Only fools debate whether patently illegal programs "work"—only fools or those who have been legally implicated in designing the programs in the first place.
Mark Fiore presents Little Suzie Newsykins, who explains what she learned this summer, including the formation of her Broccoli and Homework Super Committee.
How hard is it to get a cartoon published in The New Yorker?Really hard. (But it's not hard to enter their cartoon captioning contest -- see below.)
The gift for the man who has everything: Marvel Comics writer Michael Bendis is penning the new alternate-universe Ultimate Spider-Man title, wherein the
arachnoid powers are given to a half-black, half-Hispanic Miles Morales following the death of Peter Parker (Note: This is in a comic book situated in an alternate Marvel universe.) Glenn Beck, hearing the news, declared it a terrible state of affairs which he blamed on Michelle Obama and the forces trying to undermine tradition in America. (Note: This is in a comic book situated in an alternate Marvel universe.) When writer Bendis heard of Beck's outburst, he responded:
We pissed off Glenn Beck, and that was amazing. I don’t think Glenn Beck is an idiot because he’s a conservative. I literally think he’s just an idiot. Regardless of his belief system, he’s just a lunatic. So that was hilarious…I told my wife that she doesn’t have to get me anything for my birthday because nothing will make me happier than this made me.
Portland homeboy Jack Ohman observes that every Arab Spring is followed by an Arab Fall.
I don't know how youse done it, but I know youse done it! Here's "Bugsy and Mugsy," directed by Fritz Freleng in 1957, voiced by Mel Blanc, with musical direction split by Carl Stalling and Milt Franklyn. "Toin-it on the radio."
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The list of the songs he wrote, mostly but not always with Stoller, together takes up 14 pages on the Songwriters Hall of Fame web site --some were novelty songs, some were R&B standards, but an amazing number of them remain memorable.
Between the fifties and now, an awful, awful lot of people covered their songs -- you not only have to decide which of their songs is your favorite, but for songs like "Kansas City," you also have choose which classic cover of it is your favorite.
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Vonnegut wrote this dyspeptic piece in 2005, when the Bush/Cheney/Rumsfeld show was just starting its second act. Wish I could report to him that things have changed much (for the better), but . . .
(Earlier in the same book, he also expressed concern for those readers who couldn't tell when he was kidding, and promised to give them a heads-up, as needed.)
Persuasive guessing has been at the core of leadership for so long, for all of human experience so far, that it is wholly unsurprising that most of the leaders of this planet, in spite of all the information that is suddenly ours, want the guessing to go on. It is now their turn to guess and guess and be listened to. Some of the loudest, most proudly ignorant guessing in the world is going on in Washington today. Our leaders are sick of all the solid information that has been dumped on humanity by research and scholarship and investigative reporting. They think that the whole country is sick of it, and they could be right. It isn't the gold standard that they want to put us back on. They want something even more basic. They want to put us back on the snake-oil standard.
Loaded pistols are good for everyone except inmates in prisons or lunatic asylums.
That's correct.
Millions spent on public health are inflationary.
That's correct.
Billions spent on weapons will bring inflation down.
That's correct.
Dictatorships to the right are much closer to American ideals than dictatorships to the left.
That's correct.
The more hydrogen bomb warheads we have, all set to go off at a moment's notice, the safer humanity is and the better off the world will be that our grandchildren will inherit.
That's correct.
Industrial wastes, and especially those that are radioactive, hardly ever hurt anybody, so everybody should shut up about them.
That's correct.
Industries should be allowed to do whatever they want to do: Bribe, wreck the environment just a little, fix prices, screw dumb customers, put a stop to competition, and raid the Treasury when they go broke.
That's correct.
That's free enterprise.
And that's correct.
The poor have done something very wrong or they wouldn’t be poor, so their children should pay the consequences.
That's correct.
The United States of America cannot be expected to look after its own people.
The free market will do that.
That's correct.
The free market is an automatic system of justice.
class war·fare n. \klas 'wor-fer\ The socially unacceptable act of pointing out that class warfare is taking place. Original derivation unknown.
Remember: Having the rich and their mouthpieces working 'round the clock to line their pockets with money that used to belong to Americans hanging on in the bottom 50% income bracket isn't class warfare. It's only class warfare if you try to get people to notice that it's happening.
And with that, let's turn to today's selections, each one hand-crafted and jewel-encrusted by the same people who built Goldman Sachs CEO Lloyd Blankfein's third yacht, and drawn from the week's political cartoon pages at Slate, Time, Mario Piperni, About.com, and Daryl Cagle:
Get yer robot geek on! Somewhere in this montage is every robot you ever saw on TV or in the movies. (Including WALL-E.) Admit it: You saw this image and immediately thought "wallpaper!" -- but for your office, not your phone.
There are no above-average children in Portland homeboy Jack Ohman'slatest toon.
Congratulations. You are now qualified to run for president on the Tea Party ticket. Wrapping up our "class warfare" theme for today, here's the third of the 1950s Warner Bros Looney Toons about economics, underwritten by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation: (The other two in the set are here and here.) "Heir Conditioned" is about inheritance and investment -- and the importance of keeping money you didn't really earn yourself away from the moochers and parasites. (You'll see.) It was written by Warren Foster, voiced by Mel Blanc (and sounds like Daws Butler doing an uncredited job on "Bernie,") and directed by Friz Freleng in 1955. Notice the punch line at the final moment -- is it a call by Sylvester for higher estate taxes?
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Return of the p3 Bonus Toon: Yes, Jesse Springer's back from vacation, but with Oregon unemployment stuck at 9.5%, things seem too much like they were before he left. (Click to enlarge.)
This sitar-and-strings version of the Paul Desmond jazz classic in 5/4 that became the signature tune for Dave Brubeck is absolutely stunning. Looks like it would eventually have made it onto my usual-suspects list via Crooks and Liars, but their "late-night music" must have been up later than I was; it was at The Vagabond Scholar's site that I first found it. Props all around.
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The Iowa straw poll is not a test of political organizing or name recognition; it's a system designed to weed out candidates with poor cardiovascular health by making them eat all that deep-fried gunk.
Standard & Poor determines their credit-worthiness ratings using an elaborate algorithm based on what's in it for them.
Texas governor and GOP presidential candidate Rick Perry once appeared in public with his hair slightly mussed up.
Several prominent conservatives promoting the GOP/religious right's anti-gay agenda are actually straight.
And there is no evidence that American labor unions and MoveOn.org are responsible for the London rioting.
Believe it or not!
Today's selections were drawn from the week's political cartoon pages at Slate, Time, Mario Piperni, About.com, and Daryl Cagle -- then fried in lard, rolled in butter, dipped in corn bread batter, deep fried in corn oil, rolled in butter again, and covered with powdered sugar (with a side of ketchup, mustard, and, of course, butter):
Time to demand Kal-El's birth certificate! Three years ago, p3 fearlessly brought you the story of Captain America, political tool. But now (perhaps via leaks by Marvel oppo researchers?) the story can be told of that other red-and-blue hero who's got a track record of serving Big Government that would make Mitt Romney blush. Sure, it's one thing when Superman climbed in bed with the American government to end World War II in about five hours (even if there was that suspiciously un-American-sounding "war crimes" talk coming out of him near the end). After all, that was war, and everyone understands that we have to put aside small-government ideals in time of war -- just ask the GOP during George W. Bush's presidency.
But get a load of this lost record of the Man of Steel in 1952, encouraging Americans to
"get on the welfare wagon!" Yes, the Last Son of Krypton took time out to pitch the virtues of "public and private agencies" that "help to protect the welfare of the community." What's next: Superman in his Fortress of Solitude, penning essays on the virtues of a planned political economy?
And here he again, twelve years later, brazenly fronting for the late JFK's Presidential Council on Physical Fitness. (I remember this issue, by the way. The MacGuffin was Superman rescuing a group of American and European exchange students from an avalanche in the Alps. The European students came through it all just fine, but the wussy, out-of-shape American students were bushed. Kennedy then brings in the Man of Steel to front his physical fitness program -- like George H.W. Bush brought in Conan the Barbarian, decades later. I remember one scene from the story in which Superman challenges a group of young runners to touch his cape, as he stays just out of their reach on the track via his super-speed. These were pre-Jim Croce days, of course.)
It's a right-winger's dream: First Superman renounces his American citizenship; and next he's caught pimping for the welfare state! Now, if only there were evidence he wasn't born in this country . . . !
Superman has the Justice League: But what superhero has the "Super Congress?" This week, Tom Tomorrow brings us another moderately exciting adventure MiddleMan.
It would be a pleasure to expound this economic phenomenon. As I mentioned last week, Looney Tunes produced three animation shorts underwritten by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation in the 1950s, designed to teach the fundamentals of economics and mass production (with a dose of worker suspicion and American exceptionalism tossed into the mix). Of course, not everyone seems to have been paying attention, but a lot of kids did, for better or worse. From 1954, directed by Fritz Freleng, here's "By Word of Mouse."
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Back in late 1999, NPR ran a daily feature counting down the "top 100 songs" of the 20th century. (Wait -- just the 20th century? That means that "The Man on the Flying Trapeze" -- one of the most popular "piano bench" songs of the 19th century -- is disqualified. Damn. Anyway . . . )
Coleman Hawkins' incredible 1939 performance of "Body and Soul" took the #1 spot -- and also must have helped generations of kids decide to take up tenor sax.
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I'm not a big fan of anonymous donors in every imaginable instance, but this time my hat's off to the person or persons unknown who stepped up to help the students at one Missouri high school survive the process of their own education:
Most of us regard Kurt Vonnegut's classic novel Slaughterhouse-Five as a masterpiece of thought-provoking science fiction, but the School Board of Republic High School in Missouri felt differently. They decided to ban the novel.
And in response, the Vonnegut Memorial Library offered to provide a free copy to any of the 150 students who were originally supposed to read it.
The cost of the copies was covered by an anonymous donor, who has our grateful thanks.
The trigger that led to the banning?
Vonnegut's novel filters his World War II trauma through the lens of time travel and alien abduction, and in the process creates some fascinating insights into trauma, history and brutality. But the high school banned the book for creating "false conceptions of American history and government or that teach principles contrary to Biblical morality and truth."
The School Board took the Vonnegut classic under consideration after receiving a complaint from Missouri University professor Wesley Scroggins, about that book and two others.
One wonders if Professor Scroggins (who appears to be on the business administration faculty at Missouri State University, not the University of Missouri or the nonexistent Missouri University) would take kindly to having his own textbook selections second-guessed by community members concerned that modern management principles don't always square with Biblical morality either, but let that pass.
The Vonnegut Library's statement included this message to the Federal HS students:
We think it's important for everyone to have their First Amendment rights. We're not telling you to like the book… we just want you to read it and decide for yourself.
Any student who wants to read the forbidden book -- and, ironically, the school board probably couldn't think of a better motivator than telling the kids it's bad for them -- simply has to email the library name, address, and grade level (although their personal information won't be shared).
At that time, they were teaching that there was absolutely no difference between anybody. They may be teaching that still.
I hadn't seen him in the paneled reception room, so he must have been waiting in a private office. He hadn't enjoyed it. He came in quickly, shut the door quickly, and yanked a thin octagonal platinum watch from his vest and glared at it. He was a tall white-blond type in pin-striped flannel of youthful cut. There was a small pink rosebud in his lapel. He had a keen frozen face, a little pouchy under the eyes, a little thick in the lips. He carried an ebony cane with a silver knob, wore spats and looked a smart sixty, but I gave him close to ten years more. I didn't like him.
"Twenty-six minutes, Miss Halsey," he said icily. "My time happens to be valuable. By regarding it as valuable I have managed to make a great deal of money."
"Well, we're trying to save you some of the money," Anna drawled. She didn't like him either. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Jeeter, but you wanted to see the operative I selected and I had to send for him."
"He doesn't look like the type to me," Mr. Jeeter said, giving me a nasty glance. "I think more of a gentleman -- "
"You're not the Jeeter of Tobacco Road, are you?" I asked him.
He came slowly towards me and half lifted the stick. His icy eyes tore at me like claws. "So you insult me," he said. "Me -- a man in my position."
"Now wait a minute," Anna began.
"Wait a minute nothing," I said. "This party said I was not a gentleman. Maybe that's okay for a man in his position, whatever it is -- but a man in my position doesn't take a dirty crack from anybody. He can't afford to. Unless, of course, it wasn't intended."
Mr. Jeeter stiffened and glared at me. He took his watch out again and looked at it. "Twenty-eight minutes," he said. "I apologize, young man. I had no desire to be rude."
"That's swell," I said. "I knew you weren't the Jeeter in Tobacco Road all along."
That almost started him again, but he let it go. He wasn't sure how I meant it.
We slipstreamed behind Paul Krugman, who was wondering whether courting the know-nothing vote in 2008 was worth the bother.
In the media-saturated environment of the contemporary presidential campaign, the "undecideds" have opted to treat the glut of information like a pie fight, in which the object is to make it to November while getting as little custard on themselves as possible.
I suppose it had to happen eventually; First they were worried about the Teletubbies. Then they were worried about Bert and Ernie (although they may have been right that time; even a blind squirrel finds an acorn every now and then). Now they're worried that Dora the Explorer and Sponge Bob Squarepants are filling our children's innocent minds up subversive stuff like energy efficiency.
Tom Tomorrow brings you another case -- or actually the same old case -- from the files of Thomas Friedman, Private Eye. When the Mustache of Understanding is on the case, you know it won't be long until it's cracked.
At Red Meat Ted Johnson ponders the idea of forgiveness.
The Comic Curmudgeon examines ugly sexual games in Luann and Hi & Lois. (Last week, it was Lois and a guy covered in body art; this week it's a guy with a 70's porn 'stache and hints about of phone sex. Still waters run deep, apparently.)
If you believe in "invisible hands," it's a short step to believing in elves: In 1956, Fritz Freleng directed "Yankee Dood It," the third of three Looney Toons that were underwritten by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, as a way to teach economics -- in this case introducing mass production to the old story of the shoemaker and the elves. (The title is an otherwise-irrelevant reference to a Red Skelton tag line.)
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No p3 Bonus Toon this week: Jesse Springer is still on vacation. But you can browse the archives. Why do doctors and cartoonists all go on vacation in August?
Belafonte was one of scores of musicians who covered this American folk classic. But there is one first associated with this 1962 recording: It's Bob Dylan's first studio recording performance -- he's playing the harmonica.
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Hat-tip to Keith, host of "Strictly the Sixties" on WCCR LP-FM, who played this song last week and got me thinking about it.
"You might get into trouble, of course," Anna said. "I never heard of Marty bumping anybody off in the public square at high noon, but he don't play with cigar coupons."
"Trouble is my business," I said. "Twenty-five a day and guarantee of two-fifty if I pull the job."
The door opened with a jerk and Finlayson and Sebold came in. Sebold looked as spruce and nasty as ever, but Finlayson looked older, more worn, mousier. He held a sheaf of papers in his hand. He sat down across the desk from me and gave me a hard bleak stare.
"Guys like you get in a lot of trouble," Finlayson said sourly. Sebold sat down against the wall and tilted his hat over his eyes and yawned and looked at his new stainless-steel wrist watch.
"Trouble is my business," I said. "How else will I make a nickel?"
A hand shaking my shoulder woke me. The car had stopped. I looked out at the front of my apartment house.
"Home," Marty Estel said. "And remember. Lay off her."
"Why the ride home? Just to tell me that?"
"She asked me to look out for you. That's why you're loose. She likes you. I like her. See? You don't want any more trouble."
"Trouble -- " I started to say, and stopped. I was tired of that gag for the night.
The [American Family Association's] main spokesperson, Bryan Fischer, seems to spend more time thinking about gay sex than any four or five gay people I know put together.
The whole Waldman article -- "The Challenge of Reporting on the Loony" -- is worth a read.
"A good cause is often injured more by ill-timed efforts of its friends than by the arguments of its enemies. Persuasion, perseverance, and patience are the best advocates on questions depending on the will of others." -Thomas Jefferson (1826)
Slate's Dahlia Lithwick on Dick Cheney's continued insistence that torture is safe and effective:
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