Go, Jim, Go!

Senator Jim Webb of Virginia was elected after the George Allen "macaca" moment. Without the macaca implosion, Webb wouldn't have won. On the campaign trail, he's not great at connecting with people. He's a bit harsh and cold. He doesn't want to kiss babies.

When he was on the longer of the short lists for Vice President, some groups on the left weren't crazy about the idea, particularly because back in 1979 he wrote an article called "Women Can't Fight," in which he lays out an argument against women in the military. Now, he says, he supports women in the military.

But Jim Webb has what so many Democrats don't: balls. He was a loud and early critic of the Iraq War. He's an outspoken economic populist. He's not afraid to state clearly and succinctly why he supports particular issues and stands against others.

Now he's taking on prison reform.

Prisons in this country are a disaster. We over-incarcerate; we under-rehabilitate its occupants; we over-sentence; we mis-sentence; etc., etc.

Then why is it that so few politicians take on prison reform? Well, first of all, in most states the incarcerated can't vote. In many states, those formerly incarcerated can never vote again. Publicly, if you're anything but "lock 'em up and screw 'em" about people who commit crime, you're perceived as "soft on crime." And yet, no one seems to see that the crime rate isn't going down any faster with mandatory minimum sentences, the death penalty, brutal prisons, and more.

So in walks Jim Webb, balls first, to take on the issue. And Jim's from Virginia, which is second only to Texas in putting people to death. Hell, Virginia even abolished parole in 1995. This is not a state famous for a soft prison/judicial system.

We'll find out in four years when he's up for reelection whether his prison reform legislation comes back to bite him in the ass politically. But I'm sure glad that he doesn't care about that at the moment.

As the very wise "they" say, you can tell a lot about a society from how it treats its prisoners.

[Thanks to Talking Points Memo for the heads-up.]

Je Suis American!

On our drive back to the gay commune sometimes referred to as New York City, the missus and I stopped off at a Walmart just outside of Wheeling, West Virginia. I'm fairly certain we were still in Ohio, but in the West Virginia part of Ohio.

But not only did we stop off at (and go inside of) Walmart to purchase inexpensive goods, but just to prove our patriotism, we also had McDonald's for lunch.

In case the implication is not clear, the McDonald's was located inside the Walmart. I ate my sodium-enriched sustenance while sitting in my American-made vehicle, you communist-leaning B&E readers, so it doesn't get any more Freedom & Liberty than that.

Not to worry: once back in Pennsylvania (the New Jersey part of Pennsylvania, not the West Virginia part) we were sure to gay ourselves up with a liberal stop-off at the elite turnpike Starbucks. The missus even had soy milk in her pantywaist latte.

It was a good holiday.

That Sounds Like a Fine Idea

Over the past year or so, I've been reading about the Works Progress Administration, you know, the WPA, which was a government-sponsored program during the Great Depression that put millions of people to work. Not knowing too much about it, I began with some general overviews of the entire program and then I began to dive into specific information about the Federal Writers Project which, as you might guess, employed writers (including such greats as Saul Bellow, Zora Neal Hurston, and Richard Wright).

The Federal Writers Project published guides to every state and a guide to New York City (which was so much larger than other cities, it was treated as its own "state" bureaucratically). I came upon the New York City guide quite a few years ago at the Strand. It's fantastic. Not only is it a time capsule of Depression-era New York City, but it's also exceptionally well-written and thorough.

The WPA's Kansas Guidebook is no less impressive. There's topographical information about my home state I never knew (why, for example, corn is grown in the east and wheat is grown in the west), evolutionary information about why it looks so flat but is actually a ramp heading upwards toward the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, and more. Like the New York City guide, it too is well-written and thorough.

There was much more to the Federal Writers Project than just the guidebooks (including oral history interviews with former slaves), but even at the time, the Project was full of controversy because so many writers, particularly the poor ones, had left-wing tendencies and frequent membership to the Communist Party.

The Writers Project was part of a quartet of arts-related projects that also included Federal Projects for music, theater, and fine art. You know, screw the dancers (actually, they were folded into the Federal Theater Project).

The Arts Projects employed a lot of artists and got them off public assistance. That seems pretty damned worthy to me.

So during this time of governmental transition, while Please-Be-President-Sooner Barack Obama puts together a stimulus package for green jobs, infrastructure improvements, and more, it's also an opportune time to present the idea of an Arts Stimulus Plan. Out of work, creative, white collar types need some economic stimulus too.

Fortunately, someone's on it. A good friend of mine is very active in that arena where the arts and politics collide, helping to advocate for health care for artists and more, and she's part of the group responsible for the petition for an Arts Stimulus Package.

They've got Michigan Representative John Conyers' ear, and he plans on putting this on President Obama's desk when he takes office. So follow that link above and sign the petition.

Let's get some out-of-work artists (is there any other kind? HAHAHAHA!) employed doing some art.

I'm Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

We're having our Christmas today, on Christmas Eve, since my sister and bro-in-law need to head back home early tomorrow.

So after a lazy day of lounging and reading, I finally took my shower and got dressed for Christmas...

- Green and red striped boxer briefs (bought in Sweden)
- Green and red striped socks (gift from the mother-in-law)
- Red corduroys (a gift from the missus last year)
- Green waffle knit shirt (bought myself at LL Bean in Freeport, Maine)
- Green v-neck sweater (from H&M, I think, bought for work when I got a job again after several years of working from home)

Keep in mind that we're talking about different shades of red and green throughout. It's a total disaster, and I'm feeling pretty good about it.

I'm also ready to eat some turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, veggies, gravy, and pumpkin pie. But really, all that's just appetizer for...

PRESENTS! Happy holidays, B&E readers!

My Winter Vacation - Kansas!

Yes, B&E readers, it's vacation time. My mother has a wireless internet connection she's got absolutely no use for, but it's always there when the kids come for a visit.

It was a mere 22-hour drive from Queens to Topeka, but it was easy because we did it over 11 days, figuring that two hours a day would make the whole thing manageable. OK, so we did it in two days. I'm consistently impressed with our totally unimpressive car. One doesn't expect a free car more than a decade old with more than 140,000 miles on it to run quite so flawlessly, especially since we left both mornings of the drive in ice and drove through windchills well below zero degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, it looks like a total piece of shit, but our '96 Saturn was built to last. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for the company. Way to go, General Motors.

My mom and step-family (does one really have a "step-family" when one is in his mid-thirties?) were sitting at the dining room table when we arrived, and a laptop was open to baldandeffective.com, a website some of you may have heard of. They told my mom to smell me because I'm a tourist here in Kansas. Fair enough. I stank. I'd just spent 22 hours in a car. Stand by your comments, Senator!

Yesterday, the step-bro asked if any Topeka-related posts were percolating. (People from Topeka who no longer live in Topeka enjoy mocking the old hometown.) Nothing really was yet, but I was still recovering from the drive. My sister let us play a little with her iPhone. She's got a restaurant finding application that lets you put in your location (and several other information fields). So when we put in Topeka and gave the iPhone a shake, Subway came up. "There's your post!" exclaimed the step-bro. Indeed.

My sister was also kind enough to bring her copy of Newsweek from right after the election, with the in-depth How He Did It coverage. I couldn't find a copy of it on newsstands when it came out. It's kind of great reliving the whole thing now, more than a month after the election, with hindsight letting me feel all relaxed. Political campaigns are completely fascinating.

It's good to be here. Very relaxing. So can we open presents now?

A Cuff? He's Only Got a Cuff?!

So this whole Bernard Madoff (pronounced "made off" much to the pleasure of the 24-hour news networks, which have taken us through enough "Madoff with billions" jokes to last a lifetime) story is old, and my comments are late. What are you gonna do? I'm busy.

It's a Ponzi Scheme! I had to look up "Ponzi Scheme" on Wikipedia because the elite media I read assumes I already know how it works. In case you, my readers, are as uninformed and ignorant as I am, a Ponzi Scheme has no relation to the Fonzie Scheme, in which Arthur Fonzarelli gets as many girlfriends as he can by banging his fist on the jukebox to get it to play a top hit of the 50s.

In a Ponzi Scheme, high returns are paid to investors with money from new investors coming in. That is, the money isn't actually earning any sort of yield. And like any pyramid scheme, Ponzi Schemes are destined to fail. So that's a very simple explanation and about all my bald head can absorb.

So Bernard Madoff with billions! AAAAH HA HA HAHAHAHAHA!

One of Madoff's (many) exceptionally wealthy investors was the Wilpon family. Fred and Jeff Wilpon are the father and son ownership of the New York Metropolitan Baseball Club.

As of this moment, the Wilpons are insisting that their personal losses won't affect their investment in the team. And indeed, Omar Minaya has already signed Francisco Rodriguez and JJ Putz (heh... Putz...) in recent weeks. But those signings occurred before Bernard Madoff with their millions! AAAAAAH HA HA HAHAHAHAHA!

I don't see how this won't affect the Mets. Minaya isn't done yet with his off-season moves, and it's the Wilpons who determine what he can spend.

Let's throw the fucking book at this Bernard Madoff. He's Madoff with the hopes of New York Mets fans. See? I'm not laughing. Meanwhile, he's sitting in the comfort of his goddamned penthouse apartment under house arrest with a cuff around his ankle, the Dickheaded Shitbird.

Alright... A modest proposal... The Mets new stadium is Citi Field. Since Citigroup got a massive bailout and much of the stadium has been built from government bonds, as far as I'm concerned, the new Shea is already owned by the people. The Wilpons have taken a bath, and although they say they're not looking to sell the team (which could well be their most solid investment), I think it's time we consider some new owners.

Let's look to the Green Bay Packers, a nonprofit, community-owned professional football team, the only such team in professional sports. The Mets are almost there unofficially anyway. Let's make it official. It's time for our local community to own the New York Mets.

Yeah, like that'll ever happen. Dammit.

Hate It, Hate It, Don't Care... LOVE IT!

So the liberal masses are angry at Barack Obama because he chose a gay-bashing bigot to give the invocation at his inauguration. Meanwhile, the bigoted masses are angry at Rick Warren because he's agreed to do the invocation at the inauguration of an infanticidal queer lover. Everyone in the middle couldn't care less.

Who, then, is happy about this?

Oh! Elizabeth Hasselback!

Grr... Health Care Industry... Grr...

I'm a fortunate American with health insurance. One of the benefits of my job is that my employer kicks in to the kitty for a health plan for the lot of us. I'm very pleased with my doctor and have no complaints about my care.

It's also expensive. Even with the employer contribution, the missus and I are paying a bunch of money per month for our coverage. We had our annual meeting with the insurance rep, who consistently delivers bad news about costs. This coming year prices are going up more than 11%. So now the missus and I will be paying even more than a bunch of money per month.

The insurance rep told us that this increase is comparable to the 10-12% annual increases in costs for health care.

Imagine that: Health insurance costs are rising faster than the rate of inflation. I wonder if the for-profit model has anything to do with that.

So part of this Obama Mandate for Change includes reforming the health care industry. To continue the fun of his grassroots support system, the Obama campaign/administration is hosting Health Care House Parties! Woo-HOO! Par-TAY! I'm totally fucked up on health care!

Naturally, the health care industry wants in on these House Parties, so they're crashing, sending employees and satisfied customers to get in on the action.

If you love things the way they are and want to continue to pay more and more for less and less coverage so that shareholders get a bigger return on investment, join the health care industry's movement to crash the house parties!

I guess if these jokers want to argue for the status quo at Health Care House Parties, more power to them.

But this system is fucking bullshit. Mixing profit with matters of life and death... uh... not right.

Last year, when the missus and I had to take her father for an overnight visit to the hospital in Scotland, he had to fill out two forms that asked for name and address. That's it. Yes, he shared his room, but the care was outstanding and the facilities terrific. I tell you what: socialized medicine looked pretty goddamn good to me. No one profits off the man's unfortunate health.

Can we finally get a single-payer health care system in this country? Especially now that insurance plays such a large role in the demise of, say, the auto companies?

The Nostalgia Train

Chalk this one up under "Another Reason New York City Totally Rules"...

The missus and I attended brunch yesterday at a trendy location on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, a borough some people think is great.

As we were transferring from our local #7 train to the downtown B/D/F/V options, the Nostalgia Train pulled into the station. I remembered hearing about this special MTA event on the ever-reliable NY1. It's so rare that you hear good things about the MTA on the news that, when you do, the reports really stand out.

Classic subway cars, B&E readers! We rode in a 1930s number with uncomfortable seats (although the lumbar support was surprisingly solid) that was in service until the 1970s. I wasn't in NYC in the 1970s, so it was all new to me.

The MTA has the Nostalgia Train all decked out in classic subway ads, and even the locals look like tourists riding this thing: cameras (or cellphone cameras) out, smiles across the board, and interactions with strangers.

The MTA conductors seemed to be having a good time, and at least one obvious train enthusiast (no MTA identification and wearing a classic engineer's cap) was making platform announcements to let everyone know that it was running along the V line from Queens Plaza to 2nd Avenue. (Unfortunately I didn't have my camera with me.)

So if you're in New York City on either of the next two Sundays, I recommend finding your way to the V train and keeping an eye out for the Nostalgia Train.

It'll be one of the few times that the MTA makes you happy.

This morning, of course, the MTA followed up the Nostalgia Train experience with a really shitty commute. Well done.

That's a Lot of Stains

Earlier this week, a retired Cardinal (and I don't mean the St. Louis Cardinals) declared that Madonna (the pop idol, not the Mother of God) is lustful and offensive to God.

That this retired Cardinal said these things during a service memorializing the second anniversary of the death of former Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet proves once again that violence is OK and sex is not.

Murdering about 3,000 people (or at least making them disappear) is God's Holy Work on Earth, apparently, but performing in conic bustiers and simulating masturbation on stage and you are a stain on humanity.

I mean, really, Cardinal, Madonna gets around, but I'm not sure she's stained all of humanity. A lot of bedsheets, sure, but all of humanity?

What? What'd I say?

Stand By Your Comments, Senator!

As I mentioned in a previous post, Senator Harry Reid agrees with me when I say that tourists stink.

Well, now he's backing away from his comments.

No! NO! Senator Reid, tourists stink. I've experienced it myself. It's the truth and sometimes the truth hurts. We're in a recession; it doesn't make it any less true just because you politicians won't say so. The same holds true for the funkiness of tourists. (And obviously I mean funk in the stinky sense of the word, not in the Sly Stone sense.)

Stand your ground, Senator. It's Democratic polticians' cowardice, wishy-washiness, fecklessness, and flip-floppery that makes the public hate the Democratic Party.

Tourists stink. And it's about time we have a leader who's not afraid to take a bold stance on the issue. That could be you, Mr. Majority Leader. Don't let the people down. Especially the stinky ones.

We Got the Putz! We Got the Putz!

I was a bit afraid that since the Mets picked up Francisco Rodriguez, they wouldn't have the cash to get my top choice of bullpen help, J.J. Putz.

Alas, Omar Minaya put together a trade and not only did he give away a prominent Mets scapegoat (Aaron Heilman), but he picked up the Putz. Omar also had to give away fan favorite Endy Chavez, but still, we got the Putz!

So is the Putz any good? Well, he had a pretty good year in 2007, and had some injuries in 2008.

But who cares? We've got a real Putz in the bullpen! What more do we need?

Dickhead of This Moment - Rod Blagojevich

Right, so it's not exactly a weekly feature anymore, but I think Governor Rod Blagojevich has proven himself to be quite a Dickhead, has he hot?

Yesterday, the Illinois governor was arrested because he was looking to sell President-Elect's Senate seat for some cold, hard cash (like the literally cold, hard cash found in William Jefferson's freezer) or some serious political favors. No high bidder? No problem. He'd just appoint himself to the seat.

This is pretty shocking stuff, not so much that he was doing it (I tend to assume that most politicians, particularly the powerful ones, are corrupt to some degree), but that it was so brazen. The wiretaps are full of expletives ("Fuck the Chicago Cubs!" says his wife), full of bribery (blackmailing the Tribune Company), and full of more expletives ("Fuck them!" says Rod, when he learns the Obama people won't give him anything but appreciation for naming their choice to the Senate seat).

Just the day before his arrest, he actually said, "Go ahead! Tape my conversations!" Well, they were. Oops.

What will continue to be interesting is whether or not the ripples of this Dickhead's actions will be felt in the incoming Obama Administration. After all, the two men served in the Illinois Statehouse together, are a part of the so-called Chicago Political Machine, and know many of the same people. Based on what I've read so far, it appears that Obama himself is not terribly close to Blago, but what about some of those Chicagoans around him?

They will either look like corrupt Dickheads themselves or, if they had anything at all to do with the assisting investigation against Blago, they'll look as clean as my scalp after a shower.

Blago, you remarkable Dickhead. How long before you're a shitbird?

Now We Just Need Him to Get a New Nickname

Dude! The Mets have an agreement with Francisco Rodriguez! He's like a top-of-the-line closer! We're talking about a real pitcher in the bullpen! As opposed to this past year, when the Mets had nothing in their bullpen at all!

I really hate his nickname. K-Rod. Fucking stupid. K-Rod. Get it?? You see, there's this ballplayer named Alex Rodriguez, who has the nickname A-Rod. But Francisco Rodriguez is a pitcher, and in the score book, a strikeout is recorded as a "K," and since he strikes out a lot of people, he's K-Rod. That's right: his nickname is actually referential to a guy who plays for the team across town. Plus, it's fucking stupid.

But I feel pretty good about getting that arm in a Mets uniform.

Best of all, even after Frankie's salary, there's still $8 million a year left from the Citigroup sponsorship, now being guaranteed by the United States Government!

Between that and all the tax breaks and government bonds and public financing the new stadiums is getting, we've got ourselves a genuine socialist ballclub here in Queens.

Power to the people! Power to the Mets! Power to the people! Power to the Mets!

I Remember This: It's Called Cold

Oh, yes, B&E readers, New York City has had its first really cold day, and I don't mind telling you that I like it.

Well, I like it other than the fact that it was also 54-degrees at my job today. (In case I need to clarify, we do actually work inside.) It's sort of sad looking across at all my office mates wearing coats, scarves, and knit caps (I had my cap on too).

But that brisk walk across the Brooklyn Bridge is invigorating with a windchill in the teens. Because I layered up and because I am who I am, I did manage to get a minor sweat going, so I took off my knit cap during my walk and let that icy wind race across my scalp. It's tingly and nice.

I recommend that everyone shave their heads and enjoy that feeling for just a moment. Then you can put your hair back on.

While I was enjoying the scalpy tingle, a majorly bundled-up figure on a bicycle cried out, "Bald and no hat!" with the unmistakable tone of being impressed. That's right, Bundled-Up Figure. Bald and no hat.

No hat, that is, until I got inside.

Christmas Is to Blame

They look like us, they speak like us, but Canada’s like a foreign country up there.

I can’t say I understand exactly what he did, but Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper of the Conservative Party has managed to piss off the rest of the opposition political parties so much that three of them have gotten together to form a coalition for, like, the first time ever (including those wacky secessionists), and they were on their way to ousting Harper from office.

So Harper did what all good leaders do, and made it impossible for them to call their no-confidence vote. He got the Governor General, an unelected official — appointed in fact by Queen Elizabeth (they’re so cute up north, honoring the Queen and all) — to give Harper permission to shut down the Parliament until January.

(Apparently, the Canadian left feels about Harper the way the American left feels about Bush, Cheney, or Rove, all rolled into one diabolical figure.)

But I think I know why all this is going on. All told, especially in comparison to just how much landmass they’ve got up there, the population of Canada is quite small.

It’s also Christmas tree season and, as we all know, the Canadians head south to our cities — especially New York and Boston — to make their annual incomes by selling tiny, dead pine trees at an enormous profit to Christians (and some curious secular Jews who celebrate Christmas — a phenomenon I’d never seen before living in New York) preparing for the holiday season.

With the population gone and no one left to hold the government employees accountable, all hell is breaking loose.

We need to hurry up and get through these holidays, so that the Canadians can go back to their country before it’s another country altogether.

A Problem, a Solution, and a Problem

The Body Shop, a legendary (thanks to Motley Crue!) strip club in West Hollywood, had a major fire, putting it out of commission.

I have an irrational fear of fire the way that, say, some do of spiders or snakes. So I can only imagine that the strippers are hesitating to go back to work.

Well, thanks to the ever-resourceful British, they may not have to. That's right, B&E readers! Pole-dancing robots!

Of course, in today's economy, we've got something to fear more than fire itself: unemployment. And the last thing we need is for the entire service industry to be replaced by robots.

Strippers are part of the service industry, right?

It's TV Night!

I caught a piece of the classic stop-motion animation of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer this evening, and I don't think it's just nostalgia when I say that it's fucking awesome. It's so dated at this point that it's totally cool. The characters speak way too slowly. The songs are short and catchy. Yukon Cornelius might be the best character name ever. An elf that wants to be a dentist? Come on, people! This is great stuff!

Then the missus and I got sucked into this show in which rich people slum it in some poor community and then give broke do-gooders a boatload of cash. They're giving out life-changing money here, so of course it's sort of moving and powerful.

But part of this staging of reality shows is a bit over-the-top. Why do the rich people have to give out their money while wearing clothing worth thousands of dollars? Why don't they wear the shitty, casual clothing they met these people in? There's something a bit condescending about the exercise.

Don't get me wrong. Giving away a shitload of money is pretty amazing for people who do great work. But it's all sort of stagy, and it really hit home when the rich dude put on his shiny suit right before handing out the cash. That way we know who's really in charge here. Nice work, Fox.

And speaking of Fox, Fox News finally got to ask a question at a President-elect Obama press conference, and I gotta say, the Fox News Reporter totally blew it. He asked about Bill Richardson's beard. That's right: Bill's beard. What this has to do with commerce I have no idea.

See? Tourists Stink!

Not so long ago, I wrote a little ditty about how tourists stink. I also managed to offend a friend who happened to be visiting right before I wrote it, even though I really wasn't referring to her. Although she does smoke. But really, she's not smelly. Except when she's blowing smoke in my face. Which she really didn't do at all.

Boy, I'm a good friend.

Anyway, I'm not the only person who thinks that tourists stink. Upon the opening of the newly air-conditioned Capitol Visitor Center, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid said that in the old Visitor Center, you could "literally smell the tourists coming into the Capitol." He's confident that it's a problem that will be solved now.

Don't be too sure, Senator. After all, I'm smelling tourists on the Brooklyn Bridge, which is outside, often with high winds, and it doesn't seem to make a difference. Tourists stink.

And lest you think I absolve myself from this problem, I am occasionally a tourist as well. I'm sure I stink. I'm on vacation, and I'm there to relax and see the sites. Sometimes a shower just isn't a priority.

So yes, Senator Reid, tourists stink. And I know that Washington is all about Hope and Change these days, but beware: tourists will stink with or without air-conditioning in the Capitol Visitor Center.

Mets - An Off-Season Update

With all the Obama excitement, or "Obitement" as the kids like to call it, you three faithful B&E readers may have thought that I'd forgotten about my beloved, hapless New York Metropolitan Baseball Club. Alas, I have not.

The first no-brainer of the off-season was picking up the option on Carlos Delgado's contract for another year. There was nothing non-brainy about it until about halfway through this past season. Delgado was the Mets fan's go-to scapegoat (eat your heart out, Kaz Matsui) for about a year-and-a-half until June, when Delgado went on an offensive tear unparalleled in the league. At 36, he's still got it.

Otherwise, there's much rebuilding to be done, particularly in terms of the disastrous Mets bullpen. Mets GM Omar Minaya is seeking relief among Major League Baseball's corps of relievers.

So who will it be? Well, that Francisco Rodriguez had a hell of a year, although I suspect he's just got another couple of decent seasons in him before he becomes yet another Kaz Matsui. And K-Rod, the dumbest nickname for a pitcher ever, will be commanding a giant contract over many years.

There are a handful of other terrific options out there, too, but my heart is set on one man in particular...

That man is J.J. Putz, recently of the Seattle Mariners. Really, I just want an excuse to scream, "You Putz!" at ballgames all season long.

Yes, there will be excitement at the new Shea Stadium, which I'm not ready to call CitiField, although Bailout Ballfield or U.S. Treasury Stadium might work. And I see no reason why the Mets shouldn't have a pitcher whose name means penis in Yiddish.

It'll be particularly compelling on Jewish Heritage Night during International Week.