Tough times continue, and the county where I live is trying to plug a potential $50 million budget deficit brought on by falling sales tax revenue. Of course, one tried and true method is to balance the budget on the backs of public workers. Everybody hates public workers, so they’re an easy target. They’re lazy, slovenly, sloth like, and, even worse, they’re unionized. :omg:

Our Republican County Executive (who followed in her father’s footsteps by repeatedly running for mayor and losing, finally managed to win a close race to become only our third County Executive – an office never held by a Democrat; the first two were in office for a combined 45 years – when the former exec finally retired) has issued an ultimatum to the County’s union members: give up the contract raises due to you in 2010 that were negotiated in good faith, or get 9 weeks of unpaid leave (plus she wants them to pay more for the health insurance, which is the other way they always try to screw the workers; good thing we don’t have a single payer system) . Hey, I’ve got an idea: let’s furlough the snowplow drivers from January until March. Think anybody will miss them?

This doesn’t really seem equivalent to me, since 9 weeks out of 52 is over 17% annual pay lost. I’m not familiar with the contract, but I’d be surprised if the raises were more than 3%, so it seems like 8 unpaid days off would be more like it. But, of course, the point isn’t really to save money, as much as it is to set a precedent for the county reneging on the contract every time the financial winds blow the wrong way. Governor Blinky tried the same shit with the State unions. It would make contract negotiations a joke, and it’s not like when times are good (assuming times will ever be good again) the union can come to the County mid-contract and demand a raise.

In more shocking news, it appears that the Democrats may have finally figure out that they control the House, Senate, and White House, and may actually be ready to leave the obstructionist Republicans behind in passing health care reform. Unions threatening to withhold support in the midterm elections really seems to have rallied the House Democrats. Now it’s time to start putting the screws to the Senate DINOs now, as they seem to be the real problem (and of course the President, who apparently needs to be shamed into bringing his actions in line with his pre-election rhetoric).

In the meantime, there’s always Barney.

Looks like Scottish officials are getting ready to release Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi. He’s the Libyan convicted in the bombing of Pan Am Flight 103, which was blown out of the sky over Lockerbie, Scotland back in December of 1988. This is a big story here, of course, because 35 Syracuse students were among the 270 people who were killed – 259 aboard the flight, and 11 residents of the town of Lockerbie. It’s also of interest to me, because I did the private website set up for the victims’ families with a grant from the US Department of Justice’s Office for Victims of Crimes.

Among other things, I posted a daily transcript of the trial, along with a summary of the day’s events written by law students and faculty. So, I followed the trial pretty closely (as I recall, the first day of testimony was devoted to residents of Lockerbie describing the pieces of the Boeing 747 and human remains that rained fiery death upon their little town (the bomb – a rather aptly named Toshiba “BomBeat” radio cassette player packed with Semtex – was actually intended to go off over the Atlantic, which would have made forensics impossible). Since it came crashing down on land instead, they were able to painstakingly recreate the fuselage and determine the exact location of the bomb, and what it was made from. Quite interesting, really.

I was actually somewhat surprised they got a conviction in the case (the co-defendant – Al Amin Fhima – was found not guilty), because much of the evidence of the defendants’ involvement in the loading of the bomb in the luggage at Frankfurt seemed a bit sketchy to me (there are those who believe these two people were just set up to take the fall so that Libya could get UN and US sanctions lifted), and we were warned that the standards for conviction would probably be higher, given that the trial – which took place at the former US Air Force base at Kamp Zeist in The Netherlands – wasn’t before a jury, but was heard by a panel of judges from the Scottish High Court of Justiciary (with the wigs and the fancy-schmancy red robes and everything), who – in theory – would not be swayed by emotions.

As for whether al-Megrahi should be released or not (he’s dying of cancer, and wants to die in Libya), I’m of mixed thought. On one hand, there’s a scarcity of mercy and compassion in this world, and we could use a little more of it. On the other, a lot of people lost family members – many of them college kids returning from a semester studying abroad, with their whole lives ahead of them – four days before Christmas, and I can understand why they’d like to see him die in his Scottish prison cell.

Throughout the lengthy trial (the trial opened on May 3, 2000 and the verdict was rendered on January 31, 2001) and appeal process, I had a lot of contact with the DOJ, US Department of State, and the Scottish Crown Office (got a nice lead crystal representation of the memorial set up in the Garden of Remembrance in Lockerbie, etched with the DOJ seal and thanking me for my hard work, plus a letter from the OVC Director, expressing his thanks). I used to get calls at home from the DOJ, Dept of State (had to post messages from Colin Powell a few times, and help coordinate a live stream of a meeting with families in DC – back in 2000 or so, when that was a lot less common), and even from the UN, when Kofi Annan wanted the families to hear about something – the dropping of sanctions against Libya, IIRC – before it was released to the rest of the world. I also worked with the Tech guy at the US Embassy at the Hague, and set up an FTP process with the Crown office so I could get the transcripts sent to my office computer directly (e-mail was unreliable, for some reason). When the trial was over, I produced a CD with the website content and additional material (got to do the artwork, design the front, back, and inside covers and CD label – it was fun) that was distributed to all the family members. Still have a bunch of them, shrink wrapped and unopened. I loved speaking with the Scots on the phone, though it was hard to keep myself from breaking into a fake Scottish accent.

Speaking of Scots, don’t you wish Angus MacFarquhar was around to cover these town hall meetings? I can hear him now, imploring the bloody wankers to kick him in the man sack. Maybe we should write to Kent Jones, and see if he can get Angus to do a field report for the Maddow show. Love to see him on the Press the Meat roundtable, too. I’d love to hear Gilligan Gregory try to put Angus on stifle. “Who’s gonna make me? You and what Dick Army, you wanker!”

We had a Bassmasters fishing tournament here this weekend (believe it or not, the winner got $100,000 – who knew?), which fit right in with weekend national politics. Like a fish tossed on the deck, the Obama administration flopped and flailed, gasping for air as it tried to figure out how to cave in to Republicans, Blue Dogs, and the insurance industry (more than they’ve already caved) while still declaring victory.

On Saturday, the President – who once said we’d get Single Payer health care, but we had to take back the House, Senate, and White House first – told a town hall meeting:

“All I’m saying is, though, that the public option, whether we have it or we don’t have it, is not the entirety of health care reform.

On Sunday, HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebelius said, “eh, public option, public schmoption; we don’t need no steenking public option.” But also on Sunday, press secretary Robert Gibbs, on Faze the Nation, said Obama still supports a “public option.” Not exactly a bold statement. Now, something like, “the President will veto any legislation that doesn’t include a non-crippled public option,” that would be bold (how about something even bolder, like “we’ll veto anything that preserves the corrupt, for-profit medical-insurance-pharmaceutical industrial complex, and will settle for nothing short of universal single payer health care for all) .

The rest of the day, various administration lackeys were trotted out to basically say the same thing, “yes, we’re ready to cave in, but Sebelius wasn’t supposed to come out and say it.”

I knew Obama wasn’t a progressive, but I didn’t think he was a coward, and he’s certainly acting in a cowardly way on health care. Or maybe he thought if played nice, the Republicans would play nice, too. If that’s the case, then he’s not as smart as I thought he was. What we need here is an LBJ type that can twist arms, bribe, threaten, and do whatever it takes to ram his legislation through a Democratically controlled Congress.

What we appear to have, unfortunately, is Neville Chamberlain.

We went from “yes we can,” to “maybe we can,” to “oh, c’mon guys, pleeeeze?”

And for all your political backpedaling and appeasement, the Republicans aren’t being any nicer to you, are they, Mr. President? They’ve been playing you like a 15 pound bass on a 10 pound line*. Once you’re finally exhausted, they’ll pull what’s left of your limp presidency out of the water, and toss it on the deck, gasping for political life. Then you’ll wish you really were from Kenya.

Maybe you need to go out and invade something (just make it some place easy, like Grenada).

*Note, I don’t actually know anything about fishing, so that may not make any sense.

Pretty beat today, so I’ll be doing a lot of the old Ctrl+C and Ctrl+V.

On Press the Meat, Fmr. House Majority Leader Rep. Dick Armey (R-TX), now the head of FreedomWorks, an organizer of the gibbering gibbons at town hall meetings; Sen. Tom Coburn, M.D. (R-OK), Member of the Committee on Health, Education, Labor and Pensions; Fmr. Senate Majority Leader Tom Daschle (D-SD), author of “Critical: What We Can Do About the Health Care Crisis”; & Rachel Maddow plus Rep. Charlie Rangel (D-NY); Bruce Josten, Executive Vice President of the Chamber of Commerce; and Gov. Bill Ritter (D-CO).

Faze the Nation has Robert Gibbs, White House Press Secretary, Former Sen. Chuck Hagel, Former Rep. Lee Hamilton, and Douglas Brinkley, presidential historian.

On Fux News Sunday, Weaselface Wallace has Sen. Kent Conrad, D-N.D.; Sen. Richard Shelby, R-Ala.; J. James Rohack, M.D., president of the American Medical Association, and John Rother, AARP executive vice president for policy and strategy. Plus the fuxheads of course.

At the Goebbels network Jake Tapper is in for George Snufalufagus, and hosts Health and Human Services Secretary Kathleen Sebelius, Arlen Specter, and Orrin Hatch. Plus a roundtable with Ed Gillespie, former White House Counselor to President Bush, Democratic strategist and ABC contributor Donna Brazile, Ron Brownstein of the National Journal and the Washington Post’s Anne Kornblut.

At CNN Fareed Zakaria ha the first television interview with Michael Oren as Israel’s new Ambassador to the United States, and the Prime Minister of Kenya.

OK, back to the kitchen.

President Obama doesn’t seem to be facing the angry mobs at his town hall meetings. This, according to the Washington Post is mighty bad news – for Obama. I’m sure that if he was being screamed at by the raving lunatics, that would be equally bad news for him. This is what we call “balance.”

Lanny Davis (sounds like a golfer’s name, doesn’t it?) says everybody should stop being so mean to Whole Foods. Geez, Lanny, it was only one post.

Last night, Bill Maher said that, because of all the energy and carbon emissions from raising livestock, it was more ecologically friendly to eat a salad in a Hummer, than a cheeseburger in a Prius. I’d say it’s even better to get a hummer in a golf cart.

Well, I better get myself motivated to attack the kitchen.

Yesterday, we brought you the story of a shameless woman who, when accused by Five-0 of talking on a cell phone, had the audacity of saying, “no I di-int,” and was promptly tasered (and will be live on the Today Show this morning; amazing what you gotta do to get on the teevee, but I reckon getting zapped with a taser is easier than giving birth to octuplets).

Today, it’s the story of a man released from prison after a mere 3 weeks for daring to yawn in court (it was apparently a very loud yawn). What’s next? Possibly a requirement to turn yourself in to the authorities for improper thought (we’ll have to rely on self-reporting, at least until they develop a thoughtometer that will alert the police when you’re thinking something you shouldn’t be – maybe light up a giant red “A” on your forehead – for “asshole,” not “adultery” – or something). One thing that remains legal, though, is shooting black guys (assuming you’re a white police officer, anyway) – even if that black guy turns out to be an off-duty cop.

Speaking of adultery, looks like John Edwards is getting ready to admit that he’s Rielle Hunter’s baby daddy. Why do I care? I don’t know, but it’s apparently almost as important as Michelle Obama’s red dress. As an aside, wouldn’t you just love to see her smack that Stepford Wife look off Pickles’ puss (I mean, not really, but kinda sorta)?

Turning to the world of assholery, who’s the bigger asshole? Michael Vick, or whoever it was in the Philadelphia Eagles’ organization that decided it would be OK to sign him? Tough call there, but I reckon I’ll go with Vick. Don’t give me that culture of the South or whatever bullshit; I’m not buying it. I’m as much a bleeding heart liberal as the next guy, but certain things I just can’t get past, and hurting kids or animals is right at the top of the list.

But, hey, whatever. At least it’s finally frackin’ Friday.

We don’t have a Whole Foods around here (frankly, I think they’d have a hard time competing with Wegmans, which might be a lot less trendy, but has better prices, makes a point of selling locally grown food, has a wide variety of organic food – also local – a nice touchy-feely earth muffin section, and, most importantly, an excellent beer selection), but if we did, I’d certainly boycott them (though I’d feel bad about the potential impact on Andy’s job). I’ve long thought that Whole Foods was a scam, and the fact that their CEO is anti-union, opposes public health care, is calling for less regulation of the insurance industry and the downsizing of Medicare…. Well, it just plain pisses me off (especially in light of the fact that Wal-Mart, of all places, actually came out in favor of a public health care option though I’m sure they see it as a cost-savings for them, since they’ve been known to advise their underpaid employees on how to get the most out of public assistance programs).

If I was an upscale, latte-drinking, Volvo-driving liberal, I sure as hell wouldn’t give Whole Foods a dime of my money. If you want to screw the people, at least don’t tell everybody about it in a WSJ op-ed, fer chrissakes. Not if you want to cater to the wannabe-hippy types.

And I’ll be writing to Emeril, too, demanding that he no longer do his “Emeril Green” show from Whole Foods. Bam!

When I was a kid, we’d go “downtown” (to the extent that there was a downtown here; Manhattan, we’re not) quite a bit . Back then our downtown thrived – this was before suburban shopping malls, and if you wanted to go shopping, you hopped a downtown bus. The sidewalks and stores were filled with people, and it was fun – riding the bus, seeing lots of people, and maybe getting a milk shake at the soda shop. Now, sadly, there’s not much of anything down there besides half-full (who says I’m not an optimist) office buildings, buses filled with bored-looking people passing through on their way to somewhere else, a few panhandlers, some homeless people (if you know where to look; they like to keep them out of sight), and urban tumbleweeds (aka, garbage) blowing down the lonely, empty streets.

A few times a year, we’d go down to see the Shriner’s circus or the Ice Follies (I remember seeing Peggy Fleming when I was eight or nine or something, right after she won a gold medal in the Olympics; I remember her looking absolutely beautiful) or whatever, and when my brother wasn’t busy defending democracy in Southeast Asia, he’d take me to see our semi-pro hockey team, the Blazers. These events were held at the War Memorial Auditorium, where a once proud original NBA team played and won an NBA championship, before moving on to Philadelphia. If you’ve seen the movie “Slapshot” with Paul Newman, then you’ve seen our War Memorial, ‘cuz that’s where a lot of the hockey scenes were shot.

On almost every corner, you’d see people around on the streets selling balloons (the balloons inside of balloons always intrigued me) or monkeys on sticks, or some other useless crap that kids just had to have only to pop, break, or abandon within 24 hours, plus popcorn, newspapers – your basic street vendor shit. These street vendors were typically – and forgive me if this is insensitive; I mean no disrespect – dwarfs or amputees, or otherwise handicapped physically or mentally (I remember one little person who had no legs, and got around on what looked like the side of a wooden crate with roller skate wheels attached to it. He wore fingerless leather gloves, and pushed himself around a lot faster than I’ll ever move). This is where the people who fell through the cracks landed, and that’s how they made whatever meager living they could eke out.

I don’t know if those folks are still around or not (don’t get downtown much these days; the lunchtime hot dog vendor business is pretty hot, I guess, for the folks who work down there, but by five o’clock everything’s deserted except for shadowy figures in hooded sweatshirts lurking around unlit, abandoned storefronts), but if they are, I’m sure times are tougher than ever for them. I don’t think the market for worthless crap is what it used to be – unless it’s painted white, beeps, and is called iCrap or something.

It would be nice if we lived in a society where those who fall through the cracks get some help (oh, I know, there are a lot of folks – public and private – out there trying, but the cracks are getting wider, and the help is getting harder to proivide). Health care (mental and physical) for everybody would be a good start. But, that’s been effectively quashed. Clinton couldn’t do it back in ’93 or whenever that was, and Obama isn’t able (or willing) to do it now. The insurance industry and our “representatives” in government have seen to that (with a lot of help from their brainless zombie army and their friends in the media; the story isn’t about whether public health care is good or bad – or what could make it better or worse – it’s that a bunch of ignorant buffoons are screaming out their gibberish, acting like petulant little children). The congress critters that aren’t on the insurance industry’s payroll are too spineless (with a couple of notable exceptions, of course) to stand up and do what’s right. They compromised their way out of true reform even before the process started.

Oh, something will pass. The insurance industry will make out great, and maybe that’ll lift the stock market. That won’t do much for the folks out there on the streets trying to make enough money to survive, of course. And when they get sick and die, well, maybe they’ll get a mention in the paper (but who reads papers these days?), maybe not. Many of them will wind up hanging in the anatomy cooler, unwittingly donating their bodies to science by virtue of the fact that they died unnoticed and unclaimed (bet you didn’t know that’s where most of the med school cadavers come from, did ya).

Granny will keep trying to find a few blankets to discharge indigent folks from the hospital with more than hospital gowns next winter. Others will go home (or back to the shelter) without their meds because they lack the medicare/medicaid required co-pay. And every day, another one or two of us “regular” people will join them out on the streets, for the crime of being uninsured (or claims denied and upaid; thank goodness health care isn’t rationed) and sick. Lose your health, your job, your house, your dignity, your life; it’s all OK, as long as insurance companies make a profit.

Hopefully it won’t be me. My life is pretty darn good, and that seems to be the yardstick by which my father-in-law measures things. Times are good for me, I’ve got plenty, so everybody else must, too. If not, they just aren’t working hard enough – after all, I made it through the war, and we came to this country with nothing – and we did it legally, too, goddamn it, not like these illegals that are everywhere, sucking up welfare and taking all the good jobs cleaning motel rooms and picking lettuce.

So, I got mine, and the hell with the rest of you. As long as it stays that way, and I don’t get laid off or sick or hit by a bus full of bored people passing through on their way to somewhere else.

Might wanna to stock up on balloons and monkeys on sticks, though, just in case.

Yesterday was hot, humid, and miserable. At least until what looked like a hurricane blasted through. Then it was warm, humid, and miserable. Back to work today for a day of rest, which is a good thing, since everything hurts and I feel lousy. I hate doing plumbing. If things get much worse, I’ll be facing one of Obama’s death panels soon, to decide how I want to die. I’m kind of up in the air about that, but I’m pretty sure it involves lots of pot.

Speaking of death panels and whatnot, did you know that, according to this editorial in Investor’s Business Daily,

“People such as scientist Stephen Hawking wouldn’t have a chance in the U.K., where the National Health Service would say the life of this brilliant man, because of his physical handicaps, is essentially worthless,”

Um. Only one problem there. Stephen Hawking was born in the UK and has lived there for 67 years. Way longer than what anybody thought he would, and probably a lot longer that he would have here, and, even if he’d survived here, no doubt his insurance lifetime max would’ve been maxed out decades ago, and he’d have gone bankrupt and been consigned to some crappy rattrap nursing home, stuffed in a corner like a potted plant, waiting for the end.

Maria’s mom, Eunice, has passed away. She seems to have been pretty well liked, despite the fact that she supported Ahnuld’s run for Governator, was an abortion opponent (Catholic and all), and her work on behalf of the mentally disabled helped pave the way for the second Bush Administration.

Aw, bless poor dubya. Lazy, shiftless people such as he wouldn’t have had a chance in the US, if he hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in his mouth (and another up his nose).

I’m taking a rare day off today, not to recreate and have a good time (heaven forbid), but to attempt to recover from my weekend labor, and perhaps accomplish a few more things before abandoning the world of manual labor and returning to sitting on my ass in front of a computer for a few days.

Things aren’t even close to finished, of course (it would go a lot faster if I knew what I was doing, but I’ve never let that stop me before – it’s how I’ve gotten every job I’ve ever had. They ask if I can do something, I say “sure, no problem,” and then I have to try and figure out how the hell to do it), but it’s starting to look like a kitchen again, at least.

Well, depending on which direction you look, I guess. We’re a bit disheveled and nonplussed – especially the dogs, who aren’t happy with the noise and the change in routine (the cats, of course, remain unconcerned).

I get a bit irritated and frustrated, myself. But I try to do what I can, and remember the words of Neil Young:

“A little love and affection in everything you do, will make the world a better place – either with or without you.”

Like grandpa, I won’t retire – but I might retread.