Evenin’ folks. I kicked butt at work today. If I could bottle and sell whatever chemical cocktail kicks in inside me when I’m up against a wall and makes me 300% more productive than normal… umm, how do you end a sentence that starts with “If I could bottle…?” Whatever. I guess it’s actually my max output, I just set my idle to slack rather than max, that’s all. I’m cool with it, it keeps me paid.
Revisiting yesterday’s post – some good points made by readers.
Cynthasizer is right: hindsight is 20:20, and regardless of past mistakes we now have an obligation to clean up the mess we’ve caused. I completely agree that to leave the country in its present state would be just as bad as invading that country without cause to begin with. However, in my mind there’s a balance scale – on one side is the honor due us for now “staying the course,” in which I feel there is indeed honor to be had, and on the other is the regret and apology for the whole mess to begin with. If the administration thinks a mid-term “we’re sorry, but now we’re dedicated to making it right” trick is gonna leave a pleasant taste in my mouth, they’re wrong. And, while the old what’s-done-is-done story of forgive and forget just doesn’t seem like it should work this time – what the hell else are we gonna do about it? Go back in time and change it? However, just because it’s all now immutable history doesn’t mean it’s any more fathomable, forgivable, or less suspicious (well, to me, at least).
Wes also makes a good point: at least the administration is owning up to it’s previous shortcomings, perhaps this will help us save some global face; I sure hope so. However, I have to wonder if this admission, and acceptance of guilt, is less of an administration taking stock and coming clean and not more to give the voting populous some “healing” and “forgetting” time before 2008. Republicans need their reputation to be one of those who admit guilt when wrong, and stay the course for the greater good – not one of those who misread faulty intelligence and launch mistaken invasions and occupations. No, perhaps what we’re seeing here is actually a sacrifice bunt; the Bush administration takes one for the good of the GOP. But, motivation aside, Wes is correct in that admitting wrongdoing is indeed the first step – and that, at least, is encouraging.
Finally, and, unintentionally, in reverse order – my mom’s first comment on my blog. The only thing I try to do, politically, in this blog, or in real-life, is not be rabid. While I view passion as commendable, I look at extremism as being laughable. I’m a die-hard optimist y’all, to the very fiber of me, and I refuse to believe that two people can’t get along on some level. I think all sorts of thinkers can ultimately get along if they just hold back the foaming-at-the-mouth deep-end thinking that just defies logic. The only time I’ll admit this doesn’t work is when one of said two people is insane. And yes, rabid liberalism, or conservatism, or freakin’ Rastafarianism for that matter, qualify you as insane in my mind – and I don’t have to believe that we’ll eventually get along, my conscience gives me permission to write you off. Be normal, be reasonable 80% of the time, and we’ll be fast friends. What does this have to do with my mom? Not much, other than I was trying to make some point about me being more middle-of-the-road than leaning one way or another. And… I think that… somehow… relates to her comment. I mean, c’mon, I didn’t picket for Tookie’s clemency – but it’s hard to turn a blind eye to a “mistake” of a war. That said, yesterday’s entry wasn’t the first time I’ve been caught with my zipper down, all my “liberal” hanging out.
Every year, I watch online music rags and mp3 blogs for year-end “best of” roundups. Invariably, I’m introduced to at least a couple albums I’d never heard of during the year which happened to be someone else’s favorite. Tonight I gabbed an album I’d seen on several lists, Andrew Bird’s Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs. Yes, it’s one of those albums that indie folks are embarrassed to call by name in the car when one of their poppier passengers asks, “What’s this you’re listening to?” “Oh, that’s just Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs.” Cue head-cocked stares and befuddled smirks. Anyway, it’s slow, so if you don’t like slow don’t do it. But, if you like slow and lyrical, do it. Good stuff. Also making a positive splash in early showings with me, another year-end-list find, Okkervil River’s Black Sheep Boy. Keep an eye out here for continued fawning or a quick fade into obscurity.
Then that’s it then; Friday and we leave tomorrow for Florida. I dunno how writing will go for those ten days, but I’d guess it won’t be as frequent as is has been. We’ll see, sometimes I surprise myself.
Goodnight.
