell.
There's also this article, which details the filth and weapons (including bombs) the peaceful, innocent Palestinians left behind, as well as how they used the altar in the Armenian section of the basilica as a table for meals. Yeah, tells us again how much the Islamofascists respect Christians and Christian tradition. And you'll hear nothing about this, because Arab Christians are in the minority and regularly threatened and brutalized by Arab Muslims living in the same cities and towns. Not unlike how Jews were treated before the modern State of Israel was born. permalink
My best friend's husband does a hilarious imitation of Sylvester Stallone as Judge Dredd, the awful film based on the pretty bad comic book. At least once during each visit there, he has to pull out his Stallone Judge Dredd, and it's most likely because it cracks me up every time. In order to have the full idea of the imitation, it's not just the four words in Sly Stallone style--he changes the emphasis of the words each time he utters the sentence. "I am the law." "I am the law." It's sort of like watching an actor practicing lines for an audition, with the added charm of being from a really bad movie by a really bad actor. As I said, I laugh every time.
I was reminded of this because reader Lynn B. sent me a letter making me aware that there is a Palestinian organization called LAW, which, of course, documents Israeli abuses, real and perceived, of Palestinian human rights. Besides human rights, their society, they tell us, "represents Palestinians in legal cases to do with the environment, on the basis that environmental rights are integral to human rights." And may I say, "Huh?"
The reason I mention this organization is because they have issued a press release objecting to the deportation of the terrorists holed up in the Church of the Nativity, on human rights grounds. Well, now I'll let Lynn speak.
By the way, a search of their website brings many instances of complaints about Palestinian deaths due to Israeli soldiers, but I could not find a single instance of LAW protesting the deaths of alleged "collaborators" at the hands of the Palestinian "police force" or other masked Palestinians. Why am I not surprised? permalink
From the Miami Herald: Arab States Want UN Children Meeting to Rap Israel
And here's the nut graf:
I never thought I'd ever utter these words, but now I'm doing it. Will someone please tell me why we're even bothering to remain a member of this corrupt, racist, dictator-supporting, Jew-hating, anti-democratic organization? Its sole purpose these days seems to be sheltering dictatorships from criticism while attacking Israel and/or the United States at every opportunity.
And yet--it gets worse.
Pipebomb boy wanted to make a statement. He was trying to draw a "happy face" on the map--with the placement of his bombs. No, this isn't SatireWire or the Onion. This is for real. This idiot blew off granny's fingers because he wanted to draw a smiley face.
How sick do you have to be to do something like this?
Maybe putting him in a federal prison might wipe that smirk off his face. Please, please, please put him in the general population.
I'm going to stop before I wind up throwing this laptop across the room. permalink
I like stealing movie titles for headers; so sue me.
I was catching up on Bill Allison's Ideofact this afternoon, as he wrote that he had added more thoughts on the abominable Arab News editorial profiled immediately below. And it occurs to me that if you don't have the time to read books like Bernard Lewis' "What Went Wrong?", you could probably read Ideofact instead for a thoughtful review and analysis. And then scroll down the rest of the page, where you'll be treated to a quick history of invention during the Dark and Middle Ages, and why Western civilization outstripped Islam in developing technologies, and a host of more fascinating and worthwhile reading.
In fact, I highly recommend reading Bill's current main page from top to bottom. Or from bottom to top, if you're into chronological order. Discussion on the issues without polemics--imagine that. Bill's a wonderful writer. I'd put him on your must-read list.
The only thing more annoying than junk mail is junk mail contaminated with an odious perfume from another piece of junk mail. And I don't seem to have received the odious other piece of junk mail--yet my mail reeks of lousy perfume.
Odius. Reeks. What elegant forms of the word "stink" we have. Ain't English grand?
Bill Allison over at Ideofact pointed out this--this--this abomination. It's an editorial in the Arab News, Saudi Arabia's daily English newspaper. Nothing goes in this paper without the sanction of the Saudi dictatorship, and remember--this is Saudi Arabia, our "partners in peace," who are pushing their "peace plan" for the Middle East.
I tried to write a sarcastic blow-by-blow, but it didn't work. This article isn't funny, it's sad. It is tragic. It is evil. It is an attempt by the organ of the Saudi dictatorship to justify terrorism against Israel and Jews while decrying terrorism against the French, or any other foreign nationals in Pakistan.
I can't make fun of words like these without losing a little bit of my soul:
I can't crack wise on this:
Their "logical conclusion" is that the deaths of Jews are always excusable and downright correct; the deaths of the French are a shame because the French hate the Jews, too. And the above paragraphs are merely a prelude to being able to blame Israel for both the deaths of the French and the deaths of the terrorists who killed the French.
The astonishing moral relativism sickens me more than anything I have previously read or heard by an Arab nation justifying terrorism against Israel and the Jews. These are the ideas they would spread through the world? These are the people our State Department and President treat like honored friends, while giving the Israelis the back of their hand?
The behavior of the Bush Administration toward these parasites--and they are parasites, producing nothing of worth, contributing nothing of worth, knowing only how to take money for the oil that sheer coincidence brought to their arid, worthless, god-forsaken lands--shames me, and it shames our nation. permalink
Medley sent me an email suggesting that my upstairs neighbor's mystery machine may be a rowing machine. She may be right; I haven't asked him yet. I don' t know if he was using it this morning. I know I was up at 5:30, but I don' t know if that would be his fault or the stomach virus that I've been fighting on and off for the past week. It seems to be losing at the moment, but man, it was winning this morning. But I think it's also possible he may secretly worship Roy Rogers and be practicing his lariat, thus allowing for the strange whirring noises. Hey, ya never know.
The thing about living in a crowded suburban area like Montclair is that you, well, hear things. Meet people. And did I mention hear things?
Someone in an apartment nearby plays the flute. Someone else plays the trumpet. So during warm weather, I hear them practicing. The trumpet guy is newer than flute person (who seems to play the same descending scales, over and over and over and OVER!), and, well, maybe even less experienced. So a week or two ago, I had my balcony door open, and I heard trumpet guy practicing "Taps". You haven't experienced weird until you've heard someone who can't quite play the trumpet attempt to play "Taps". It was lame enough that perhaps it could have been played for someone with a cold, but definitely not for someone with the flu.
Yet another buzzing insect update: There is a hole in my apartment. There is absolutely a hole in my apartment, and this morning, a wasp found it, and then it decided it would take a tour of my bedroom. While Gracie leaped about in a vain quest to capture the wasp, I threw the sheet over my head and waited for it to vacate the room, as it is now warm enough to sleep in shorts and a t-shirt, which I was. (I found my favorite Hulk t-shirt. The one with the scene on the mountaintop from the Peter David days--"I lied". Hm. I just may have to dig out my Hulk collection and reread those.) Far too much bare flesh with which to tempt a stinging insect.
I did not ask it to show me its belly. permalink
File13 has another hilarious reason to visit: He's resurrected the 2,000 year-old man.
And so another primal scream wraps itself deeply within my mind, as I watch reports of another 15 dead Jews, scores more injured. And I think to myself, well, there goes your schizophrenic blog of yesterday.
No. Not yet. This time, I will maintain my schizophrenia. When I can stop thinking about my people being killed, I will write about my experiences with bees and trips to the vet and dinners with James. And it occurs to me I forgot to credit the kind readers who sent me information on the bees (besides my brother, that is, who sent me three articles on carpenter bees--dude--one was more than enough). Ah, here they are--Cheri and Mike J. Thanks, folks!
And the fact that this goddamned bottled water tastes like the plastic I bought it in. Eeyuck. permalink
Mr. Hanson has another brilliant piece in NRO.
Because only a Jew, of course, would sympathize with Israel as deeply as does Mr. Hanson. It has nothing to do with the righteousness of the cause.
For the past few weeks, many bloggers and journalists have been noting that large pro-Israel rallies have been ignored by the major media outlets. The New York Times makes sure its front-page picture of Sunday's Israel Day Parade has a prominent anti-Israel banner held by protestors in front of the marchers for Israel. All the New York networks buried the parade several stories in, as a local murder was deemed more important than a parade that drew hundreds of thousands (unlike, say the St. Patrick's Day Parade, which usually leads the news).
What does it take, we wonder, to get important Israeli news to the fore?
It's another one of those thoughtful days. It is also another one of those schizophrenic days, in the old, incorrect meaning of the word (the multiple personalities meaning, that is). I could call it Blog DOD, but then people would think I mean Department of Defense, not Dissociative Identity Disorder, which is, uh, DID, not DOD. (By the way, my Arpanet folks made it back in the nick of time last month, and there are more visits this month, so I am happy. I missed having you around. I'd give you a shout-out, but I don't know where you are other than Arpanet. Oh, what the hell: Hey, Arpanet! Glad to have you aboard.)
Would somebody call the Parentheses Police and report me before I strike again? Thank you.
What I was trying to say, before I so rudely interrupted myself, was that I was corresponding, as usual, with a correspondent (oh, gawd, she's really hitting the bad jokes today), and the Meaning Of Blogging came up, albeit briefly. And since I'm in such an egocentric place at the moment, of course I meant the Meaning Of My Blogging.
The upshot is that I seem to have regained a bit of my center, if I may psych-speak, or would that be New-Age-Speak? Nah, it's just a term that means I'm feeling a bit better, thank you. And a little less likely to turn into Hulk Smash!
And so my weblog gets to bounce you back and forth between the Middle East and the fact that I have discovered that I am finally, finally, finally free of soap operas! And that it's barefoot weather, and now my new neighbor has some kind of exercise machine that he uses at 5 a.m., which is quite unacceptable to me as my bedroom is directly below his, and let me ask you--what kind of machine sounds like a whirring rope? It couldn't have been a jump rope, as there were no loud thumps, but there was a strange, loud buzzing noise as of someone twirling a lariat and then chasing it slowly across the room. Couldn't have been a treadmill, because it moved. An abdominizer? Does that make a weird whirring noise as you roll it across the floor?
These questions are important, and must be answered! Because I may just have to move my exercise machine, which squeaks horribly, into the bedroom and make my exercise routine, oh, around midnight.
Yeah, I'm feeling much better these days. My level of anxiety has retreated a bit. Here's hoping it stays this way, at the very least. permalink
Watching and reading the news about the end of the siege, I've been laughing out loud more than once. Because these so-called innocent Palestinians--the dozen or so hard-core terrorists that Israel wants to exile to Europe--can't find a taker. Nobody wants a bunch of murderers in their hands.
Hey. I'm sure they could find a peace activist or three who wouldn't mind sponsoring them. No? Funny, that. The Europeans are all for stopping Israel from arresting the terrorists, but they won't allow them to set foot in their nations. Could they be afraid terrorist strikes and hostage-taking would happen to get the hard-cores out of jail?
Ya think? permalink
Ben Henick is a weblog pal of mine who knew me when, and who has far superior web development skills than mine, and a fascinating weblog as well. His style is unique--nobody else has a weblog set up quite the way he does. And I'm embarrassed that I'd forgotten to put him on my links page. He's there now. Take a little time to check around his site. In between the web development stuff are gems like this:
Gretchen Pirillo linked to me ages ago, and I forgot to put her on my links page. This is now fixed. Apologies, Gretchen.
One of these days I'm going to have to go through the past several months worth of blogs and update my links pages. That'll probably be the same week I clean out my spare room. No, really, I have to. I'm moving in about two months.
Some very sweet and informative readers sent me information on the species of bee that was trapped in my doorframe. Although I never did get a look at its abdomen to see if it was a carpenter bee, I suspect it was, as there are many of them flying around the eaves of my apartment building. (Black, shiny abdomen = carpenter bee, striped, fuzzy abdomen = bumblebee--but they never did tell me if bumblebees sting, and the last words I was thinking would be "Show me your belly" when confronted with a possible stinging insect in my home. I do, however, say "Let me see your belly" nearly every day to Tig, because he needs to have his belly brushed as well as his back. He doesn't sting, but he bites and scratches, sometimes when showing you his belly because you get a little too close to his nether regions with the brush. Oops.)
There was that digression thing again. Oh, the new buzzing insect. Well. Yesterday, in my kitchen window, between the screen/storm window and the closed window, was a yellowjacket. Now those I know, having had the misfortune of stepping on one while barefoot some years ago.
I did not ask it to show me its belly. permalink
There's this Brit, you see, who likes to go into small-town America and then misrepresent American opinions and, well, America itself. He was properly excoriated last time around, but this did not stop him from going to a town called Chunky, Mississippi, and proclaiming that--wait for it--Americans are fat. Lee Ann over at Spinsters.com takes aim at our British analyst, but I saw something that had me on the floor that she apparently missed. Emphasis mine.
It is almost impossible, Matthew Engel says, to carry a gallon of milk. An American gallon weighs eight pounds, apparently, our much stronger and healthier Brits are able to carry ten pounds of milk without mechanical aid, whereas we rely on, um--well, he didn't say. Perhaps our gallons of milk drop from the sky and appear in our refrigerators magically. But apparently, in Engel's small-town America, you can't buy half-gallons or quarts or pints of milk. You are forced to buy it in gallon containers, which you can't carry. So one must assume that the gallon containers wind up discarded by exhausted buyers, forming a heap outside the door of the milk store, growing day by day into an impenetrable wall surrounding the small path into the store, all the while the smell of spoiled milk rotting in the hot Mississippi sun permeates the air of little Chunky town.
Or maybe it's not so hard to carry a gallon of milk. I mean--eight pounds. My cat weighs twice as much as a gallon of milk, and he doesn't come with a handle. Somehow, I do manage to get him in his five-pound carrier to the vet's without fainting from exhaustion due to my American obesity. Sometimes I have both cats in the carrier, and Gracie weighs one and a half times as much as a gallon of milk.
Hm. Perhaps we should invite Mr. Engel here, where he can write a column on the morbid obesity of American cats, based on his anecdotal information on mine. It would probably be as factually accurate as his article on Chunky, Mississippi. permalink
Something was missing from the parade yesterday. Wait a minute--it'll come to me. Oh, yeah! There were no signs calling for "Death to the Arabs" or equating Islam with Nazism.
There were, however, protestors. I saw one sign that mystified me. I'm still trying to parse its meaning. The sign read, "Identify yourself with the whole of mankind."
If it means what I think it means, that is one of the most hateful signs I've ever seen in my life. Perhaps I'm misreading it. Reader assistance on this would be greatly appreciated. permalink
Apparently, several of the worst terrorists will be deported to Italy.
Perhaps they can take over the Vatican while they're there, and make it a twofer.
Words fail me for a description of this history of the UN resolutions against Israel.
My hat is off to the man. Impeccable reproduction of the master's wit. permalink
Two days ago, I looked up at the date on my wall clock and said to myself, "May 3rd--why does that date mean something? Is it someone's birthday? What did I forget?"
Sometime yesterday afternoon, I realized--it's the fourth anniversary of my kicking the nicotine habit. My cousin, with whom I made a bet that I would quit smoking if he would lose weight, still has about 90% of his excess weight to go. (Hint, hint, if you're reading this.) But I have saved an estimated $6,760, less the first few months' payments for nicotine patches--let's call it an even $6,500. Not to mention the health benefits--I used to come down with colds on a frequent basis; now I get perhaps one or two a year. At the rate the price of cigarettes keeps going up, I figure my not smoking will, by the time I'm finished paying off my Jeep, have covered about 30% of the cost of my car. Wow. It's almost like I sent in cigarette coupons and earned a car with them!
And no, I am not old enough to remember cigarette coupons--I just read a lot, and remember what I read.
So happy anniversary to me, and if Phillip Morris ever invents a cancer-free cigarette, I'd be back on it in--sigh--a second. Alas, I'm like an alcoholic. I can't take so much as one drag without going back on the habit.
Saw the Spider-Man movie yesterday. Must go back and see it another half-dozen times to catch it all. It was wonderful, and I didn't even recognize Bruce Campbell as the MC at the wrestling match. Stay for all the credits if you want an extra giggle before you leave. There was, however, a terrifying few moments for us women. I leaned over and whispered to Kim, "Can't take any more ugly nekkid guy chests--my eyes! they burn! they burn!" Luckily, Tobey McGuire buffed up for all but the first scenes. But man--did they have to show us Willem Dafoe's chest? Eww. I'm going to have to break out the DVD of X-Men for some Hugh Jackman action to compensate. (Will whomever called us the Merry Marvel Blogging Society come to the front desk for his No-Prize?)
Is the Apocalypse coming? I got a referrer from a Rapture message board website. I have no idea what they're saying about me, because the referrer was cut off and I couldn't find the exact thread. I hope it was something nice. But add to that the fact that I just subscribed to the Weekly Standard today, and one has to wonder: What happened to that commiesympinkohippie who led the fight to shut down the NJ State College system for two days in, uh--wait. I'm not telling you when. Never mind.
Have I mentioned Josh Trevino's blog lately? I especially like the description of his meeting with the President (scroll down to May 3, he's still hasn't gotten a blogging tool or put in permalinks himself even after I sent him explicit instructions on how to achieve same, and no, I'm not trying to embarrass him in public, and does embarrass have one r or two? I should look it up.) Wow, thought I'd never get out of those parentheses. Oh, and check out the list of bloggers on my portal page and find a name that you think is neat and check him/her out. I need to add a few more, like, oh, Hawkgirl. Time to update the links page. permalink
Last week's blogs are archived. If you're looking for the Human Rights commission documents, or the Yasser Arafat Secret Phone Transcripts, click on the links. Iseema bin Laden's diary is also a good bet if you've never been here before.