leftovers, still good for eating

I blogged this elsewhere a couple of days ago after the end of the Democratic National Convention. Because it's important, I thought I'd repost here.

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I don't know if you guys have caught any of the DNC on C-SPAN the last couple nights, but I just had a few thoughts after tonight. Mostly, I wanted to catch Dennis Kucinich, but I missed his speech (sorry Jake). Tonight though, I watched a speech by former Senator Max Cleland, who introduced Kerry at the convention. Any other campaign, and I wouldn't know this name. But I've been reading a lot about this presidential race, and the last one, and the name Max Cleland has come up quite a bit.

Cleland was a Senator from Georgia, who served until 2003. He fought in Vietnam, losing his right arm and both his legs. It was because of his service in Vietnam that he was elected as a Democrat to the Senate in a conservative state like Georgia (Bush crushed Gore in 2000 there, 55% to 43%). Cleland co-sponsored Homeland Security legislation after 9/11 with Joe Lieberman. But he voted against President Bush's own Homeland Security bill, because he thought the bill he created was better (it had something to do with Bush's version not guaranteeing Homeland Security employees with civil service protection, such as the ability to bargain collectively under a union).

When he ran for re-election in 2002, his Republican opponent Saxy Chambliss attacked his voting record concerning the "war on terror." One TV ad flashed images of bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, and Senator Cleland, lumping them together as opponents of the war on terror. Bin Laden and Hussein for obvious reasons, Cleland because he liked his own Homeland Security bill more than Bush's. The tag line for the commercial: "Max Cleland says he has the courage to lead. But the record proves Max Cleland is just misleading." Chambliss won the seat. Cleland went home.

I don't know what makes me more mad. The fact that Chambliss didn't have the integrity to tell the whole story about Cleland's voting record, that he compared a Vietnam war veteran to Osama bin Laden, or that Chambliss had the gall to question Cleland's courage when he sat out the war with a bad knee while Cleland lost three limbs in active combat.

All this came back to me while watching Cleland's speech, from a wheelchair behind the podium at the DNC. Kerry's and Bush's speeches probably won't be much to write home about, but it's these speeches by their friends and colleagues that are important to watch, because I think they tell a lot about a person's character. Of course they'll be whitewashed for the consumption of the American public on national television, but they're still important, I think, because you really can know something about the character of a man by the company he keeps.

numbers

70 people now, the first reports I heard were lower. 70 people now, dead in Iraq. Not an American among them, but does that really matter? It shouldn't matter, but for some reason, it still does.

70 people now. And other numbers too staggering to talk about. I can't take much more of this.

Can't fall asleep.

Sometimes I wonder how many other people listened to bonnie 'prince' billy, a tribe called quest, and the polyphonic spree today. Do I need to meet these people? Should I start a fan club that includes all three just to find out? What would I call it? Would there be dues? Would I continue to be a part of the club were I ever voted out as president?

I hope Martha Stewart goes to jail for a long, long time. There's just something about her. She's shifty. I don't like her demeanor. And I think she would kill people for a living if someone offered her job like that. Never turn your back on her.

Today I climbed the fire escape to my roof. It was after sunset, so I took a flashlight to read Time magazine. I need to do this more often.

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition might be end result of the evolution of television. All other programs were made in order to produce this. Television's crowning achievment. It does not get any better than this. Even if they brought back Earth:2, and aired it against EMHE, I would stick to my guns. My remote would not waver. I would stand firm upon the promises of God.

I think I would like to walk on the moon. This is my sole reason for supporting capitalism. I must make enought money to reach the moon. No matter who I have to crush, I will prevail.

One-two-three-four. Why the [explicative deleted] ain't MCs MC no more?

If I had to have a man crush on any one person, I think it would be Conan O'Brien. I will not get into specifics.

Why do I have three phones in my apartment? Is there any need for this, really? And why are two of them not even hooked up? Do I have a problem that needs medical attention? Do I just need attention of any sort, period? Do I need to use a period in this paragraph? "."

I don't want to vote for anyone. That's not true, I want to vote for John McCain and Christine Todd Whitman. I want to get a lump in my throat when I hear a candidate talk. I want to weep openly when they are announced at the nominating convention. I want to cast a vote come November without feelings of guilt or shame. I want the impossible. I delude myself. I should take up tennis, and forget about believing in public officials. I should place my trust in Boris Becker and Gorin Isovich.

It's time for bed. I only need the tempature to drop another ten degrees, then things will be ideal for a good sleep. I hate it that the Rolling Stones have sold "You Can't Always Got What You Want" to some Sprint or McDonalds or Merril Lynch. Does it matter who? Does it matter?

On Matters Regarding the State of the Union

An introductory note: this was written in Borders this afternoon after seeing Fahrenheit 9/11. My plan was to see Spider-Man, then Fahrenheit if I felt like another movie. I was running late (surprise) and missed the start of Spider-Man, and Fahrenheit was starting soon after I got there, so....

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Back to the Future III was on TBS the other day, and while cleaning the house, I caught the last half an hour or so. I joined in right before Doc takes his one shot of Whiskey and passes out on the bar room floor. May favorite line from the movie comes later in the scene: "Let's make some wake-up juice." (Side-note: I did a Google search on the line, because I'm a geek, and only found one hit for the line. That's kind of sad [in more ways than one].) Anyways, the "juice" does the trick, and Doc sobers up.

Confession: I'm a wuss, and I've never been drunk. For the most part, I don't even like alcohol. Red wine tastes a bit like vinegar poured through dirty socks, and white wine doesn't fare much better. Beer smells like urine, and tastes like armpit sweat. These are just my opinions, so you don't have to agree. So even though I've never been drunk, today I learned what it feels like to sober up. Just about fifteen minutes ago, I got done watching Fahrenheit 9/11, Michael Moore's documentary about September 11, homeland security, and the war on terror in Afghanistan, Iraq, and abroad. And all I can say at this point is that it was, if nothing else, sobering.

Let's get the BS out of the way upfront. Moore's documentary is not journalism (it barely even pretends to be objective). It's incredibly biased, narrated by the author, rather than a detached, observant third party; and Moore leans heavily on emotional pathos rather than argumentative, persuasive fact telling in order to make his case. His documentary's are more left-leaning propaganda than reasoned, articulate accounts of the state of affairs in Flint, Columbine, Iraq, or wherever else he might be shooting. They have to be consumed with discernment and judged only after a thorough examination of the facts in question. But damn if this guy isn't persuasive.

I don't want to talk too much about the content of the documentary. Just to say that Fahrenheit 9/11 has high points and low points, moments where I wanted to yell obscenities at Moore for distorting facts, and moments where I almost stood up and shouted, "Amen!" If anything, this film has gumption. It also has courage, and it intentions are pure. If it screws things up, it s because its director is just another messed up human. Moore might be totally off base at times, and he might beat certain things to death that should never have been beaten in the first place. But it cannot be said that Moore is not passionate, and it cannot be argued the he is not righteous in his cause. Because, completely factual or not, his cause is righteous. Fahrenheit 9/11 is about many things, but its mostly about patriotism. Maybe not my brand of patriotism, and maybe not yours, but it is about patriotism nonetheless.

If you have friends or relatives in the armed services, whether in Iraq or anywhere else around the world, please go see this film. If you care about the world community's view of Western Christianity, as our soldiers (whether Christian or not) represent the American Church to countries who have little or no contact with modern conservative evangelicalism, please, go see this film. If you plan to cast a vote, ever again, at any point in the rest of your life, for any publicly held position of government authority, please, here is where I beg, please go see this film. You don't have to agree with Moore; you can even hate and taunt him with belittling names, drawing malicious little doodles on his face in print adds, mocking his every word. But you at least have to hear what he has to say before you can begin to criticize. Because what he has to say is sobering, and it is just.

I could be writing about Back to the Future III right now, because, to be honest, I really love it. It takes me back to 4th grade, when things were simpler because Iraq was invading other countries for oil, and Don Mattingly was the greatest baseball player God had ever breathed into existence. But I can't just write about the exploits of Doc Brown and Marty McFly, because it wouldn't be just. We've got to talk about what's important sometimes, and we've got to figure out what's best for our nation, simply put because we're called to: "And what does the LORD require of you, but to do justice, and to love kindly, and to walk humbly with your God?" -- "Remind them to be submissive to rulers and authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good work." That last verse from Titus is especially poignant, because things have changed since Paul's day. The People are the rulers now, and the public servants we elect answer to us. We're the boss, and it's up to us to exercise an informed opinion. And if our servants in public office fail to submit to the will of the People, it's up to the People to set things straight. It's what we're called to.

watching flims at half speed

Yes, yes...I know it's late. But I've spent most of the night trying to get the internet to work on my computer. Oh-ho! That's right, I own my very own computer these days. Where have I been the last three weeks? In good old www.limbo.suck, where we are currently swapping ISPs at work, allowing me to check my email just once in that time. But Shady's back.

So news. Uh-huh, I have a beautiful new iMac, courtesy of the credit/debt society in which we live. Some might say I'm a fool (I might say I'm a fool), but I think it may be worth it. It took me a while to coax a dial-up connection out of my old apartment phone lines, but here I am. P.S., dial-up is as slow as ever. And by slow I mean not awesome or fun to use. But, it's better than nothing.

Summer at work is tremendous. There have been problems, but nothing that dampens the utter radicalness that is hanging out with kids all summer long. I am rediscovering some bands that I never really discovered in the first place: Spoon, the Walkmen, Stereolab, Godspeed..., Dntel; and loving every second of their little works of pop heaven. Last night, I found a story in my head from (first) senior year that might be fun to tell, so I started writing random things down. Fourth of July weekend, I almost drove to Edmonton, Canada, but decided against it when I realized I was broke. But that almost didn't stop me. Also, I have found a neato spot here in Lewistown to hang out where one can get away without actually going anywhere. But it's kind of a secret. More on that at a later date.

Many emails to write, and I will respond to each and every person except for Carrie, who just sends me emails from some eTicket place asking me to sign up for free movie tickets with email subjetcs like "Hey, Want Some Free Tickets?" or "Let's Get Free Tickets Together!" They are the bane of my existence. In fact, in these messages, I have found my Nemesis -- junk email from friends. I will die fighting this beast.

Okay then, I have to sleep now. Adios!

an old tire, made new by jesus

Thinking thoughts of Modest Mouse, Kings of Leon, and how long you can keep meat in the fridge before it goes bad. But I have a hardy stomach. I think.

Which brings me back to my original point: sometimes, you can judge a book by it's cover, if it's only a book.

On Ronald Reagan, Meg Ryan, and Urban Hymns (sung daily, near vacant lots, utility closets, driving old folks crazy)

Little House of Savages

It's a beautiful night here in Lewistown. Fifty degrees, overcast, drizzley-mist type rain, and good Walkmen songs in my head. During the day, I swear (if not for the casinos) I could be in Scotland or the Shire. At night, I know with every fiber of my insides that this is wonderful place to spend year 23. But that's not what I want to talk about.

Two self-discoveries made whilst watching television:

I'm in love with the idea of Meg Ryan. Not the person, because I have no idea what the person is like. But the idea -- awkward and witty and Meg Ryanish (even her name is cute -Meg- how can you not adore her?).

It's because I live a pitiful existence. Sure, it's full of life and joy and Montana skies. But it's also full of TBS Superstation showings of You've Got Mail. This is the life of a pseudo-Bohemian, faux-loner, which I want sometimes, but mostly not. Mostly I want things that I'm not ready for. Life things. Like mini-vans.

Last night, I spent an hour watching President Reagan in repose. This is roughly what I saw.

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I started watching at 12:30 MDT, which meant it was 2:30 in Washington. And I couldn't believe how many people were there, at two in the morning, milling through the capital rotunda to catch a 30 second glimpse of a flag draped over a coffin.

I want to feel that way about a president. I'm no fool. And Reagan was no saint. But I want to vote for someone I could wait hours in line to pass their casket, to take my children, to be proud in recounting the story to my grandchildren. I was there. I want that so very much. I want the real deal. I want to vote for a good man or woman, not the lesser of two morons. I want to believe in someone so whole-heartedly that I drop everything, quit my job, volunteer full time, wearing suits to work, rolling up my sleeves and taking off my jacket to canvas the neighborhood, convincing people that a vote for this person could affect their life for the better.

In a perfect world, I would work for that person, and be married to Meg Ryan, and open for the Walkmen someone on the Upper East Side.

In a perfect world, I wouldn't watch this much television.

As Smart As We Are

Finally, I just popped The Verve's Urban Hymns into the computer, and iTunes came back with two possible choices: The Verve - Urban Hymns; or Phillip Boa & The Voodooclub - My Private War.

I think I'm going to pick Phillip Boa. I'm hoping for the best.

Uh-Oh, Jonny's Getting Political Again

In the magic biz, they call it sleight of hand.

If you haven't heard, CIA Director George Tenet announced his resignation today. While I've been trying to keep the political to a minimum here, I couldn't help but type a few thoughts about this.

Tenet has been the CIA chief for seven years. He was appointed by then president Bill Clinton, and was kept on by George W. Bush because, quite frankly, everyone seemed to like him. The CIA was in the dumps before he came along; struggling to find a purpose in a post-Cold War world. And Tenet was gradually beginning to give them that purpose, the key word being gradual. September 11th forced him to move much faster than government organizations generally like to go. Gradual evolution turned to terrorist-frenzy revolution. And they've still got a long way to go. But it won't be with Tenet at the forefront.

Tenet has come under a lot of criticism for the CIA's intelligence miss-steps pre-September 11th. And because he is the Director, that's part of his job description. But of all the people to take a fall while the war in Iraq is loosing domestic support here in the States, Tenet is the least likely figure. If anyone is to blame for post-war operations in Iraq, it's the Pentagon. They ran into this war without a solid reconstruction game plan. And now we're paying the price for it. Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld and Deputy Director Paul Wolfowitz, who head the Pentagon for President Bush, should take the lion's share of the blame for what's happening now. Not George Tenet.

Bush is nothing if he is not loyal. But he takes that to a fault sometimes. Bush claims that Tenet is leaving for personal reasons and that he will miss the CIA chief. And I really do believe that Bush believes that. Why? Because G.W. Bush is intensely loyal, and at a time when resignations need to be made by some of his staff, he has refused to call for them. Tenet, understanding the political landscape perhaps more than Bush, realizes that someone really needs to resign. And if no one else will do it, he'll take the fall.

If anything, it's Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz that come out more villainous in my mind after this resignation. Bush is just being Bush -- loyal and resolute. Tenet humbly takes the blame for as many of the problems in Iraq as the media and 9/11 Commission will give him credit for. While the Department of Defense gets away with major miscalculations in post-war Iraq, that have cost us, and continue to cost us, hundreds of American lives (not to mention an astronomical number of Iraqi lives as well).

Okay, I'm done.

This is the one, I think, where I almost kiss God for creating eyeballs.

I spent Memorial Day in the mountains. A first for me, I'm almost certain. Been sick this past weekend, but around noon, I knew I had to get out of the apt. So I packed my backpack, grabbed a couple of books, my camera, and my guitar, then headed for the hills.

My first stop was the Snowy Mountains. It's been raining on and off for the last three weeks, so the grass is actually green! Not green green, but almost. Couldn't get all the way to the lake in my car (roads closed!), so I decided to see how my body would handle hiking. Not a good idea. After about 45 minutes I started getting dizzy, and had a hard time keeping my balance. Then it started hailing. So I headed back for my car, and read for about two hours.

Next up were the Judith Mountains, which are alot closer to Lewistown. I drove around, trying to find a road that would take me up instead of around, and found the king of all mountain roads -- the one that took me up to Judith Peak.

(This is where I stop writing, speechless....)

You could see just about the whole state. Well, maybe if the state were Delaware. But you could sure see alot. And green and snowy mountains, forests and valleys, and little tiny houses, endless plains and lumps in throats, cold hands and flip flops and Saturn cars on mountain peaks.

A good day, I think.

In Montana (Late For The Sky)

So, driving back to Lewistown from the airport, what might have happened to the young Jonathan Rice? Could he have run out of gas? Could he have picked up a crazy hitch hiker? Could he have hit a deer? No, worse than all of these things. He ran into a snow storm. No crashes, no drunken strangers in the passanger seat, no fuel shortages, just snow. In the middle of May. Stupid, stupid Montana.

Sunday, I got in before noon, but couldn't bear driving back to Lewistown yet. So I wandered around Barnes and Noble, Borders, the Mall, Wal-Mart, and the dollar movie theatre (seeing Return of the King, which went down easier the second time; though i didn't finish it because i was very sleepy and still had a two hour drive ahead of me; i think i missed the last 45 minutes or so). It was raining when i flew in, which made me feel a little better, because it felt like Indiana when I left. But damn the night for turning it to snow! May is for rain!!!

I miss people more than ever. The first six months weren't bad; it wasn't until I came home over Christmas, then came back to Montana, that I first got homesick. Winter mostly sucked. But it had been warming up and things were seeming to get better. My trip to Indiana/Michigan, then the subsequent snow storm upon return to Lewistown, kind of blew all that spring-time comfort and good cheer away.


Give me the splendid silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.

--Walt Whitman