George W. Bush Is Protecting Your Ass Whether You Like It Or Not

As my car rumbled down the interstate I noticed a bumper sticker that had our president’s name on it. Of course, this caught my attention so I sped up. I figured I’d see “George W. Bush: Worst Ever” or “George W. Bush: Impeach!” or one of a myriad of anti-Bush stickers available to the public. Oh, how wrong I was. As I approached the rear of the vehicle I could read the sticker with much more clarity and emblazoned across the horizontal banner was: “George W. Bush Is Protecting Your Ass Whether You Like It Or Not.” My first reaction was to laugh out loud. I was immediately followed by my daughter’s response in chorus with mine.

Yesterday, it was announced that a plot to basically destroy JFK International Airport had been foiled by the feds. This is a scary story. But, then it was supposed to be, right? I’m not usually one to fall for lefty conspiracy theories, but I have a feeling that this announcement serves as a double-edged sword. One edge is the one that incites a certain level of fear amongst the American population and, indeed, the world at large. There is a certain level of value in this because with fear comes insecurity and with insecurity comes uncertainty and with uncertainty comes a need for leadership and with leadership comes an absolute requirement for control. Control is something the Bush administration has sought ever since the planes crashed into the World Trade Center and into The Pentagon. The second edge is the value of dissemination of information vs. information security and sensitivity. It is well known that the millennium attacks were foiled by the feds under the Clinton administration. But, we didn’t know about it for quite some time after the plots were foiled. I think this is because President Clinton and his administration at the time felt no need to use the immediacy of plot-disruption as an item to either scare the public or to garner support. Moreover, it was an administration doing it’s job. I am of the firm belief that if you’re doing your job correctly, no pat on the back is needed. President Bush, however, feels every inkling of terrorist activity needs to be broadcast across all media outlets to prove his vigilance. I understand that it is highly unlikely that I know of every terrorist plot being hatched out there. Of course, I don’t. But then, the American climate also seems to dictate that we all need to know when these things happen so that we can believe that our government is protecting us which was an America that was, sadly and to our country’s detriment, not displayed on 9/11.

Quite a conundrum: keep it secret or keep them scared?

Would You Like Some Petrol With Your Trunks?

Friday afternoon, I was enjoying a lunch outing with my two kids (my wife, to my utter and absolute jealousy, was/is in Portland and Seattle for the weekend…) We dined at a local greasy-spoon joint called the “101 Diner” which is located, you guessed it, on Highway 101 in Encinitas – which is a hop, skip, and a jump away from our place. They have an amazing chili-size. Eat it if you ever go there. Anyway, as we finished lunch and proceeded to walk amongst the throngs of people along the strip, I noticed the heavy sounds of whirring helicopter props. They sounded much too close to be just a passing fun-ride. I didn’t really think any further about it until, while stopped at a nearby intersection, we witnessed a local news van cruise by headed toward the beach. I knew something had to be up.

Most certainly, up something was! I first heard the news from my brother-in-law, John. He mentioned that some surfers came out of the water that morning feeling very ill while covered in some sort of oil. This was the first report of a large oil spill along the coast here in Encinitas. The likely first suspect, at least to me, was the Navy. The government doesn’t care if they defile the ocean as long as the mission is focused. Then, I thought differently, and figured that they’d probably at least own up to it to local officials who make some pretty valiant attempts at keeping the waters and beaches around here clean (so as to not piss of the -whooah- surfers and their money.) My second guess was some private shipping company and their mission – money. This really screwed the weekend around here. Not only could no one swim on any of the beaches here, there was supposed to be a surfing tournament that was to attract over 6,000 people. The tourney, of course, was canceled and the competition was morphed into a series of beach volleyball games.

What really pisses me off about this is the proximity of the “accident” to my home. If you look at the map from the linked page, right where the “C” is in “N. Coast Hwy 101″ is where my house is. There are tons of use for the water in the area aside from riding it and swimming in it. It provides the moisture that the coast needs for its lush vegetation (inland vegetation comes from the incalculably distant Colorado river – yeah, California is like that) and for, Jesus, everything. The clouds that sit over head during the months of May and June are made up of the vapors from the ocean itself. Am I to not assume that these clouds and foggy, dewy nights are free from any level of toxicity beyond the normal amounts we ingest? Doubt it…..

Time To Go Home

Cindy Sheehan has packed her bags and gone home. I felt for Cindy Sheehan when I first learned about her. Her son’s story was tragic and her feelings were spilled onto the public floor all to consume. The story of Cindy and her son is certainly tragic. However, at some point her message just didn’t hit any longer. Was it because the media didn’t pay attention to her anymore? Did she just lose her edge? I don’t know, but she stayed while we left. I thought perhaps she was trying too hard and didn’t know when to stop. But, then, when do you stop for your kids?

I didn’t see the parallels between Cindy Sheehan and President Bush until I glanced over the linked article above. She knew what to do when she wasn’t effective any more. President Bush and his administration, however, do not.

35

I turned 35 earlier this week. I’m not sure if this is good or bad. I feel like I haven’t moved in years. But then, I’ve moved all over the place in the last few. I feel like I’m losing touch with whatever drives me to do what I need to do. I’m not even sure what it is that I need to do.

My younger daughter asked me this morning, “Daddy, why aren’t you an artist anymore?”

I couldn’t give her an answer that made any sense to her – or to me.

Maybe a manifesto would help?

Have a good week, my fair, few readers – don’t forget to chew before you swallow.

Read: Mastication and Regurgitation