DAYS OF THE NEOCON

Where to now, neocons? Neocons (RNC) are being assailed even by their own!- aka Newt Gingrich and John McCain (okay, so maybe John’s not a card-carrying member, but neither did he tell the RNC strategists to shut up when he should have). Both Newt and John had an epiphany of rational thought or, more likely, held up fingers to see which way the wind was blowing. Whatever, it’s too early for the Neocons to panic: No need just yet to throw Karl Rove into a Baghdad slum (Hold the thought, though).

Neocons need to remember their code of non-ethics and hope that the wretched education system keeps feeding them a steady supply to illiterate idiots. That’s not a very nice thing to say, I realize. Especially when I acknowledge that my biggest complaint against Neocons is that they never argue ideas – they simply disparage their opponents – and here I am doing the very same thing. I admit to lowering my standards – but it’s so much FUN and feels so GOOD! So sue me. Wait, I was only kidding.

Anyway, this is basically a positive article. I’m urging the Neocon movement to be true to its roots, even if these roots are tangled up in septic tanks and polluted aquifers. Remember the code!

THE NEO-CON CODE OF NON-ETHICS

1) You don’t have to be a genius to become a neo-con. (Matter of fact . . . .)

2) There is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, only ‘winners’ and ‘losers’.

3) Greed is NOT a four-letter word. Even a dog will overeat if given a chance. We want that chance.

4) If you really must go to college, major in business (maybe theology)

5) We believe in free markets. We believe in small government, especially for the small guy. We believe it for the big guy, too, of course, but sometimes the big guys (oil, mining, chemicals, manufacturing, finance, banking, and corporate farms) need a friendly boost, sometimes a friendly generous boost, especially when they fuck up.

6) We believe in the invisible hand of God in the marketplace, even if we can see He must have a really warped sense of humour. Still, it’s important to keep the fundamentalists in the fold (or ‘pack’, if you will).

7) If someone says something you disagree with, call him/her a ‘dirty commie traitor’, or ‘an un-American socialist’ and hint that you know someone in the FBI or RCMP.

8) The words, ‘commie’ and ‘socialist’, can be used indiscriminately but stay away from its close cousin ‘fascism’. This can be a sensitive area. It’s not important to know what any of those terms mean. They’re just labels, powerful labels, to be sure, and meant only to dismiss as un-American anything your opponent might have to say.

9) Be suspicious of science. What you don’t know CAN hurt you – maybe.

10) I Qf a God-fearing businessman or rancher insists that his/her welfare depends upon killing wildlife, uprooting forests, or polluting lakes and streams, back them up. Quite often, they know best, and arguing with them might well entail recruiting a scientist or two and that would never do.

11) Capital punishment isn’t perfect and accidents happen when everyone on the block owns an AK-47. But there’s much to be said about mistakes that can’t be corrected.

12) Above all, when a ‘little guy’ says ‘why can’t the government protect me and mine when we don’t have much money?’, take a moment, place a hand on each of his shoulders, look him square in the eye and, without laughing, say ‘The government is NOT your friend. Stick with us and WE’LL make you a ‘big guy’!’ As long as the education system stays as bad as it is, millions of ‘little guys’ will believe you. Trust in this.

11) Finally, it’s no sin not to listen. Except maybe to radio talk shows.

Soldier on, boys. Remember our motto: ‘When in doubt, shout!’

THE NATIVITY REVISITED

The nativity story is so familiar that most people could recite it by heart - or come up with a Sarah Palin-like facsimile in which you know what they're trying to say only it's coming out as gibberish. The basics - the inn, the stable, the shepherds - will be there even if the thread is hard to follow.

But one part of this story we've not heard. What about the people staying at the inn? Who took up all those rooms? And what did they do when all the excitement was going on?

Let's imagine the scene. The Bethlehem Inn, 4-star, 258 rooms, part of the posh Levant chain. The Inn is bursting at the seams with seasoned travellers, vacation-wise tourists who knew - as apparently Joseph did not - that planning ahead was probably a wise thing. I'd like to think the guests were much like hotel guests today - irritable, petulant, and demanding.

T: Hello, front desk? This is Teddy Needles in room 306. I want to know what's going on behind your inn.

FD: What do you mean, sir?

T: I mean, what the hell is that bright light? I turn off the lights in my room and it still looks like the top of Mount Sinai at noon at summer solstice.

FD: Sir, we are unaware of any bright light. Perhaps someone left their camel lights on. Or maybe it's the moon.

T: Bushwa. I'm on the 3rd floor so it'd have to be one humungous camel and unless the moon moved fifty leagues closer, I'm not buying that argument. This is one bright light. It makes Moses' burning bush look like an Nero's nose.

FD: So, you're sure. Not the moon.

T: Are you questioning my eyesight? Why don't you get off your keester and go have a look?

FD: We're very busy, sir. As you know, there's a census going on and people are counting on us - uh, or is it the other way round? Little front desk humor there, sir.

T: You're a riot, Alice. Look, I made this reservation many moons ago. Three moons, to be exact and -

FD: Don't you wish we had a better way of marking time? Kinda makes you wish someone would come along who's so important
that we'd tell time in relation to his life.

T: Huh?

FD: You know what I mean. We could call the time before him - or
or her - say, Before Sid. You could pick any year and call
it, maybe, 45 B.S., Before Sid. And the time after as After
Sid. 45 A.S. It would make things easier. All this moon
stuff is confusing.

T: If B.S. is Before Sid and A.S. is After Sid, whatya call the
time when Sid is alive?

FD: (pausing) Where'd you say that light was?

T: Back by the stable. Go take a look and call me back. (hangs
up)


**********************



(The phone rings. Teddy picks it up.)


FD: Hello, Mr. Needles? This is the front desk. We checked out
that bright light and -

T: Yeah, and what?

FD: Well, it's rather hard to explain, sir, but it looks like a big
star, a really big star in the eastern sky. And it seems to be
shining right down on the stable. Go figure.

T: So what are you going to do about it?

FD: Well, I don't think there's a lot we CAN do about it. I mean,
it's a STAR, way up in the sky and all and -

T: Please don't tell me just to close my blinds and crawl under
the bed. It's just one bloody inconvenience after another
with you people. I swear this is -

FD: We could perhaps talk to the people in the stable. We've got
a young couple bunking in with the sheep and the cows and -

T: I don't believe this. You rented out your barn?

FD: (coolly) Not exactly, sir. The couple insisted. We gave them the room, uh, the stall, uh, actually, it's a manger. The lady
is very much in a family way and they really needed a place to
crash. We're totally booked, as you may know. So they took
the stable.

T: Great Swarming Sandflies? You stuck a pregnant woman in your
stable? A barn? I'm nominating you for hospitality executive of the year.

FD: (Indignantly) EXCUSE ME, sir. The couple is poor and
desperately needed a place to stay. It was the BEST we could
do. It's not like I could take them home and put them up in
the majlis now, is it?

T: Well, I guess you'll have to answer that one, won't you, Mr.
Charity?

FD: No need for sarcasm, sir.

T: Hey, hold on a minute. There's a commotion out there by the
stable. Let me take a look.

T: (returning to the phone) You didn't tell me your young couple
were throwing a party back there.

FD: Whatever do you mean?

T: I mean, there's three grubby guys carrying long sticks poking
their noses into the stable. They look like bloomin' shepherds.

FD: Shepherds? Shepherds don't stay at the Bethlehem Inn. They
couldn't afford it, for one thing.

T: Well, maybe they made a killing on mutton futures. Sure you
don't want to rent them another stall in your barn?

FD: (angrily) I don't have time for this banter, sir. If there's
anything else we CAN do for you, let us know. (hangs up)

T. (yelling into the dead line) Yeah, sure. That's just dandy.
Leave me with the giant star, a mother-to-be and three shepherds. Should be a smashing night's sleep.


*******************


T: Hey, front desk. It's me again.

FD: Mr. Needles. (dryly) How nice to hear your voice. It must
have been all of an hour since we talked last. What can we do
for you?

T: Cut the crap. Wanna know what's going on now?

FD: I have the feeling you're going to tell me.

T: THERE'S SINGING! SINGING! A whole passel of people are out
there singing. A garish light, three lurking shepherds, and
now, singing. How am I supposed to get any sleep? Here,
listen. (He holds up the phone and a chorus is singing
'Hallelujah')

FD: Yes, I can hear it. Is it those shepherds? Because IF it is -

T: It's not the shepherds. It sounds like the entire Roman
Tabernacle Choir - and they're levitating, for Jupiter's sake.

FD: What does levitating mean? Are you SURE it isn't those
shepherds?

T: Hades no. As near as I can tell, the shepherds are on their
knees, like someone was about to lop their heads off. Does
the Praetorian Guard sing?

FD: What are they singing?

T: I can't tell. Sounds like Hall of Lulu or something like that.
Is there a bar nearby called Lulu's? Is it some kind of
promotion? For sure, there's a bunch of 'em singing. They
aren't bad, either - just loud.

FD: Have you by any chance been into the mead, Mr. Needles?

T: Go to hell.

FD: Go to hell? What is that exactly?

T: Actually, I'm not sure. All I know is it isn't good for you.
I was down to the river the other day and there was this wild
lookin' guy - I think his name was John - and he was soaking
people's heads in the river. All the while, he's muttering
something about 'if you don't do this, you're gonna go to hell.
I figure if hell is a place worse than getting your head dunked
in the mucky Jordan then it's gotta be bad. That river is just
one long camel outhouse, if you ask me.

FD: Excuse me, Mr. Needles. I have a call on the other line. Can
I call you back?

T: Sure, and get someone to stifle that choir while you're at it.
(hangs up)


******************

(FD phones back)

FD: Everything okay there, Mr. Needles? That mead'll do strange
stuff sometimes, I know.

T: I haven't been drinking, you dolt! You should see it out there
now. Those shepherds are talking to three weird-lookin' dudes
riding camels. Rich dudes, by the looks of 'em. And not from
hereabouts, neither. Hang on, the shepherds are telling them
something (pauses).

T: Hey, the lady had her baby! The shepherds are telling the
three swells that the baby's dressed in swaddling clothes.
Swaddling clothes? What's swaddling clothes?

FD: How would I know? Maybe the kid is fat and they meant waddling
clothes.

T: Now the three swells are each holding out something - looks
like gifts. Jumpin' Sand Lizards! That one gift looks like
a huge chunk of gold! Merciful Minerva! I never saw anything
that big!

FD: Gold, huh? Maybe I should free up our penthouse suite . . .
make up for sticking them in the barn.

T: You're hopeless. There's something really strange goin' on
down there. Some of those singers are wearing wings. What
the hades is all that about?

FD: You swore you hadn't been drinking, Mr. Needles . . .

T: This is all getting too bizarre. Everyone down there is
singing and smiling. A night in a barn and having a baby -
not my idea of a singing-smiling situation. I wish I knew
what Hall of Lulu meant.

FD: Mr. Needles? Sir? I really need to get back to work. You
don't seem as upset now and . . .

T: Okay, front desk. I think I might just slip down there and
join the fun. So much for a silent night.

DRIVELERATA

• I complained when I had no shoes. Then I met a man who had no cell phone.

• The more you know a person the less likely you are to look unkindly on their choice of toques.

• You are what you eat. Unless, of course, what you eat contains MSG. Then you are slowly becoming someone else. Who, is anyone's guess, but hope it isn't Sarah Palin.

• Wisdom is much like eating salted peanuts. The more you have the more you have the urge to drink liquids that aren't good for you.

• You can lead a horse to water but you can't put a fish in a barn.

• The meek shall inherit the earth. My guess is they'll stop being meek then. So you have to wonder . . . . are they just being meek while waiting for the big payoff?

• Time and fortune wait for no man. Or is it 'Newman'? If it is, you might want to change your name.

• Avoid vexatious people. Who's kidding whom? They're everywhere, especially you.

• If life serves you lemons, make lemonade. If life serves you a summons, make yourself scarce.

• If your best friend runs off with your wife, congratulate him for taking up jogging.

• The most important thing in life is balance. The second most important thing is overdraft protection.

• If you can't count on your friends, count on your fingers.

• With age comes wisdom. That doesn't mean ALL children are stupid. Just many of them. Maybe everybody's but yours.

• I've seen clouds from both sides now. It's a LOT cheaper from the ground.

• From adversity we gain strength. From advertising we gain useless objects.

• I dreamed they held a war and nobody came. Fox news said they could fix that.

• One is the loneliest number. Two is company. Three is a crowd. Four is something we don't talk about in polite society. Five means there's probably a cameraman.

• Better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. It's okay to curse dripping wax any time.

• I don't believe educated fleas can fall in love. They'll jump at the chance to do most anything but not that. On the other hand, they WILL join service clubs.

• If life is a river, bullshit and bad luck are tributaries.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away; but mostly He just taketh away.

HUMAN SURVIVAL

An Australian professor of reproductive endriconology has predicted the end of the human race. Environmental degradation is the putative culprit - toxins entering the reproductive system and being passed on from father to son (like prejudices, only worse). Eventually, he claims, our sperm count will dwindle to zero and we'll become, albeit briefly, a race of two-legged geldings.

Personally, I see this as a 'good news', 'bad news' story.

Let's begin with the 'bad news'. The good professor was careful to point out that all this wouldn't happen for a couple of million years but what does he REALLY know? We thought Celine Dion would disappear from popmusic radar screens years ago. We're not good predictors, is what I'm saying. If we were, wouldn't we have bailed on Wall Street back in the fall of '07?

The scientist SAYS a couple of million years but it could be just around the coroner, as it were. And I see that as a problem. Speaking personally - as you see I am - I had planned (or imagined) my name living on through my offspring. I don't mean literally - 'Bob' is a name that could easily be considered a candidate for extinction - but the IDEA of me. What my family and friends and associates think of me and who I am. The legacy of me, if you will.

But now that I am older, I can safely conclude my name will NOT live in perpetuity, especially if the matter were left up to my friends and associates. It's not that I am actively disliked or thought to be a complete dipshit. It's that I am simply not all that special. My friends and associates have limited time and resources to devote to perpetuating the memory of people they know and I suspect I'm not that high on anyone's list. So say we all, hmmm?

Anyway, the point is that if I am going to live on in memory, it's either going to be through my family or an indestructible videotape. The latter is, however, an oxymoron - videotapes EXIST only to be destroyed. Some more than others - your cousin's wedding for example. People of taste the world over now realize that videotapes are a blight on the countryside, a metaphorical half-chewed leg of mutton in the fruit bowl of life. Besides, I couldn't afford to hire Brad Pitt to play me when I was thirty. Not to mention the dozens of actresses needed to play, uh, supporting roles.

That leaves me with my children - and their children. I know this and have extracted promises from them all to build campfires often and use the evocative atmosphere to extol my accomplishments in life and the profound effect I have had on their lives, all slightly embellished, of course, but no more than I and my publicist think reasonable.

So I have a chance here. But what if they have no children? What then? Will I be forced to write an autobiography and hope for some literary sleuth to 'discover' a moldering literary masterpiece? Long, long odds. Not to mention the possibility there'd be no one around to read it.

So you can see that the bad news about gene deterioration hasn't given me much hope, vis-a-vis, living on after death.

But the GOOD news! It's no secret the human gene pool has been deteriorating on several fronts and the prospect of certain demises may, I suggest, be a cause for celebration.

At one time, the human race could be divided into two camps - civilized and not. If you were civilized, it was your job to stand guard over the uncivilized, keep them from hurting themselves even if that occasionally meant separating their heads from their bodies or lashing their limbs to horses. This was a small price to pay for keeping order. Basically, you were either a person of taste and discernment or you were an untutored swine who ate with his thumbs and smelled like a tailing pond. No one needed a program to tell what side of the civilized fence a person was on. It was as plain as the beauty mark or hairy mole on one's face.

But then mankind discovered democracy. It's hard to criticize democracy. One negative word and the booboisie dredge up that facile comment attributed to Winston Churchill - 'Democracy is a terrible form of government - until you compare it to the rest!' Ho, ho, ho. How droll, Winnie. The fact is, it IS a terrible form of government, one honored more in the breach than the practice, and its practice has led to a number of adverse side effects to the art of living.

Over the past two hundred or so years, we have seen the emergence and continued existence (as opposed to evolution) of several mutated versions of the species homo sapiens.

1) Politicians - (apologies to Barack Obama. Its early and it would be nice ot have him prove me wrong) everyone's favorite whipping boys (Along with lawyers, which is fine, since they're usually one and the same) They are the ones who stand up tallest for democracy because they're the ones who benefit the most. Where else can you get a job where, after you've got it,no one much cares what you do?

Getting close to a politician can be hazardous to one's health. We've all seen those wildlife shows in which an intrepid camera man sneaks up on a Komodo dragon. Speaking in a whisper, the narrator tells us the dragon smells really bad and has the worst breath since Neanderthal man gave up eating raw polecats. 'AND,' he adds, 'HE WILL EAT ANYTHING! MY LIFE IS IN DANGER!' That's how I feel when I get close to a politician. My life is in danger. Think what he does for a living - he tries to convince people he's their friend and then tries to steal all their money. AND he has the government on his side! The politician has not been a happy evolutionary development.

2) Anyone Connected With Television - when Newton Minow declared fifty years ago that television was becoming a 'vast wasteland', it took only a few short years before the statement leaped from its status as an 'Overstatement' to one of a huge 'Understatement'. Television today is so pervasive and so wretched that no one even criticizes it any more. The whole industry has become a sumphole of cynical crapola, recycled pap, feckless management, dishonest outlaws, and warped personalities. And, because it comes into the home as an invited guest, it is treated with an unwarranted degree of respect. The truth is it's a bit like inviting an abusive parent into the home - poisoning minds, withering curiosity, and numbing the viewer against any ability to discriminate or exercise abstract thought. Its practitioners ought to be ashamed and if their limb on the human tree were to shrivel and die, the loss would rate no more than four lines in USA Today, which, come to think of it, might well disappear with it.

3) Business Gurus - what a pinhead group this is. If life is a four-lane highway, these morons walk a tightrope. They obsess over the notion there are one or two miraculous revelations waiting to deliver fortune and fame. These gurus sometimes achieve success simply because too many people listen to them and for reasons only superficially apparent. But the fact is, they are life-nibblers, little brains that have reduced the pursuit of happiness to a vague hunt for money. The good news is they may devolve on their own, the majority being too preoccupied to procreate. One of them would actually have us believe financial and career success is a function of dressing well. The irony is that this may actually be true, which makes it only more pathetic.

4) Miscellaneous - rude people, 'Friends' fans, tailgaters, and football players who mug for the camera.

Well, there you have it. That's the GOOD side of the story. Still, maybe we should hope the three million year figure is correct and let the sperm count fall where it may.

RAD