Open Letter To Barnes & Noble, from An Employee

I've been working at Barnes & Noble for roughly a year and a half now and I frankly enjoy it. My coworkers are good people, and I'm around books all day, which is why folks like me usually take jobs like this in the first place.

Occasionally, though, I see something that makes me raise my eyebrows, and, far more rarely, something that just plain irks me.

At the moment, consider me irked.

Now, let me first say that I fully support the B&N mission to sell pretty much anything that is printed on some form of paper and bound between two covers. We'll pimp anything in print, and chocolate besides - it's how we make money, and that's fine; I'm a capitalist, after all.

Let me also say that, in regards to books that may be found offensive by the adherents of certain religions, I recognize that Barnes & Noble has the right to not carry certain magazines that have cartoons that may be found offensive by rampaging muslims while at the same time carrying any number of books that are most certainly found offensive by religions that don't issue fatwas. It's a free market, and you have the safety of your employees to consider.

Let me also say right up front that I do not think you are currently carrrying anything in your inventory that I believe should be pulled out of your inventory, no longer to be sold by B&N. I don't believe it's possible to sell any book at all that couldn't be found offensive in some way by someone. I haven't met a person yet who didn't have a sore spot or two when it came to Things In Print. Try to appease everyone, and you'll soon end up selling nothing. I understand this point.

That being said . . .

I am irked about a certain book. I am not going to ask you to stop selling it - it's a big seller, after all - nor am I going to suggest that you're going to hell, or wherever, for carrying it at all.

The book is Jon Krakauer's Under the Banner of Heaven, reviewed here. It is not a happy or religiously inspirational book to read, certainly. The back cover alone, which describes the Mormon church as "Taliban-like", would be amusing in some other context. The book itself is less amusing, arguing that Mormons - all Mormons, and not just a few polygamist nutjobs - are potentially violent, perhaps murderously so, precisely because of our religion. (Yes, I am Mormon.)

Well, Krakauer is certainly free to have such a view and to write it, just as B&N is free to sell his book in an open market place.

What I want to know is, how did this book end up on two - count them, 2 - different displays on Barnes & Noble's display tables? And, in regards to at least one table, I'm talking about Store List books, books that some yahoo in a cubicle in Marketing at B&N's headquarters has decided need to be displayed on specific tables or endcaps in the store.

Under the Banner of Heaven appears on both the "Religion & Inspiration" table and, amazingly, the Easter table.

It boggles the mind. Unless I missed one, Krakauer's book is the ONLY negatively-themed book on BOTH tables. As it is frankly a sloppily-researched attack on a major religion, what is it doing on these displays?

I mean, Good Lord, at the very least I'd like to know how this book ended up on an Easter display, seeing as it has nothing to with discussing the Mormon POV of Christ's Resurrection? More tellingly, why isn't it being accompanied on the Religion & Inspiration table by equally ridiculous and offensive choices, such as "The Catholic Menace!" or "Those Damn Jews Ate My Baby!"

Just curious.

Cameron Wood
Store 2751

I am now officially a Published Poet (tm)

Bow down before me, mortals!

(And, Greetings, California Bear Flag League members!)

(And welcome, readers of Annika's Journal! Kick up your feet and relax a bit. My brother and I are turning into letter-writing geezers as we approach our dotage, so have a laugh or two at our expense. We're also getting senile, so we won't know what the heck you're snorkling about.)

Moorpark College's Moorpark Review has seen fit to print my sonnet So we are all of us abandoned Lears in their 2005 issue.

It's a weird little poem, since these days I'm not entirely sure I agree with it. I used it to finish off a paper I wrote about King Lear in 2001. Of course, the fact that I might not agree with it anymore doesn't mean I like it any less - I'm a poet, after all, and that means EGO (ErGO, I like my stuff). The professor, God bless his old-school soul, didn't mark me down for it even though he could have (ah - the freedom of lower division essays!).

Basically, I am pretty dang happy to see that one of my poems got the nod in the Moorpark Review.

Now the question is, how can I use this to leapfrog to fame and fortune?

And please - wait a day or two before crushing my dreams.

In the meantime, here's the Almost Absolute Finished Version of a poem I assaulted you with a few days ago. Any poem that can't survive violent revision didn't have much hope to begin with, is what I'm learning:

On the Morning of A Day Off, A Little Wind and Rain

An old, missed friend wakes me up, politely
Tapping my window with soft fingers,
Whispering the new stories she has learned.
And I’m all ears, warm under my blanket,
Sitting up with my back against the cool wall,
Listening, trying to find a rhythm
In her words, perpetually relieved
To never discern any noticeable pattern.
It would ruin the instance if I did;
Like hearing a drumbeat put to an aria.

There’s no sorrow, no worsted gray buttoned up
Over the colorful promise of her mysteries.
Beneath my closed eyes, her words become
An intimate canvas primed and waiting for
Some improvised brush of . . .
Life, she taps on my window. Laughter. Love.
Each flurry of words brings me
Closer to new than I have been in years.

My window’s open; she enters on the breeze.
Such a scent she brings, clean and real,
The scent wild things know after the snows melt,
And with her comes the lush green certainty
Of something taking root in me,
Like a seed pushed into readied earth by
Some wise old farmer in the North Forty,
And I imagine that when my friend and I
Meet again in the spring, in a rambling conversation
About wild sprouts and raucous blooms,
I’ll be glad then that I don’t now close my window
Just to avoid her random, friendly kisses.

It doesn’t rain enough in Southern California.

Cameron Wood '06

One of the best short essays on Hamlet you'll ever see

It makes sense, so you know it didn't come from some doofus at Harvard.

Interestingly, many professors of English Lit. absolutely LOVE Hamlet (see cavaet, below), the character, precisely because he's exactly the kind of antisocial knucklehead said professors wish they had the nerve to be. Not all - just most.

I keep telling people that Hamlet is easily Shakespeare's most evil character, but I've been a lone voice in the desert on this issue. After reading Gerard's post, I'll simply say in the future that Hamlet surely does represent the progressive party. The best thing is, folks who admire the obnoxious weed will never know they're being insulted, since those who like him tend to be liberal professors and their fawning students in the first place.

(Um, that is, I tell people my views on Hamlet in those extremely rare moments when the subject comes up. It's not like I'm running round Barnes & Noble grabbing people by their shirt fronts and yelling "Hamlet is evil! HAMLET IS EVIL!" although that would be pretty fun to do one day.)

#251 - Do You Feel Secure?

Michelle Malkin has been tirelessly dogging the Department of Homeland Security, pretty much since its inception (or, more appropriately, misconception), and once again tosses a few more logs on the bonfire.

This is where the business of big government consistently fails. It matters little which party is in power. Government seems to exist only for the purpose of creating more government. In this case, government has learned how to reproduce asexually by splitting off clones of itself in order to keep family members gainfully employed.

Shame on President Bush for not having more conviction and ethical grounding in the management of this Department. My company has had its fair share of ethics violations over the past few years, and the penalties have been severe. I might suggest that the same ethics watchdogs who pounded us into submission now be turned toward the DHS to give them a thorough scrubbing.

DHS: Don't Have Security.

Yet.

P.S. As for those charts toward the bottom of her post:

"Completions Per Hour" equals "Quotas" no matter how you couch it.

#250 - All I Can Say About Katie Couric...

...is, it couldn't happen to a more deserving network.

Take that any way you please.

I'm In VERY Good Company, Pt. II

Readers of Woodys Woundup would have no reason to know this, but I also had a thing or two to say about the poetry of Rosie O'Donnell (link includes a special bonus Jane Fonda screed!).

Once again, I am not alone here.

Since this is National Poetry Month, Annika Of The Above Link (who is also a nifty poet and poetry enthusiast, and who sent me a nifty mug because she liked a rather disgusting KISS haiku I did last year - sigh - why is it always my dirty stuff that wins the awards?) points us to The Sheila Variations which has plenty of poetry goodness, just sittin' there waiting to be read.

I don't know if I'm much of a poet, but I've certainly got all of a poet's necessary vanity, so naturally I feel obliged to point you towards a couple that I've done.

The Olive Pressed (heavy religious poem)

Reflections On Terror (heavy political/war poem)

I also had a brief fling with trying to be a poetry critic, but . . . uh . . . I just wasn't, you know, very good at it. I may let Ah-nuld return, but I need to learn lots, LOTS more first.

Well. With all that out of the way, I must point you in two other directions.

First, there is Philip Larkin, whose poetry has affected me more profoundly than any other poetry I've read, even though I don't usually agree with him. I consider him one of the finest craftsman. Period. Take, for example, his astonishing Church Going. I harder kick in the gut when it comes to discussing the death of religion at the personal level I haven't yet found. Don't just read it for the message, which is, I admit, bleak, but check it over for its form and rhyme. Clever, clever poetry, Mr. Larkin.

An entirely different kind of voice is found in Ted Kooser, current Poet Laureate of the United States, and whom I have only recently started reading. There is absolutely no fat whatsoever in Kooser's poems. Check out the artistry of Tattoo:

What once was meant to be a statement—
a dripping dagger held in the fist
of a shuddering heart—is now just a bruise
on a bony old shoulder, the spot
where vanity once punched him hard
and the ache lingered on. He looks like
someone you had to reckon with,
strong as a stallion, fast and ornery,
but on this chilly morning, as he walks
between the tables at a yard sale
with the sleeves of his tight black T-shirt
rolled up to show us who he was,
he is only another old man, picking up
broken tools and putting them back,
his heart gone soft and blue with stories.

(from Delights & Shadows, Copper Canyon Press, Port Townsend, WA 2004)

Oh, man, do I have things to learn.

I Am In VERY Good Company

You may remember my remarks concerning Jackson's King Kong.

You no longer have to take only my word for it.

#249 - Let Me Get This Straight... (Updated)

As ccwbass aptly points out, it suddenly is uncool to be American. Especially in America.

So far I've been able to stay on the perimeter of the debate surrounding this whole immigration bill debaucle. I'm not a particular fan of the legislation as proposed, and I hope it goes down in flames (figuratively speaking, of course). At the same time, I have a small bone to pick with the entire community of people who feel that disrupting life in this country is somehow justified by their opposition to this bill.

Here's the bottom line, folks. If you choose to live in this country, for whatever reason, you choose to become Americans. It's that simple. I know there's this whole "cultural identity" thing that sociologists want everyone to cling to, but we're not asking you to abandon your culture. If you really want to live in this country, what we're asking you to do is become Americans. At least if you choose to stay here.

Now, you can be Latino; you can be African; you can be Hindi or even Moslem. But if you want to be a citizen, that makes you an American by definition. If you don't want to be an American, or if you don't want to be identified as an American, then get used to the idea that you are temporary.

We make people who want to become citizens pass a test. We ask them a few relatively simple questions (unless, of course, you're a high school student in this country, in which case it's not so simple), then ask them to take an oath. We even encourage them to (gasp!) learn English. If you're not willing to do that, you are temporary.

Many of you have ancestors who sacrificed everything they had to live in this country and give people like you a chance at a better life. Perhaps the work they found was menial, but many of them felt that it was at least better than what they faced "back home." If you don't appreciate that sentiment, you are temporary.

If you are temporary and have decided to remain so, you really have no say in how this country is run. Only voters have that say and that right. Voters can only be citizens of this country. Period.

So, forgive those of us who had ancestors who decided to come to this country and make it their own. If they came a little late to the party, they at least decided at some point to cherish the freedoms that come with citizenship. They had trials, to be sure, and many of them faced unspeakable hardships in accepting this citizenship, but they still cherished it. The moment they decided to be permanent citizens, they adopted the moniker of "American." And they did so with pride. We, too, feel that pride.

Protest, if you must. Voice your displeasure, or stamp your feet and throw a tantrum. But don't for a moment expect me to be sympathetic if you decide that my patriotism is in any way inconvenient to you. That just defines you as temporary.

Or illegal.

UPDATE: Apparently we misinterpret their intent. I am less than convinced.

"Nobody gets upset with the Irish on St. Patrick's Day," said Gabriela Lemus, director of policy and legislation at the Washington, D.C.- based League of United Latin American Citizens, the group that organized most of the recent protests and is heading the dozens of marches and rallies scheduled across the nation Monday.

Yes, but the Irish aren't shutting down major commerce centers with their temper tantrums. Nor are they insulting the American flag on St. Paddy's Day.

Expressing your displeasure is one thing. Angering your "fellow citizens" isn't helping your cause.

America! . .

. . . Land of the DON'T YOU DARE DISPLAY THAT AMERICAN FLAG ON CAMPUS, YOUNG MAN!

Hugh's got the links.

#248 - The Debate Continues

Another round fired from the cannon. A new study has been released in the Journal of Neuroscience indicating that premature babies can, indeed, feel pain. For many years the argument has been that preemies (and, by extension, unborn babies) cannot truly feel pain and therefore are merely reflexively responding to stimuli. This study would seem to contradict that presumption, and gives the right to life argument some figurative teeth.

One of the worst falsehoods perpetuated by the abortionists has been that since a fetus is "incapable" of processing pain, abortion can be regarded as just another procedure. Something that (in their dogma) corrects a mistake without violating the sanctity of life. Pro-lifers have, on the other hand, always believed that this simply could not be true. Since scientists still have a hard time pinning down the precise moment at which pain processors develop in the fetus' brain, who's to say that they cannot feel pain, or at what point in the pregnancy it becomes painful for the victim to be subjected to such a procedure?

This new study would seem to sharpen that argument. For myself, I have always harbored the belief that these unborn children are far more aware than abortionists are willing to concede. When I was still ambitious enough to try to improve my mind, I took a creative writing class at a local college. For my term assignment, I wrote a report on pre-natal psychology, a discipline still lambasted by many psychologists today. Probably the liberal ones, would be my guess, although I have no imperical evidence of that.

These papers were subject to peer review, and I remember one gentleman in particular remarking that my paper sounded less like a creative writing assignment, and more like a doctoral thesis. That was a compliment, given that the assignment was to write a paper based on research, and I had given this one hours of my life. I learned that there were numerous instances of people having memories that had formed while still in the womb. People whose mothers had sung a particular melody while pregnant, and who hadn't sung it after the baby was born. The person then hears that melody in another context and it sounds familiar. It's only when describing the melody to their mother that the mystery is resolved. I was (and still am) fascinated by this premise. Whether or not people choose to accept it as real science, I think this new study helps to support the notion.

Now, I don't for a moment believe that this new argument will sway the abortionists one whit. Their rationalizations are too firmly rooted in societal norms to be easily swayed by a mere study. In fact, I predict (this is a sucker's bet, I realize) that the nay-sayers will quickly talk down this study and argue against every point it makes. This is, after all, what government grants are all about. Still, I find it encouraging that even in this "enlightened" twenty-first century, scientists can still verify - even without intending to - that God really does know what he's doing.

If, in the meantime, this kind of study makes just one woman waver in her decision to get an abortion, it will have been worth it. We need to be far more conscientious about this decision than the pro-choice executioners would have us be. We need to understand that deciding to end a pregnancy does not correct a mistake. It ends a life. This is not a convicted felon who deserves to die for his or her misdeed. This is an innocent child who is as yet incapable of committing sin*.

God understands that. And he is not pleased.

* I realize that there are and will be times when an abortion may be necessary, especially in preserving the life of the mother. I'm just saying that such should be our moral compass that even to consider such a thing would be personally abhorrent and only undertaken under such an extreme condition.

Proof That I'm Bi-Polar!

Or maybe the rain just brings out wild mood swings. In any case, both this and the previous were written today. Go figure.

Pushed politely along by a breeze, rain
Touches against the window in
Light taps, like a friend
Discretely whispering for attention.

My bed is below the window.
I’m still and warm under the blanket,
Sitting up against the cool wall,
Eyes closed: listening;
Trying to find a rhythm, happy to
Never discern one.

It would ruin the instance
If I did;
Like hearing a drum beat
Put to an aria.

The gentle chaos is
Soothing, inviting,
Not gray or melancholy;
Rather, it’s a private canvas
Primed and waiting for
Improvised brushstrokes of
Color.

Each flurry of taps brings me
Out of myself, back
Down to earth,
And closer to new, to now, than I have
Been in years.

My window is open enough
To catch the breeze,
The smell of rain, the sense
Of something rooting within me,
Set and covered like a seed
Pushed into soft earth by
Some old farmer
In the North Forty
And that will shamelessly bloom in spring
With raucous laughter
And wild sprouts.

It doesn’t rain enough
In California.


Cameron Wood, April 04, 2006

That's all - I'm puttin' away the pen for a bit.

Thank God I Only Get Like This Every Now And Again

On The Temptation Towards Self Pity
(I'm always in a better mood after having vented like this)

One burns for every insult done to me.
One burns for every insult from my mouth.
One burns for every memory I see:
Regrets that stretch to middle-age from youth.

My candles bleed the very thing they eat;
So, life and passion drip throughout each day.
So grows the waxen ocean at my feet
Of candles spent to keep the Light at bay.

There are no shadows but the ones I’ve made
By every candle raised to tower height:
For every tower, a corresponding shade,
(Thus, for my warmth, I need each tiny light).

And I should snuff them, each and every one:
Just up and blow each wick to kill the flame,
And give the flickering shadows to the Sun,
To melt the silly “pity me’s” of blame.

But hardened wax has glued me to my place,
And I find comfort, fastened to this sea:
The comfort of my old familiar face
That burns in every candle that I see.

Which Idea Requires Greater Faith?

The Bible's Account of Jesus walking on water, or this one?

UPDATE: More at American DIgest. I know I link Gerard too much; he's right over there on the link bar, fer pete's sake, but I'm just so astonished to have beaten him to a story. Of course, he actually had something to SAY about it, whereas my post was . . . uh . . . you know . . .

[rereads actual 11-word post]

Never mind.

Woody appends:

Nifty take-down, Gerard! Rock on!

Gerard Van Der Leun: He's A Sneaky Devil

I've been away from the blogs for a few days, and that's too bad since it would have been nice to have read Gerard's parody of (or impersonation of) Borders Books' CEO Gregory Josefwicz the day it was posted.

As an employee of a similar company - Barnes & Noble - I read it with more than the usual amount of interest. Gerard makes excellent points, frankly, but the real fun is in the comments sections, both at American Digest and Little Green Footballs.

I have to admit - and you can say this stems from cowardice if you want to - that the notion that some blog-addicted yahoo (and there seem to be more then a few) would be willing to picket and/or boycott an American bookstore because its boss might refuse to put its tens of thousands of employees even theoretically in the path of rampaging, bloodthirsty islamist freakazoids seems, well, it just irks me somethin' fierce. The guys at the Jawa Report may be aching for a fatwa, but I'm not.

Anyway, if you simply MUST boycott the large chains, do it because they insist on keeping on Hunter S. Thompson in the "Current Events" section without even the tiniest bit of irony.

And also because when I have to help someone find a book by Noam Chomsky, I have to pretend I'm happy to be doing so.

#247 - Happy Is as Happy Does

My, oh my. What an interesting report. Pew Research Center has published a report titled "Are We Happy Yet?" that purports to gauge how Americans are feeling these days. If I may skip briefly to the bottom line, I find most interesting the idea that nearly 84% of all Americans, based on the sampling, report themselves to be "Pretty happy" or better. In fact, 50% said "Pretty happy," while 34% indicated that they were "Very happy."

That 84% figure becomes significant in an election year because, according to liberal doctrine, a majority of Americans are required to be pretty miserable so long as a Republican sits in office. (Any office, by the way... it's certainly not limited to the White House. All campaigns down to Municipal Dog Catcher are based on the premise that constituents must be miserable. Why else would anyone run?)

Oddly enough (and of great concern to Democrats, I'm sure) is the idea that of those in the "Very happy" category, 45% were Republican, while 30% were Democrats. (The fact that 29% were reported as being "Independent" points out a slight mathematical, um, irregularity of 104%, but I'm sure there must be a rounding error in there somewhere. We programmers love rounding errors.) The report even makes the case that this happiness advantage really has little to do with who is in power. The numbers, according to Pew, have remained more or less consistent since 1972. This means they've had two Democratic administrations in which to get happier than the Republicans, but have yet to overtake them.

I'm not entirely certain why Pew chose to concentrate primarily on the "Very happy" category. Some might think that "Pretty happy" wasn't bad. "Pretty happy" might seem to indicate that things are under control, at least. It acknowledges that life may be a constant struggle, but that we can derive happiness even when circumstances seem to conspire otherwise. If you were to catch me off guard and ask the question, I might be inclined to say "pretty happy" as opposed to "very happy," but I would also tell you that "pretty happy" also means "quite satisfied." And it would be true. I am, on the whole, satisfied with my life, even as I realize that things could be better. My wife and I, for example, could be healthier than we are today. On the other hand, I think it improbable that we could possibly be any happier together as a couple. That, for me, is the definition of satisfaction. I'm pretty happy, and life is good.

Now, it could be, I suppose, that I'm merely delusional. Perhaps I'm choosing to overlook all the tribulation and sickness in the world today. But I doubt it. I worry constantly about such things. I'm always worried about our ongoing war in Iraq, and the war on terror in general. I see no real end to it in the near future, and, yes, I wonder whether Iraq has become the quagmire our opponents claim it has already become. But I am comfortable with the idea that combating terror is our current Cold War. It probably won't end in the next decade. My girls may very well become adults with the understanding that Islamic extremism has become their communism. I worry, but that doesn't mean I'm not happy. Perhaps it's because I refuse to feel guilty for every wrong found in the world today. Democrats, on the whole, don't have that ability. Maybe that's why they're so unhappy. Maybe they're so busy trying to ascribe blame for every evil in the world that they don't have time to enjoy the lives that are their gift from God. Who needs that kind of life?

The Pew report, taken at face value, seems to offer some sort of formula for those who wish to achieve "Very happy" status in this life. In no particular order, these are the attributes of a very happy person:

• Be a Republican


• Attend church weekly or more


• Be married (Woody's enjoinder: It helps to be married to your best friend!)


• Have money. The happier ones earn $100K or more. I guess I'm still satisfied with "Pretty happy."


• Health and education count. Health may be obvious, but "education" is less so, in my mind. I don't have a graduate degree. However, I am constantly expanding my personal knowledge. I think that counts.

Taken as a package, I find the report to be a nice vindication of the life I lead. I am a happily married, church-going Republican with enough money to meet our needs. Does it matter to me that I am more or less happy than anyone else? No, not really. I gave up on comparing my life with anyone else's just about the time I hooked up with Mrs. Woody. We're so busy building our happiness together that I guess I just don't have time to worry about the comparisons.

Happy as charged.

#246 - Funny...

...because it's true.

#245 - Sound Bite Politics

Desperation runs deep in the ranks of the politically unhinged. Believe it or not, I can understand their frustrations. It's the same sense of dark foreboding I always felt whenever a Democrat was in control of the White House, whether that was Jimmy Carter (the first one I was old enough to be scared of) or Billy-Bob Clinton. There was always that underlying sense that the liberals were selling the country into slavery, and it seems they're still on that warpath.

Just a recent sampling from Drudge should be enough to illustrate the point.

Let's start with everyone's favorite sore loser, Al Gore. Gore is still chafing from having had the election taken away from him by the manufacturers of the ballots used in Palm Beach, Florida. And why, exactly, would the country be better off today, Mr. Gore?

"How many times have we listened to the current administration and in (state and national Republican offices), and after a few years, we wake up and say that what they have been telling us is completely wrong," Gore said. "I'm not calling it a lie," but a "false impression."

During the Clinton administration, Gore and the president got regular bulletins about potential terrorist attacks, resulting in a sort of "fire-drill," a soul-searching approach to learn "what else can we do? What are our sources? And make sure we're prepared," he said.

Does that mean, Al, that you and Billy-Bob had a plan to thwart the 9/11 attacks? Did you, perchance, share that plan with anyone? I mean, anyone who wasn't your official biographer?

I didn't think so. Must've been a false impression.

If Palm Beach was Gore's Waterloo, then Ohio certainly qualifies as the state that robbed John Seared Kerry of his chances to lead us into a glorious hedonism. His take on why he lost in 2004:

Kerry said that he had exceeded his goals in every precinct of America in the last election. “That means we have to set bigger goals,” Kerry said, stressing the need for the Democrats to gain control of one of the Houses of Congress.

Bueno. I understand now. "President of the United States" isn't as big a goal as "bloodless coup of one or more houses of Congress." Thanks for clearing that up for me.

Finally, we have a Hollywood A-lister who's been eating his Wheaties. George Clooney tells the stories no one else cares about. Except other Hollywood liberals, that is. Still, his successes of late have fueled his intense desire to run the country, much as it did for Rob Reiner a decade or so ago. Hit it, George!

"It's not merely our right to question our government, it's our duty. Whatever the consequences," he lectures.

"We can't demand freedom of speech, then turn around and say, 'But please don't say bad things about us.' You gotta be a grownup and take your hits."

The actor vents frustration that "liberal" has become a dirty word. "Too many people run away from the label. They whisper it like you'd whisper, 'I'm a Nazi.'"

But as for Clooney, "I am a liberal. Fire away," he taunts.

Yes, George, yes... you're absolutely right about questioning our government. And I do, really. I take nothing for granted, no matter who happens to sit in the Oval Office. But - and here's the beautiful thing about the First Amendment, George - I also have the right and the duty to question our Hollywood luminaries. So the question, George, becomes, "What have you, personally, done to foster and encourage a constructive dialog between the opposing sides of these thorny issues, George?" I've heard a lot of invective coming from your side of the argument, George, but not many practical solutions. "War is bad, even stupid," you say. Sure, I can get behind that. I happen to agree. But what practical solution do you offer for ending it? Bring the troops home? Simple as that? And what will we do when the next 9/11 attack occurs on our soil, George? What will Hollywood do then?

Complain, would be my guess.

Well, liberals Clooneys, you know the solution, don't you? If you really want to run the country (I mean, more than you already do), put together a coherent argument and sell it to the voters.

Simple as that.

#244 - Our Point

This is precisely why our church relies on continuing revelation.

Just sayin'.

#243 - Woody's Oscar Live-Blogging - UPDATED

Huh? The Oscars are tonight?

Nuts.

Wonder what's on PBS...?

UPDATE: 60 channels. 59 reruns. 1 exercise in gratuitous self-congratulation. Time for a DVD.

#242 - How Does One Eulogize Someone Who Ain't Dead Yet?

(H/T: Drudge)

Art Buchwald is, according to this report, refusing kidney dialysis. He chooses instead to face death on his own terms, having no idea what awaits him. He feels this is a natural way to go, and continues joking with friends and colleagues. He feels, truth be told, no different even after a month without the procedure that's supposed to save his life.

This is vintage Buchwald.

I suppose that, in at least one way, it's ironic that Buchwald has always been one of my favorite columnists. I first became acquainted with his prolific wit in the closing days of the Nixon administration, where Tricky Dicky was one of Buchwald's favorite dart boards. Since I didn't realize just how conservative I truly was until well into adulthood, I had no idea that I was supposed to disagree with his Kennedy-esque perspectives. I just enjoyed the well-sharpened barbs he threw into the politicians, public figures, and hypocrites that are rife in today's world.

Art Buchwald is, let's face it, one of the reasons why I first began to write for a hobby. He, along with Erma Bombeck and, later, Dave Barry, are also the primary reasons I choose to write humor. I have always appreciated their abilities to turn politics and societal anomalies into fodder for gut-busting laughter. I can only aspire to follow weakly in their footsteps.

So, if Art truly has one foot in the grave, God bless him. I can only pray that his slide into home plate is a smooth one.