Diary of the Mad Pigeon

Short Notes on Bhutto

BBC:  Pakistani President Pervez Musharraf has ordered firm action to crack down on unrest following the death of opposition leader Benazir Bhutto.  Mr Musharraf said looters "must be dealt with firmly and all measures be taken to ensure [the] safety and security of the people".  Some 38 people have died in violence that has broken out since Ms Bhutto was assassinated on Thursday.

Meanwhile, her party has rejected the government's explanation of her death.  A government spokesman said her head was slammed against her vehicle by the force of a bomb - but colleagues said she died from bullet wounds.  CONTINUED

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Man, what a week to pick for a holiday!

In fact, I was further caught off guard when I learned about the assassination hours after the fact.  The Hummingbird and I went to dinner with my brother Winter and his new wife C-Chan, and he asked me over a beer, "so, what do you think of Bhutto?"

I replied, "eh... well-educated, but with the sickly sweet smell of corruption?"

Winter made a surprised face, "no... I mean about her assassination?"

I returned, "her assassination?  Meh, I think Musharraf's going to get waxed first."

"But she was assassinated today!  Didn't you know?"

I think MOGS and Antitool will agree that there's nothing worse that can happen to an analyst than not knowing about a major geopolitical event.  I grabbed my arm rests and extolled, "what!  Today?  And I didn't know about it!?  I... I am ashamed" (Yes, said just like Jacques the Shrimp in Finding Nemo).

But in truth, I agree with most of the analysis I've seen so far across the wires.  I'm still surprised it was her before Musharraf, but I'm not surprised she was killed.

Hopefully she understood the risks when she stuck her head outside her bulletproof car.

On one hand it's a damn tragedy, especially when you roll in the entire up and down tapestry of the Bhutto family.  But on the other... wasn't she removed from office twice for corruption?  Of course, I'd take her on office over Nawaz Sharif any day, but in martyrdom I think people are forgetting her "other" legacy.

Regardless, we still have a nuclear power in flames this evening, which I suppose overshadows Mrs. Bhutto's late strengths and shortcomings. 

I'll be curious to see how her son and husband step up over the next few days.

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Trackposted to Outside the Beltway, Blog @ MoreWhat.com, Is It Just Me?, Rosemary's Thoughts, Right Truth, Adam's Blog, The World According to Carl, Shadowscope, Stuck On Stupid, The Pink Flamingo, Cao's Blog, and Big Dog's Weblog, thanks to Linkfest Haven Deluxe.

Non, dire n'est pas comme ca!

What's next, a public drinking ban in Germany? Ceci le sacrilege.

Reveille

I'll be like the Navy Chief in this video one day...

Morlock vs. Eloi

Disclaimer: I wrote this on the back of a crew log (AF Form 524) while sitting on alert, so it might not be all that great.

I'm a Morlock, but you're the Eloi.

If you've ever read The Time Machine by HG Wells, you'll know what I'm talking about. If not, take some time to figure it out. Ok, so I work underground, have a very utilitarian worldview, and provide a rather intangible product--nuclear deterrence, aka paralyzing fear. This is for a bunch of people who live aboveground, in obscene comfort (compared to any other period of human history), frequently with no knowledge or understanding of the massive system they feed through their meaning-deprived existence. While the masses live dumb and happy on the surface, I try to stay lean and hungry underground, preferring books to a mindless, Internet/TV-based excuse for culture. One simply gets more by blasting the printed word down the optic nerve. The book always beats the movie, or a music video, but fewer and fewer people bother to read. When they do, it's usually crap like The DaVinci Code, or something served up to them on a steaming pile of Oprah's Book Club.

While electronic schlock abounds, calibrated to the lowest common denominator, it's a means of control. The schlock is, at the very least, harmless and keeps the narod in line. Due to the decentralized nature of the Internet, "misunderstood nuts" have an outlet while vapid college students surf Facebook. It's all things to all people, a perfect safety valve, neatly circumventing the possibly inflammatory ends to which new media can always be used. I mean, the printing press ushered in 200 years of war in Europe. Radio and cinema allowed totalitarian regimes in the mid-20th century to gain influence. With the Internet, there's no uproar. Is it simply because, in contrast to books and newspapers, blogs and YouTube are free to use? That's not saying the "content" necessarily has value--Eisenstein and Voltaire beat the crap out of, say, Daily Kos. (who, if it wasn't for the blogosphere, would have remained the peon he obviously is, deep down.) There's no revolution, no violence, only a blind, agreeable muddling down of complex topics. Fukuyama was partially right--history may be ending, and manhood may be a thing of the past.

However, this new media is being used to fulfill the same basic human impulse--greed. The people, the great unwashed, buy from Amazon, refinance their frankly exploitative mortgages on DiTech, and load their ersatz webpages on MySpace or Facebook with colorful, security-compromising e-trinkets (and sometimes advertising). All of this benefits the old villains, the capitalists, who, in the one intellectual victory of Marxism in the US, cannot be perceived to make money without exploiting the "less fortunate" (read: dumber). These evil, selfish people tend to--guess what?--read books. Like drug kingpins, they tend to avoid using their own product.

The people-cum-Eloi are sheep. You can "do your own thing", but I like staying on top.

Works Consulted (off the top of my head):
The Time Machine (Wells)
Empire (Orson Scott Card)
American Theocracy (Kevin Phillips)
In the Beginning, There Was the Command Line (Neal Stephenson)

The Evolution of Math

1. Teaching Math In 1950s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit ?

2. Teaching Math In 1960s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100 His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

3. Teaching Math In 1970s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

4. Teaching Math In 1980s
A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

5. Teaching Math In 1990s
A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers, and if you feel like crying, it's ok.  )

6. Teaching Math In 2007
Un hachero vende una carretada de maderapara $100. El costo de la producciones es $80. Cuanto dinero ha hecho?

Evil Capitalist Stooges

The perpetual paranoia of the Russians never ceases to amaze me. Looks like the "future elite of the American armed forces" are actually nefarious capitalist stooges. Heh. I wish. And apparently, our organs of state security have shifted their emphasis from Yale to...Baylor.

A quote: "On Sunday in Voronezh Oblast a missile division of «Topol-Ms» went on combat alert. Apparently, in the nearest time, counterintelligence will get more work in this region as well. For the duration of six years and then some, Voronezh is regularly visited on exchanges by students from military colleges of the USA. This year – no exception. 15 American students from the Military academy in West-Point, the Military academy of the Air Force of the USA and Baylor university during the course of a semester «guest» in the local university. VGU [Voronezh State University], by the way, cooperates with West-Point on a permanent basis."

And now, some mood music:

A Different Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,
Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
A nd I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts...
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,

"I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,

I'm proud to stand he re like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at ' Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."

My dad stood his watch in the jungles of ' Nam ',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..

Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."
"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

Jingle Bombs

SILENCE!....Night

:)

Culled from the Comics Pages

So much for taking a holiday--I just couldn't pass up sharing a gem I read this morning.

All I can say is, the kid's got a point!

Frazz, by Jef Mallett

Merry Christmas/Winter Solstice!

ALCON--

Enjoy your Christmas! I've embedded a rather good rendition of some Christmas standards. I hope you have a meaningful holiday, and hopefully one devoid of peasant-centric, "means-of-control" religion. (see Osteen, Joel and Haggard, Meth/Pole-Smoker)

Arcane architectural commentary here. It's interesting that someone named Albert Speer can always be counted on to work for repressive dictatorships. Sorry, the guy's work is cool, but I couldn't pass that one up.