Pro-War Group Runs Ads Urging Republicans To Stay
The Course

post from MyDD on 22 August 2007 11:52:03 PM. © MyDD

Following up on torridjoe's Breaking Blue post, Freedom's Watch, the conservative pro-war group fronted by former White House press secretary and Iraq war booster Ari Fleicher (in cahoots with a whole cabal of former Bush White House officials,) launched[...]

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Gallup Poll: Hillary at 48%

post from TalkLeft on 22 August 2007 11:52:00 PM. © TalkLeft

These are the numbers for the latest Gallup Poll.

The latest Gallup Poll, conducted Aug. 13-16, 2007, finds public support for the Democratic nomination at 48% for Clinton and 25% for Obama, giving Clinton a 23-point lead. Support for former North Carolina senator John Edwards, in third place with 13%, is similar to what he has received since May.

The remaining candidates are in the 1-2% range.

Gallup also examines Karl Rove's remarks about Hillary. Shorter version: Unfavorables this early and particularly in Hillary's case may not mean much. They also said:

It is notable that Giuliani stands as the most positively rated 2008 presidential candidate in terms of favorable ratings at 59% (with a 27% unfavorable rating), but still does not beat Clinton in a trial heat "if the election were held today".

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Christian Versions: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5
Seditious Versions: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4

Book Two
The West

1

Chariot fire was still noon bound when we hit the flat basin from which rises a city built on sin: the pseudo-country that turns electricity into unhappiness faster than any other device known to humanity. It's stratosphere tower to nowhere isn't even useful as a radio beacon, because the mountains that surround Las Vegas loom above it. But I can't help it, I love Las Vegas.

Even the sand is different here from California's inland empire, which had eaten hours with the engine humming and the air conditioner flattening dried sweat hair down on my forehead. We spun down the roof of the convertible as often as we could, until the blare of heat and light over came us and we had to pull over to bring the white ragtop of the Mustang above us, creating a shade that was a cloistered parlor in which we just chatted. The weight of the dawn, was receding and gone.

Each time he turned the ignition, sped us back up, and the road became once again arrow taking us to nowhere except everywhere, I felt a roll in my midsection that purred up from my hips, reaching my ribs and then falling like a wave. The Pacific was far behind, but I felt an ocean within me, pressing and rolling. And the winds are fanned by the fan of horsepower, I don't know how many. It isn't the size of the engine, it's how it moves you.

He still spoke in phrases tossed off. So did I, but we could volley back and forth, creating rallies of words. The were training wheels conversations, about little things like the veal at a restaurant, or the furniture. I spun my hands idly through a copy of Elle, the fashions were dowdy, checkered and black and white, with poor cuts. Who ever was buying this had. To get. A life.

A long gold dress by Shoji with an asymmetrical top stood out, a real woman might actual wear it and look good. I stared down at it as we spun up the odometer and down the miles to the place my mother always called "Strip City." I later found at she had done a stint as a show girl there. I guess she meant it as if it were a good thing. My father had met her, I learned when he tended bar for a little while after 'Nam. The conflict that always called "the war."

And there it was, a fleck of sparkles coming out the desert with an impossible sharpness. The land was surreal to me, as if the sky were changing colors and we should be in a frame of Natural Born Killers, one of my favorite movies of all time, because it was about being about. Now I think the only problem with the film is that it wasn't set in Iraq. It's the movie I'd write: a remake of Natural Born Killers set in country.

I am breathing in, and the air almost sears my lungs it is so dry. I remember Kansas and the way it was rich in moisture, without ever being humid. The air was heavy with the mist of potential, the land pregnant with rich black earth. Last night when I sucked and swallowed, it was the taste of that morning mist that came to mind. A taste of bitter, without having a taste at all. When I fell to sleep in his arms it was that idyllic summer somewhere in my childhood that appeared before my eyes, arms and legs crooked and sprawled, my teddy bear nestled by head, a smile on my face, looking at the mirror hung near the bed as my father turned out the light.

Buildings have stopped huddling together, and now string out like pearls, on our right the first casino pops up and out and beckons to us. But Merc doesn't even notice it. He's a man with a mission, and he knows where we are going to land.

The strip started to take a shape as we barreled down the road and between the other cars that seemed to be standing close to still. I idly remembered spending New Years 2001 here, watching the fireworks leap up from the great vast pyramid. I realized that I had begun to lay back and twist my hair again, because when the car veered through three lanes and to the exit.

I startle up.

"The Flamingo. It's not quite seedy but definitely not respectable."

I smile.

"Now I know where to find you if you decide to drink your life out in Vegas."

"A man has to keep his sense of romance."

"I'll get lipo and be a hooker here with you if you do."

"You aren't ugly enough. And you don't need to just dance."

"Junk in the trunk."

"Something to wave and say hello to all us guys in the audience."

"My mother was a showgirl in Vegas when she met my father. Originally they told me they meet in New York City as students. I think they did, they just didn't do anything but fuck one night during the summer of love. I've often wondered what that was like."

"I've never wondered what it was like."

"Why not?"

"We'll get a remake sooner or later. That's the only thing they do now. Remakes."

"What makes you say that."

"That's what this is, a remake of Vietnam. Bouncing baby boy Bush proving he could win the war he didn't fight."

"And what do you think."

"We've already lost the war. And it was the wrong war, in the wrong place, at the wrong time."

"I didn't know you voted for Kerry." I chuckled. My parents did, breaking their habit since Reagan of voting for Republican Presidents.

"I didn't. I won't vote for a hippy no matter how many purple hearts he faked."

I stopped talking.

We slow into the parking lot. There is a big orange "Hooters" hotel sign next door in one direction, and the airport is close by. Hooters has always offended me, because it promotes the idea of vapidity as a feminine ideal. I can say so, because, well, I am not short on cleavage. More than part of me wishes that we would just hop a plane to someplace else, far away from here and all our problems. But then I look away from it at the distant wall of hills, and I want to see them flicker by. I think at that moment, the road took hold of me, and a short flicker of images of places I had been, and will be again, drew my sense of self back, back into my skull and away from my face. Perhaps that isn't the right way to say it. But so it is.

Behind is the Pyramid, that looks sleek and glowering by daylight. Peeking through the clutter is the façade of New York, New York.

The engine settles to a stop. He turns and looks at me.

I know that look.

It is 11:13 and too early to start drinking.

I have my hand on his. I want to tell him it is alright, the shock of last night's dream is over, and he has talked to me enough, I've reached equilibrium and peace. I feel a turning in my intestines. I'm distinctly not hungry for food.

"Lunch."

I smile wickedly. "Dessert first."

And that's what we did. There are mirrors on the ceilings there, carved up by slats of woods to look like palm tree designs.

It was almost without formalities that he was back on the bed, having fallen backward in mock response to my touch. I was smiling and giggling as I parted enough buttons down my front to expose my bra.

Sometimes it is about you, the waves the warmth, and some inner sea whose time and tides have reached a certain crest of the moon.

Sometimes it is about him, his flesh shining and taut, needing to be sprung and scattered about the room, like a deck of cards bent and shot outwards.

I, this moment, I could feel my knowing smile, I could look down on his half expecting, half grateful face, and know that it was about him, and about my ability to take all the ligature marks that wind around his spirit, and massage them out with my mouth and hands.

And it is not long before, almost suppressing laughter of pleasing superior joy, that my palms are on him on the way down, my fingertips dragging on the way up. I am swirling my tongue around him, moistening my lips. Sometimes I let him last along time, and sometimes, he needs to leap up into me.

And so it is with an easy detachment that I look at the lines that cut through his crest, the almost lip shape that is at the opening, the twin curves like miniature hips on the underside. I swoop and kiss it, I lick it in strokes. It is not the sensation on me that floods into my mind, it is not the sensuality. It is that I know these droplets of affection are bringing forth a flowering quiet need in him, a longing for me, a collapsing of the busy busy busy of his brain that plans and thinks and manipulates the world. He is a child and I can tell he is floating, unmoving, not wishing to break what ever this, the magic spell is upon this moment. It is not how he touches me, but how my touch is on him.

But the scent is there, that peculiar odor that is not an odor. That makes me feel light headed, as if I am breathing and the air is rushing up into my brain. I lay my lips and mouth on to him, never losing contact again. And the scent grows stronger, and becomes a kind of taste.

Even as torso swings between relaxed and released, I stop the smooth motions.

"You know what?"

His eyebrows raise and he almost manages to open his mouth and say something.

"I want you in me."

Perhaps more prelude would make it easier, but I am ready enough, open enough to push my weight straight down on him, my hand guiding him to the right spot, and simply bounce up and down. Yes there is a tightness and first, and a pinching as his tip presses, through, and I have to wiggle up and down to ease the catches of tightness. Yes there is a slight chafing. But while nose winces for a moment, that is all it is. Like a needle sliding in, there is a contraction, and then a giddy dizziness in the stomach, but then it is done.

And then there it is, that lovely rolling sensation upwards. That contraction that starts in the deep muscles below the hips, that races upwards, pulls in through abdomen and flowers in the chest. When I inhale, there is a purring electric motor inside me, in my core.

Mmmmm.

It takes only a few moments before he spasms and contracts. I settle myself over his chest easily and twirl my fingers through his hair. My skin is warm, cooled by the dry hotel air, my face is bright, and I know I can't stop smiling as I stare at his profile, his sharp nose, his warm lips, his strong bones.

Moments later, he is asleep, his features untroubled by these shadowed days. I smile and smile until I, too, drop to a short kiss of sleep.

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Late Nite FDL: Unknown Soldiers

post from Firedoglake on 22 August 2007 11:18:24 PM. © Firedoglake

And so Ari Fleischer and some other well-financed NeoCon fellow travelers have come galloping over the hill with “Freedom’s Watch” (which I originally read as “Freedom Swatch” and immediately thought, “Ooh! I want[...]

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Candice Jarrett: Danny Boy

post from My Left Wing - Front Page on 22 August 2007 11:16:36 PM. © My Left Wing - Front Page

video details and more

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Brazilian Music - The Jazzier Side

post from Ezra Klein on 22 August 2007 11:13:00 PM. © Ezra Klein

Let's start with Hermeto Pascoal. Multinstrumentalist doesn't do him justice. Put him in the kitchen and he'll play your teakettle. Put him in your daughter's room and he'll make music from her dolls. Got some pvc pipe and cinderblocks? He's...[...]

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Late Night Music Club with James

post from Crooks and Liars on 22 August 2007 11:00:11 PM. © Crooks and Liars

In the early 80’s Morrissey turned my boss, Seymour Stein, on to this Manchester band who opened a U.K. tour for The Smiths. The band was called James and eventually Seymour signed them. I loved their songs and we tried and tried to break them but, as well as they did in England, we just [...]

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The Hate Vote

post from Connecting.the.Dots on 22 August 2007 10:51:00 PM. © Connecting.the.Dots

Old-fashioned American prejudice is alive and well, if today?s poll numbers can be believed.

Close to half of all voters are committed to rejecting Mitt Romney (44 percent) and Hillary Clinton (43 percent, 50 percent of men).

In Sen. Clinton?s case, it could be argued that at least some of the virulent opposition can be traced not to the fact that she is a woman but to 15 years of high public visibility. In Romney?s case, however, voters don?t know enough about him to account for such strong feelings except the fact that he is a Mormon.

If you asked these people about prejudice, undoubtedly most of them would strongly deny it. That?s old-fashioned American, too.

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Novak: Hastert to retire before end of term.

Last week, Rep. Dennis Hastert (R-IL) announced that he will not seek re-election in 2008. In his e-mail newsletter today, Robert Novak reported that Hastert won’t be finishing out his term and will retire on Nov. 6:

An Illinois Republican source tells us former Speaker J. Dennis Hastert (R-Ill.) plans to resign November 6 this year instead of finishing out his term. This would create a vacancy and trigger a special election in the 14th District.
Under Illinois statute, the governor, Rod Blagojevich (D), would get to pick the date of both of the special general election and the special primary election (with separate ballots for each party). The general election would have to be within 120 days of the vacancy (meaning by early March, if the November 6 resignation date holds). February 5 is the date for Illinois’s presidential and congressional primaries, and slating the special election — either the primaries or the general — on that date would save state money.

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The Surge is Not the Solution

The question is not whether the surge is "working" to prevent this IED or that car-bombing. It's not whether you can cherry-pick one area in which one kind of violence is down. What's needed is political change - in the US and in Iraq - and that has to be the question asked every time the word "surge" is used.

Chris Dodd gets that:

"Despite the exemplary performance of our troops, we are coming off the bloodiest summer of this misguided war and it should be clear that there can be no military solution in Iraq.

"It is useless to argue the merits of a specific tactic when the strategy itself is failed.

"In fact, debating over military tactics when there is no military solution only undermines efforts by those of us who believe that we must change course in Iraq now and begin to immediately redeploy US combat forces so that Iraqi leaders will have the impetus to find a political accord."

Barack Obama gets that:

The disastrous consequences described by President Bush are already in motion and are a direct result of a war that should never have been authorized. There is no military solution to Iraq's problems. The only way to reverse these consequences is to change course through a surge in our diplomatic and humanitarian efforts in Iraq and the region, and a phased withdrawal of our forces that puts real pressure on the Iraqi government to act.

(I like that "surge in our diplomatic and humanitarian efforts" line.)

From the Edwards campaign:

"Our military’s hard-won progress in Al-Anbar province should not distract us from the fact that pouring more military resources into Iraq is no substitute for the comprehensive national political solution that will ultimately resolve the situation in Iraq. President Bush’s failed strategy has led to increased terrorism in Iraq, as we saw with the bombing of the Iraqi Parliament months ago in the Green Zone and the recent horrendous bombings in northwest Iraq that killed over 250 people. And despite the surge, the Al-Maliki government is disintegrating before our eyes. Even worse, President Bush’s mistakes in Iraq have only helped make terrorism worse in the world. As the National Intelligence Estimate recently found, Al Qaeda is as strong now as it was before 9/11.

I looked for statements from the other candidates, but while most of them appear to have addressed Iraq in the past day or so, Dodd, Obama, and Edwards were the ones decisively making the point that the measure of success that matters is not military but political or diplomatic progress. That's a message we need to be hearing from every Democrat.

Update: Missed one from Hillary Clinton:

"During my last visit to Iraq in January, I expressed my reservations about the ability of the Iraqi government, led by Prime Minister Maliki, to make the tough political decisions necessary for Iraq to resolve its sectarian divisions. Since my visit, Iraqi leaders have not met their own political benchmarks to share power, modify the de-Ba'athification laws, pass an oil law, schedule provincial elections, and amend their constitution. During his trip to Iraq last week, Senator Carl Levin, the Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee on which I serve, confirmed that the Iraqi Government’s failures have reinforced the widely held view that the Maliki government is nonfunctional and cannot produce a political settlement, because it is too beholden to religious and sectarian leaders. I share Senator Levin’s hope that the Iraqi parliament will replace Prime Minister Maliki with a less divisive and more unifying figure when it returns in a few weeks.

As I have said many times before, there is not a military solution in Iraq but progress will only come from political reconciliation and compromise from the Iraqis themselves. Given that reality, the President’s escalation strategy is not succeeding.

Our military has performed magnificently in Iraq but ultimately the future of Iraq will be decided by the Iraqis themselves. Rather than continue an escalation policy that is not fostering political progress in Iraq, we need to send a message to Iraq's leaders that the lack of political progress is unacceptable. Our best hope of fostering political progress in Iraq is to begin the immediate withdrawal of U.S. troops."