BuggBlog

Larry Craig's meat market

I'm not one to spend a lot of time making of fun of elected politicians who were ensnared in blatant police entrapment programs, but.... Well, you'd think someone on Larry Craig's staff (huh, "staff," huh-huh) would have thought twice, or even once, before sending out a press release on the U.S. beef crisis that ends with the line, "I most certainly will continue eating U.S. beef."

Grade A, I'm sure.

Oh, and the headline for the release: "Beef: It's Still What's for Dinner."

Man, I want this guy re-elected. He's like the worst of all possible worlds for Republicans.

(all via tnr)

Back to the Starr chamber

Hillary Clinton's campaign debuted a new campaign tactic today -- comparing Barack Obama to former special prosecutor and Clinton White House bête noire Kenneth Starr. All because the Obama campaign, in the face of some pretty ferocious attacks from the Clinton machine, has had the temerity to ask about Clinton's tax returns. As others quickly noted, it's a particularly precious line of attack given that Clinton spent a lot of time during her first Senate run clobbering Rick Lazio for...not releasing his tax returns.

I swear to god, I don't think I can take another four to eight years of these people.

Democrats are driving me to distraction

After this morning's post, I was going to take a day or two off from political topics, mostly because my far-better half is beginning to get really annoyed by my primary election antics. I think he hit his limit last night when Hillary Clinton began listing all the states she had "won" and she said "Florida" and I screamed "Bullshit!" and then it became one of those awkward nights where we didn't really say anything else to each other beyond "Good night."

So I was going to focus exclusively on non-political topics that are of great interest to me, like, who has the best ass in men's professional tennis. Believe me, that's something I could go on about for hundreds, thousands, of words. And not just about Rafael Nadal. There's something special about Guillermo Cañas every time he turns away from the camera as well. Oddly, it does seem that all the truly fine asses in tennis hail from Spain or South America. I'm not going to hazard a guess why, but like the blue in the sky and the green in the grass, I'm going to take it as a sign of a wonderful, wonderful world.

But politics keeps breaking through. Specifically, all the Clintonian antics and superdelegate shenanigans that make me weep for the fact the so many Democrats seem determined to go to any lengths to lose what should be a grand slam election year. How so? Well, let's see:

Ohioan superdelegates are attempting to extort Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton by withholding their endorsements until one candidate surpasses the other in promising radically protectionist trade policies that will not only hurt our overall economy but would further damage our already tattered status on the world stage. Way to go Democrats! You've shown that by sticking with the outdated and undemocratic superdelegate system you can gin up an election that's even fundamentally more screwed up, unfair and politically damaging than Bush v. Gore in Florida. Which candidate is most likely to give over their first born for the Ohio support? Get ready to take one for the team, Chelsea!

Then there's the always ethical Harold Ickes and Terry McAuliffe putting out their spin that the delegates Barack Obama has won through the primary and caucus system -- the rules of which have been in place for longer than his children have been born -- aren't actually pledged delegates, but are simply "automatic" delegates no different from the superdelegates that Clinton is so vampirically courting. Voting? Who needs that trouble? According to the Clinton calculus, the nation could save a lot of money having a handful of primaries in the states that count -- those would be the states she's won -- and letting everyone else eat cake or something. It is not hyperbole to point out that this is exactly the kind of parseltongued, doublespeak, backstabbing political maneuvering that would be on display in the event of a Clinton restoration.

Politics is a game for the tough. Lying is a game for the venal. You pick which sentence the Clinton campaign fits best.

Then there's the ongoing attempts to seat delegates from Michigan, where Obama wasn't even on the ballot, and Florida, where he didn't campaign -- all according the the agreements and rules that Clinton signed onto before the primary. Yeah, Howard Dean, the DNC leadership, the Michigan and Florida legislatures, and their respective governors all bear more responsibility for this clusterfuck than the candidates. But the fact remains that Clinton had the chance to protest on behalf of those states before this all started -- she chose to stroke the egos of Iowa and New Hampshire instead. Rules may be made to be broken for elementary school students, but not for democratic elections.

Oh, and then there's the Clinton "Well, he can be my vice president" approach. Because after amassing a huge debt, insulting half the states in the nation, losing 12 states in a row, insulting black voters, claiming that being First Lady counts as political experience except in those cases where plausible deniability is needed, not releasing tax returns, trailing in delegates by a consistently significant amount, and softening up her opponent with Republican-ready attack ads, Clinton is totally in a position to dictate to Democrats who the lower half of the 2008 ticket is going to be. Hey Hillary! Maybe you can save him a seat at the back of your bus while you're at it!

Damn it, I'm hyperventilating again. Time to go catch some Cañas action at the Tennis Channel Open. At least there I know the rules won't be changed in the middle of the match.

When smart people say stupid things

When it comes to politics I'm pretty much resigned to hearing lots of smart people say incredibly stupid things -- it is, after all, what many of them are paid to do. Not that it excuses Mark Penn.

But anyway....

Outside the realm of presidential politics, a blogger/writer I generally enjoy reading for his erudition and keen analysis, Matthew Yglesisas, took a brief political breather this morning to chime in on the latest scandals of non-fiction memoirs that turn out to be totally fiction. After referencing 19th and early-20th century novels that would set themselves up to be narrations of "the truth" -- I'm thinking Edgar Allen Poe off the top of my head, but plenty of examples from both the high and low brow apply -- Yglesias lets loose with this howler:

Meanwhile, contemporary fiction is pretty sharply bifurcated between crappy "genre" fiction and literary fiction that often seems very artsy-fartsy. For a well-crafted but basically straightforward story of people doing things and interacting with each other in a moderately realistic way, you need to turn to narrative non-fiction.

Now, this is the statement of someone who either hasn't read any fiction since wrapping up John Dos Passos back in college or has cast aside all evidence to the contrary in order to feed the blog beast by making a "point."

Let's start with the slam on "genre" fiction, which is all the more amusing coming from someone whose last name sounds like a Old One from an H.P. Lovecraft novel. As some others have pointed out in his comments, the argument that genre is automatically crappy is wrong because pretty much 75 to 90 percent of all creative endeavors -- novels, non-fiction, movies, television, magazines, political blogs -- are crap. That doesn't mean that everything is crap -- it actually is the reason to appreciate the truly artistic moments, particularly those that flourish within the sometimes overwrought rules of "genre" fiction. Just for a quick example, Yglesias might want to have a chat with Michael Dirda over at the Washington Post Book World about science-fiction/fantasy genre writer Gene Wolfe, of whom Dirda writes: "Gene Wolfe not only entertains, he invests his work with a complexity and trickiness that place him among the most important American novelists of our time."

And that's without even getting into Neil Gaiman, Ursula K. LeGuin, George R.R. Martin, Samuel Delaney, Octavia Butler, or any number of others who have proven that genre boundaries by no means exclude literary fiction. And the same can be  said for just about any other genre, be it crime, thriller, western, horror -- in each you will find exemplary practitioners of their craft, just as you'll find the standard ranks of hacks and pretenders.

I don't fell like extending this for a full essay length -- unless, of course, the Atlantic might want to pick up, wadda ya say? -- but I also feel compelled to defend the honor of literary fiction. Sure, the same as genre, the same as non-fiction, the ranks of so-called literary fiction is swelled by the artsy-fartsy products of MFA programs. But there remains more quality out there than most of us will ever have time to read. Myself, I'm a near stalker-level fan of David Foster Wallace, whose Infinite Jest is one of the most difficult, intelligent, funny, sad and deeply human novels I have ever read. And he's not alone.

To believe that contemporary fiction is either crappy genre or artsy-fartsy is to show that you don't bother to look beyond the table placed at the entrance to Barnes and Noble or click beyond the Amazon home page that tries to sell you the latest Dean Koontz novel or Jonah Goldberg's Liberal Fascism.

There's plenty of smart stuff out there, if you take a moment to look.

About last night

So, Texas was close for Hillary Clinton, but I haven't found anything that sets out the delegate counts, particularly for the Texas caucuses that were apparently won by Barack Obama. Because for all the wild spinning going on this morning, it remains a close race in which Obama maintains a lead in delegates -- important, since delegates are what determine who wins the nomination.

Although that seems to be getting lost a bit. Howard Kurtz this morning takes a swing at Obama's inability to "close the deal" and the supposed spin from his rally last night: "Little wonder, then, than Obama said he has nearly the same delegate lead that he had in the morning. You go with the math most favorable to your side."

Actually, Howard, you just go with the math. The funny thing about math is that it pretty much always stays with the straightforward formulas, like "if a>b and b>c then a>c," even if you have Ohio and Texas voting systems trying to screw around with the fabric of the space-time continuum.

Anyways, cold hard delegate math aside, the next few days will be tough for supporters of either Democrat. And, despite the assurances of various political poo-bahs that an extended Democratic race won't hurt the party's chances at all, no sir, no way, it's hard not to be nervous about a footloose John McCain traipsing around the country basking in the glow of his still-rosy press corps, while Clinton and Obama continue to hack at each other.

I've put a full version of last night's liveblog after the jump, hard-posted into the blog so you don't have to launch something else to get it.

What rough beast slouches towards Cleveland?

Can't we all just agree with me and get along?

Cavin and I had a fight last night. About telecomm immunity.

I think I need for this portion of the election cycle to be over.

Speaking of, I'll probably be live-blogging some election returns tonight starting around 7:30 p.m., probably focusing on CNN and/or MSNBC. I'm unlikely to bother with Fox News as Karl Rove, et al, make me want to gouge out my eyeballs. Chris Mathews just makes me want to punch myself repeatedly in the head, so I can live with that in the name of, oh, bloggy news something or other.

Fresh air, sunshine and a crappy serve

With the temperature pushing close to 70, today was the perfect day to start my outdoor tennis season. Well, maybe not perfect, since the sun was right in my eyes every other service game and the incessant wind kept blowing the ball into bizarre trajectories I'd need a physics degree to figure out. Yep, there's nothing like stepping onto an outdoor court after three or four months of play in the perfect atmosphere of indoor courts.

Of course, when November rolls around again I'll be bitching about how indoor courts never have enough room behind the baseline for me to retrieve big bouncing moonballs and such.

So, today was not an auspicious debut for me -- I lost 7-5, 6-1 to Lucas -- the guy I'm supposed to beat by September. Neither was it a pretty match in either way, especially when he went all Martina Chang and started underhanding serves. Or when I would set up to hit an easy forehand only to whiff it.

The upside is that's it's easy to get a court during the first week of March. When I started squeezing in weekday lunch matches late last summer, I expected grabbing a court would be simple since, you know, real people worked and stuff. Not actually the case, as it turns out. But for a few weeks, at least, when the weather provides a spring preview, I can get some much needed practice in.

And judging by my junky serve, I need it.

Stop living in the past

It's officially 2008. If you still have a Kerry/Edwards bumper sticker on your car, you're a loser.

And if you still have one of those "W - The President" stickers, you may as well turn it upside down because you're "M - The Moron."

I think I'm feeling a little testy today.

Scenes from an ESL marriage

As we're getting ready to leave the house yesterday for a quick shopping trip, I notice Cavin's wearing the "Life Is Good" t-shirt he picked up during our P-town vacation, which gives me a flood of warm and fuzzy memories, making me a little bit silly and Sunday-morning romantic.

Me: "Aw, honey, life really is good."

Quick hug and kiss.

Cavin: "Yes honey, not as good as without you."

Me: "Oh, that's so sw.... hey, wait a second."