to the vanquished, the spoils

Combining historical accuracy with cultural sensitivity!
Here is the scenario:

Your side has just been decisively defeated by the opposition. While the rout can be credited in part to the superior leadership, organization, and tactics of the enemy, the unfortunate (but entirely forseeable) consequences of your side's ideological and policy decisions were also a major factor.

Even after launching every weapon in your arsenal and mobilizing your most loyal and reliable ground forces, you had to fight (and lose) on fronts that you hadn't even anticipated from the outset.

So, faced with such a colossal rebuke of your strategy, tactics, and global vision, do you:

1. Humbly reflect on the errors in judgement that caused your loss and recalibrate your focus?

2. Brazenly attempt to dictate terms to the victorious side while refusing to acknowledge the reasons for your defeat?

If you answered "2," you could have a great future ahead of you as a right-wing op-ed columnist.

Manual Scan - American Way (from a 1982 single; collected on This Is Mod v.6: The United States of Mod, 1999) - "Never apologize. It's a sign of weakness." If there's one thing I've learned as an American, it's that sociopathy and arrogance are more socially acceptable behaviors than signs of "weakness" are.

Don't let the compliation title fool you -- this cut may be mod revival by association, but the postpunk influences (Gang of Four and Pylon, specifically) are unmistakable.

the turd in the punchbowl

It was supposed to be a golden moment in American history, and indeed it was. The realization that I was witnessing something very important happening, on so many levels, managed to cut its way past decades of cynicism born of thwarted idealism and swell my heart with pride.

I went to bed last night giddy with hope and schadenfreude, and though I still feel the warm buzz, it has since been harshed by events in California, where it looks like the ban on and possible nullification of same sex marriage has been approved.

While I was, and still am, thrilled about the symbolic and historical significance of Obama's victory, Proposition 8 is something that has a direct and immediate impact on people's lives. That some of these people are good friends of mine made it especially personal is beside the point -- it's more than a matter of seeing my friends have equal rights and protections under the law, it's a matter of basic fairness for all regardless of my personal connections to the parties involved.

I'm a pragmatic idealist. I am more than capable of bending my principles for the sake of incremental or less than perfect gain, and am willing to hold my nose and play the crooked game if it brings progress in the now, rather than staking my hopes on a millennarian sea change in some imagined future. I realize that might make me look a bit...unsound...to some of my more uncompromising comrades even if I share the same grand ideals.

I cannot, however, bring myself to bend on the subject of egalitarian principles. Everyone should be granted equal rights, responsibilities and protections under the law. That's a no brainer. It's the cornerstone of any just society. So how could anyone with any sense of fairness or justice of conscience presume to dictate something as personal as the bond between two consenting adults?

Because it's an easy target, sanctioned by social, cultural, and theological prejudices and given the opportunity to single out a perceived "other." For what? Smug satisfaction? Anticipation of some spiritual award? Simple mean-spiritedness?

That's utter bullshit. As I said back when similar nonsense was going down here in the Bay State, the only people who can "protect" or "devalue" marriage are you and your spouse. I don't conduct my personal relationship with Maura by looking over my shoulder at what other couples are doing, nor would I even deign to dictate terms of matrimony to other grownups. To think that such deeply personal matters ought to be subject to referendum is obnoxious in the extreme, leaving things in the hands of some petty-minded assholes on the other side of the state to legislate.

Look, folks, if you want to parade around in your vestments of smug righteousness, confident about your reserved place in the heavenly host, more power to you (though I suspect you might be disappointed in the end). Just keep your fucking noses out of other people's personal business, right? Don't you have some quasi-incestuous Purity Ball to plan for or something?

The Adverts - New Day Dawning (from a 1978 b-side; collected on The Punk Singles Collection, 1997) - I had been planning to repost my post-Election 2006 miniplaylist today, because it has been two years and there's no topping perfection. Events being what they are, however, I'm not up for unbridled joy, so we'll go with the most ambiguous (and sinister) selection from that day.

For the record, here's what I had on repeat last night when I was in full-on happy mode...

a historic moment

More when I can form a coherent thought, but....

HOLY SHIT, IT REALLY HAPPENED.

night turns to day

Election 2008 -- this time it's personal.

It's not about validating a flawed system of governance or overreaching hopes for meaningful change or some lingering vestiges of patriotic idealism.

It's about spite, an opportunity to flip the bird at the sanctioned looters and their legion of sanctimonious thugs which have run roughshod over everything that is sane and decent for the last eight years.

That's more than enough for me.

A Popular History of Signs - Land of the Free (from Comrades, 1984) - I suppose I could have went with Arcadia again, but why settle for post-Duran leavings when this New Order-y slice of obscure synthpop will suffice?

A final note to my readers in the Golden State: You are voting "no" on Proposition 8, right?

wake up

Orbital - Choice (from the US version of Orbital, a.k.a. the "Green Album", 1991) - The lines have been drawn. The soul of the nation hangs in the balance. Get off the fence and join the election year rave. The party won't stop until the last ballot drops.

tired of being upset

It's been a while since we checked up on Senator Psycho Man. I wonder what he's been up to these past few weeks....

Meanwhile, back at the McCain campaign headquarters.....


November 5th can't come soon enough.

The Buzzcocks - Everybody's Happy Nowadays (from Singles Going Steady, 1979) - It must be true, because I saw it in a poll.

drill baby drill

Tom Smirch is a typical American...

"Fuck you, nanny state jerks! This is the land of the FREE!"
...with a typically American sense of moral obligation.

"Oh, well. If anyone asks, I'll say it was started by illegal immigrants."
Tom's ecological conscience makes him perfectly suited for work in the oil industry, where he can work to generate windfall profits while despoiling virgin landscape to make America independent from foreign oil.

You just know his truck is sporting a "Ron Paul '08" bumpersticker...
Tom is just trying to live the American Dream, but try explaining that to those pointed-headed liberal elitists bent on wrecking our cherished way of life...

Captain Marvel's flagrant disregard for IOKIYAR is appalling.
Because Marvel was too busy saving townspeople from the tar flood instead of rescuing Tom's excavation equipment, the drilling venture goes belly up and Tom is ruined....

...OR IS HE?

You're doing a heckuva job, Smirchy!
(From Captain Marvel Adventures #126; November 1951)

I was watching the fallout from the collapse of Bush's grand corporate welfare plan on the morning news. The network gave a considerable amount of screen time to various stockbrokers and speculators, who were universally unrelenting in expressing their contempt of Congress's lack of action.

I'm not convinced the bailout plan will work, and I'm certain that it won't help those folks who have suffered most from the market meltdown, but the last thing I need to see are the same motherfuckers who lined their pockets during the late smash-and-grab-a-thon bitching that the government isn't riding to their rescue fast enough. To quote Comrade Highlander, "my heart bleeds pish" for them. Let them pray to the trinity of Adam Smith, Ludwig von Mises, and Milton Friedman for succor...or is that "suckers?"

Transvision Vamp - Baby, I Don't Care (from Velveteen, 1989) - Schadenfreude loses much of its luster when innocents are caught in the vortex of comeuppance. Transvision Vamp loses much of its indie bubblegum luster when you realize that every song on every album sounds virtually identical.

Future Sound of London - It's Not My Problem (from Accelerator, 1991) - It's not my problem unless it affects me directly, in which case it's the WORST THING THAT EVER HAPPENED EVER AND SOMEONE NEEDS TO FIX IT RIGHT NOW.

get off my lawn

So, did you manage to catch last night's presidential debate? No? Well, I don't blame you considering it ran opposite Say Yes to the Dress. If I'm going to suffer through a television-induced optical migraine, I'd much rather it be caused by the diva-tastic antics of a megalomaniacal bride-to-be than by the phony bloodsport of 21st century American politics.

The wheels of the media-established consensus machine are still spinning at this point, so I am forbidden by law to assess which of the candidates "won" the face-off. Senator Obama did well enough in discussing foreign policy issues, considering that such subjects are supposedly where he is weakest. His nuanced approach to American militarism remains troubling, as it is impossible to tell how much of it is pandering to the "kick some ass" demographic and how much of it is sincere.

As for Senator McCain?

Wow, he actually looks better there than he did on the podium last night. (I kid. McCain doesn't look like the Reverend Kane from Poltergeist 2, no matter what my wife might say. He looks like an old school Sontaran. I'd add that Sarah Palin looks like the evil auction house woman from the first season of Charmed, but that would mean letting the world know I watch Charmed and....oh, fuck.)

While I do not believe that appearances ought to be the deciding factor in a political contest (though "Empress Tuesday Weld" has a nice ring to it), I'm pretty sure that looking and comporting oneself like Mr. Neighborhood Crankypants isn't the best way to win votes. The only things he was missing last night were an overgrown hedge, a German Shepherd, and a collection of seized Frisbees and wiffle balls.

When he did exhibit a rare flash of lucidity and substance, it was only to elucidate a more belligerent, if such a thing is even possible, foreign policy platform than we presently have. I don't deny that shit sells to a substantial section of the populace, but "extremist reiteration of the status quo" isn't what I'd call synonymous with "maverick."

The debate was McCain's to lose, despite the backfiring of his economic "white knight" stunt. The expert was supposed to school the neophyte, thus proving the latter's unreadiness to lead. Even if one calls the debate a draw, as the media consensus is tentatively claming it was, it means that McCain was evenly matched by Obama in the one area where he supposedly held a decisive advantage.

They can spin it in the media arena as much as they like, but I'm guessing that whatever pragmatic souls exist in the McCain campaign are currently shitting themselves.

Iggy Pop - Winners & Losers (from Blah Blah Blah, 1986) - Pop goes mainstream! This track (along with two others on the album) was co-written by ex-Pistol Steve Jones, coming on the heels of his stint in Chequered Past and prior to his solo career as a former guitar hero-turned-MOR hard rocker.

Fun Boy Three - The More I See (The Less I Believe) (from Waiting, 1983) - I liked Terry Hall better when he wasn't trying to compete with Robert Smith. One Robert Smith is enough for this world (or rather "too much," since Mr. Smith discovered the magical powers of elastic waistbands). That said, when Hall and company weren't moping up songs originally written by Hall for The Go-Go's, they did manage to record the odd bit of nifty, socially aware pop such as today's featured selection.

three hundred more years

From the pages of Mystery in Space #5 (December 1951-January 1952) comes this prescient glimpse into mankind's glorious future...as made possible by the unmatched killing power of the S-64 Disintegrator Gun:

...and by "Earth," we mean "America."
Thus S'less'thar, revered shaman and a cephalapod of peace, passed from this world. The rest of the I'lloni tribe had little time to mourn his passing, as they sooned joined him in radioactive oblivion. A Space Wal-Mart now marks the place where they died.
"So, any of you ugly motherfuckers know if there's oil around these parts? You've got fifteen seconds to answer."
"...and God help anyone stupid enough to challenge our Divine mandate to rule."
Hey, you can't argue with "Spaceman-ifest Destiny." (Not if you like being non-disintegrated, that is.)

Depeche Mode - Barrel of a Gun (from Ultra, 1997) - Catching up with the Industrial Dance Pop Scene? Or perhaps Music for the Goth Club Masses?

The Flesh Eaters - Disintegration Nation (from a 1978 single; collected on No Questions Asked, 2004) - The Flesh Eaters tend to get lumped in with the L.A. deathrock crowd, but aside from a slight arty inclinations and occasionally macabre subject matter, I don't really hear the connection...just some straight up, rough-edged punk rawk.

the premises now in existence

From a 1921 advertisement for the Willys-Overland Sedan, a self-proclaimed "Woman's Car":


...at which point Helen was forcibly dragged from her car by a couple of Alexander Mitchell Palmer's agents, tortured, and sentenced without hearing under the Anarchist Exclusion Act of 1918. Despite being born in Cedar Rapids, Helen was then deported to the Soviet Union, where she died of starvation during Comrade Lenin's "Glorious People's Economic Plan to Kill a Whole Bunch of People" a year later.

Chumbawamba - The Good Ship Lifestyle (from Tubthumper, 1997) - "This is your captain speaking. We appear to have run aground on the reef of harsh reality. Please make a mad rush toward the limited number of lifeboats. Millionaires and trophy wives first."

you are the big one

While it may have been perfectly fine in 1950 to create a gag strip featuring an aspiring hammy actor named "Whitey Way" (as in "The Great White Way"), the name carries a whole truckload of non-Broadway connotations for present-day readers...

The Heart Throbs - Kiss Me When I'm Starving (from Cleopatra Grip, 1990) - The pillars of the speculation-based economy may be crumbling around us, but my love for melancholic indie pop remains forever solvent...especially when the piece in question sounds like a jam session between The Banshees and The Primitives.

at weekends will change their behavior

With all the hoopla regarding the circus of pain and stupidity known as the 2008 presidential election, it's easy to forget that there are other electoral contests being held this November 4.

With that in mind, the two candidates for the state representative seat in my little corner of Boston's northwestern suburban sprawl have been packing my mailbox to the brim with reminders of what's really at stake.

The answer is "not that much." It's a symptom of the problems of living in a de facto one-party state. Not that I'd ever vote Republican, but the presence of an active opposition would at least motivate some of these party hacks to try a bit harder, and not settle for the traditional paradox platform of "lower taxes/more and better services" that the average suburbanite can't seem to get enough of. "I want decent roads and a great school system, but that extra fifteen bucks a year in taxes is too rich for my blood. I have Escalade payments to make, after all!"

I take my civic responsibility seriously, and take pains to vote in every election, no matter how inconsequential. Even if it's a futile gesture, I refuse to cede that marginal say in how things are done. Besides, at least I'm balancing out the vote of one other motivated idiot. The state rep decision is a bit of a puzzler, though, because I really don't care for either of the choices.

No matter how intently they look me in the eye during a door-to-door meet'n'greet and promise the sun, moon, and stars that they won't fuck over civil servants ( which both the wife and I are) on contract, benefits, or pension matters, no matter how much they swear they won't roll over for some out of state developer's plans to drop a massive luxury condo complex in our backyard, their records speak for themselves. (C'mon, I can't be the only person to pay attention to how these folks vote in the legislature and city council. What, I am? Oh.)

In the end, I'll probably do what I always do in these situations: cast a write-in ballot for my dog Oscar. Given the steady decline in voter turnout, I fully expect the little guy to win one of these years, too. He is better qualified for the office, that's for frigging sure.

Here's a sample from today's prodigious haul of eco-unfriendly landfill fodder disguised as campaign literature. See, that One Guy has been hammering that Other Fellow over his blue state bona fides. It's an argument that I'd ordinarily be receptive to, if that One Guy tossing stones didn't have a strong record of DINO tendencies himself:


My initial reaction to this was "Wait, the Catholic Church is allowed to donate directly to candidates?"

The Damned - Anti-Pope (from Machine Gun Etiquette, 1979) - Though quantum theology has predicted the existence of anti-popes, it wasn't until the constuction of the Large Liturgical Collider by Saint Hippolytus in the 3rd Century A.D. that one was actually observed in action.

a cowardly, superstitious lot

Forget the O'Neill/Adams run. Forget the Englehart/Rogers stories. Forget the issue when the Caped Crusader tossed a car battery at a thug. Here is the greatest Batman story ever told -- a public service announcement from late 1949:

"Holy Spygate, Batman!"
"Quick, old chum, dispense the Bat-Race Riot Supression Spray!"
"I speak for the majority, twerp! We don't need any Bat-judicial activism! LET THE PEOPLE DECIDE!"
"Says the man who associates with aliens and pagan feminist separatists! Face it, Batman, you're an elitist who is out of touch with real American values!"
"But, Batman, Hank's middle name is Hussein!"
"Now that I've shown myself to be a man of principle and tolerance, I will unleash my young ward to pander to your basest fears and prejudices!"
Seriously, what the fuck happened to this country's moral conscience in the past sixty years? (That's a rhetorical question. I know the answer all too well.)

The Special AKA - Racist Friend (from In the Studio, 1984) - It's a great bit of socially aware ska, I'll grant you that, but the group lost something crucial after Terry Hall's eyebrows left to join Fun Boy Three.

tell me where there's sanity

"When you get older, you'll understand." So speaks the purported voice of "realism" when cautioning on the pitfalls of youthful idealism. The underlying message is that once one has "bought in" or "sold out" or however one wants wants to spin it, logic dictates that hungry radicalism must give way to a defensive stance. Lock the doors, man the barricades, and beware the ravenous hordes that covet your treasures.

The rousing, yet polite debate in the comments of the Crass post from the other day got me to thinking about politics, specifically where I stand on the ideological spectrum these days. I've dabbled with the various -isms on the left side of the dial over the years -- flirtations both tempestuous and mild with anarchist, socialist, and communist schools of thought. I'm a registered Democrat, but voted SWP and Green in a couple of elections, and have a lasting mistrust of self-labeled "liberals" and "progressives" over the recurring lack of conviction and undercurrents of paternalism on their part.

In the end, doctrinal semantics or theories built on wishful thinking matter less to me than a core principle, namely that everyone deserves a fair shake and equal access to essential goods and services. Egalitarianism is the cornerstone, and the rest is just trivia to be endlessly debated in closed, self-defeating circles.

Dogma and abstract theory have no purpose towards this end. My idealism is rooted in pragmatism forged by years of empirical evidence. Alliances and associations are made and broken depending on how well they serve the greater objectives, and if that means participating a electoral system that is fundamentally broken for the sake of seeing that rights are extended to those who deserve them or defended from those who would subvert them, then so be it. I would rather play a short term game for tangible benefits than a dubious long term strategy that hurts many in the meantime.

I'm with the Enlightenment thinkers on this: People will be people, no matter how educated they are, and the the best we can really strive for is to encourage the better angels of our nature and mitigate the impact of the worse ones.

No revolution, no shift in the political paradigm, no amount of education will eradicate the intrinsic pettiness of the human animal. Trust in socialist revolution and you end up with Year Zero. Trust in free-market self-interest and you end up with...well, take a look around at the mess we're mired in. Trust in mutual co-operation based on shared interests, and it's likely that you've never had to sit through the collective paralysis and bickering of a union gathering or town meeting.

Education and faith mean less than a modicum of awareness and a functioning sense of empathy. The framework of modern civilization has gotten so elaborate and the threads of interdependence so convoluted that it is too easy to fall into a false sense of moral hazard, so that even when the consequences of one's actions manifest themselves it is an easy enough matter to deny, shift, or ignore the blame.

Barring some massive depopulation of the species and a return to scattered tribes of hunter-gatherers, a shift from psuedo-free market capitalism to autonomous soviets or nationalized industries will not address the real problem. Indoctrination of the abolition of currency will not prevent the emergence of would-be Dick Cheneys looking for angles to exploit.

It's a classic Catch-22: Revolutionary change without a mass awakening in civic vigilance is pointless, but if the masses possessed such a sense of vigilance, a revolution would be redundant.

Ten Years After - I'd Love to Change the World (from A Space in Time, 1971) - The sound of the 1960s counterculture collapsing in on itself.

Comsat Angels - Waiting for a Miracle (from Waiting for a Miracle, 1980) - What's the difference between a miracle and the 134 bus? The 134 bus does show up on rare occasions. The only historical inevitability is that people will do foolish things for foolish reasons.

nobody's sorry

If the recent events in the Twin Cities have had a certain mephitic familiarity to them, well....


They aren't without precedent.

Oh, I'm sorry. Was that offsides? Too fucking bad.

Yes, the G.O.P. hasn't advocated the liquidation of undesirables...openly, but that doesn't mean that there aren't other parallels.

Claiming a monopoly on patriotism and love of country? Check.

Demonizing the opposition as traitors? Check.

Claiming alliance with the clean-leaving regular folks against the decadent elites? Check.

Stressing ignorance as a virtue? Check.

Sporting perpetual hard-ons for any and all things militaristic? Check.

Emphasis on creepy, necrophiliac rituals of martyrdom? Check.

Led by a jumped up ex-military man with a bad temper and hatful of hollow promises to win the masses over even as he plans to fuck them over? Check.

Still, I suppose that as long as folks aren't being shipped off to death camps, the rest of the disturbing similarties can be overlooked, especially if the bootheel to come rests more heavily on someone else's neck, be they women, gays, blacks, latinos, liberals, foreigners, and the like.

Subway Sect - Nobody's Scared (from a 1978 single) - The death rattle of rationality. I've said it before (in the context of the Dead Kennedys music): When the situation on the ground rivals -- nay, exceeds the most paranoiac of punk prophecies, then we're in dire straits indeed, comrades.

Edit: Before the anonymous faces in the peanut gallery again decide for some cheap point-scoring, I'd just like to say that Godwin's Law can go fuck itself.

choose wisely or perish

The dreaded return of Senator Psycho Man -- because there is no gag I can't milk 'till the udders squirt dust!

(with apologies this time to Fantastic Four #284, November 1985)
I came of age in the era of home videogame consoles -- first the Pong clones, then the Atari age, the Nintendo generation, and all that followed. Before one was old enough to secure a source of disposable income, the purchase of a system was left in the hands of parents or relatives, either directly or through gifts of cash. It was crucially important to choose wisely and get the "right" system, lest one be stuck with a big pile of digitized suck while one's peers waxed euphoric about the console not taken.

It hurts to feel left out of the loop, especially when you're a kid and can't put things right via a high-interest credit card purchase. Humans being the adaptable creatures that we are, though, it was a simple enough matter to encyst the nagging feelings of envy by adopting an irrationaly defensive attitude...

My system doesn't suck, yours does! If you look at the specs, the Atari 7800 is far superior to the NES, and Solaris beats that stupid Super Mario bullshit any day! I wouldn't get a Nintendo even if they were giving them out for free! Quit laughing!

Repeat it often enough, and you might even come to believe it...even if in your heart of hearts you know the real truth. This midset, I suspect, is why videogame fandom tends to outstrip all others when it comes to twisted loyalty and bizarre outburts.

Substituting brand loyalty for community isn't anything new; it's an inevitable consequence of consumer capitalist society where traditional bonds of community have long been on the wane. Unlike, say, the Marvel versus DC fan rivalry, however, the cost of switch-hitting between factions is a hundred times more expensive, making the face-saving justifications that much more strident and impassioned.

I bring this up because I'm reminded of it each time I stumble across defenses of Sarah Palin's vice-presidential credentials issued by various right-wing pundits and the GOP's official PR flacks. It's rather pathetic watching the loyal unconvinced contort themselves through the most tenuous (even by political standards) chains of logic in order to justify an unjustifiable position. Palin is a foreign policy expert because the Japanese occupied the Aluetian Islands during the Second World War? Seriously? There's wishful thinking, and there's outright delusional psychosis.

Even more entertaining is how the justifications double back upon and contradict the previously prevailing rhetoric:

Experience matters, except when it doesn't. Oh, I mean a different kind of experience. Okay, look, I'm a fucking shill who will claim the moon is made of cheese if the party bosses say it will help their chances.

It's also great that the self-appointed arbiters of "traditional Christian morality" have managed to dig some Christian forebearance and compassion out of their junk drawers when it comes to Palin's unwed teenage daughter. "These things happen." Indeed they do, but will this new-found magnamity be extended to all...or just the certain politically expedient few?

Anyway you slice it, McCain's choice of Palin was a poor one. If it was done to shore up the support from social conservatives, there were plenty of better choices from which to pick. If it was done as an appeal to women voters and disillusioned Hillary supporters, there were several far more convincing and qualified options out there. It appears that there are many in the McCain camp who feel the same way, as the speed and ferocity of its responses to criticism -- such as bring up Doris Kearns Goodwin's political affiliation after she stated the historical fact that Palin's resume is the thinnest in the past hundred years of presidential elections -- rivals the defensive rants of any ten-year old who got a TurboGrafx-16 instead of a SNES for Christmas.

(I suspect that McCain's real motivation for going with Palin was because his ego would not allow for a second power base within the presidency -- see Dick "Richelieu" Cheney -- and that factored first above any other considerations.)

Any Trouble - Second Choice (from Where Are All the Nice Girls? 1980) - The Wikipedia entry for Any Trouble states that the band suffered from "unfair" comparisons to Elvis Costello. Unfair, perhaps, because it failed to mentioned the similarities to Squeeze as well.

Deadbeats - Choose You (from a 1980 single) - Not the L.A. punk rockers of "Kill the Hippies" fame, these Deadbeats were a British mod revival outfit. It's all good to me.

soon you'll all be singing along

(with the deepest of apologies to 1967's Fantastic Four Annual #5)
Pulp - The Fear (This Is Hardcore, 1998) - Of the unknown? Hardly. I know all too well what I'm afraid of happening on the fourth of November. Not even crash infusions of sublime Britpop can ease my anxieties.

Count Five - Psychotic Reaction (from Psychotic Revelation, 2003) - Superlative garage rock doesn't help, either, though not from lack of trying.

Friday Night Fights: Rush 'N' Attack

It's friday night, cats and kittens, which means it's time for a little realpolitik action with Black Canary, Master of International Diplomacy!

(from Justice League #3, July 1987; by Giffen, DeMatteis, Maguire & Gordon)
Now that's what I call détente....

The Dents - Not Through with You (from Time for Biting, 2006) - Up for some kickass parochial punk rawk? Maura caught them performing at a Boston Derby Dames a couple years back and their album has been on heavy houshold rotation ever since.

all gonna feel the pain

Though I can strongly relate to both Nick Carraway and Paul Pennyfeather, the fictional character I identify the most with is Major Clipton from The Bridge on the River Kwai, gazing down at the panorama of broken bodies and twisted wreckage and despairing at the stupidity and waste of it all: "Madness! Madness!"

An American-educated (tossed around by the media like it's a mark of distinction, though there is no shortage of dumbasses the descriptor applies to) leader of Georgia, a Western-friendly former Soviet republic, tries to mobilize domestic support by appealing to nationalism. He decides to retake a breakaway province with a carefully timed surprise attack that less carefully fails to consider the presence of a couple thousand Russian separatist-friendly "peacekeepers" in said province.

The usual stable of neocon loudmouths, feeling rosy with the glow of Cold War nostalgia, offer their expert predictions about how a massive global military power will be humiliated on the battlefield by 18,000 American-trained troops. Russia is happy to put those theories to the test, as the offensive gives them a plum opportunity to soothe its amputee's itch with a liberal dosage of military force, as well as deliver a message to the West and it's former Soviet proxies about fucking around in Russia's traditional spheres of influence.

The Russians defy the experts' proclamations, put the Georgians to flight, and systematically degrade their military infrastructure over the course of a few days. With his country being hammered by an implacable foe, the Georgian leader makes it his solemn responsibility to act like a true leader to his people in their hour of need....by appearing on American television and making hyperbolic pronouncements and chastising the Western powers for not backing him up and/or shielding him from the consequences of his massive lapse in judgement.

His words are echoed by the usual suspects in the media, who dust off the pre-1989 propaganda lexicons (but not, interestingly enough, their history books) and jettison any pretense of objective journalism to engage in some pre-end-of-history style jingoism, weaving the present state of idiocy into a psuedo-historic tapestry which includes the Russian Civil War, World War II, and the 1968 uprising in Prague. It's astonishingly easy to call for military intervention when you're not the one who will be doing the fighting and dying.

And what of the West? A lot of tough talk masking the fact that there's really fuck all they can do without starting World War III, or worse -- without pissing off a major natural gas supplier. The opportunity the conflict provides to bitch out Putin and Company is welcome, but behind the strong words and messages of moral support for the Georgian government is the uncomfortable and unspoken acknowledgement that no one wants to risk a broken nose because his or her reckless buddy picked a fight with the biggest bully in the bar...especially when you've been telling everyone for years that that the bully is no great shakes.

Russia, on the other hand, has shown a great deal of enthusiasm for twisting the knife as long as it's diplomatically feasible, relishing the opportunity to make its rival global powers twist impotently in the wind.

Ah, what a lovely thing geopolitics is, and if the people -- Georgian and South Ossetian -- whose nationalism was exploited to make this happen are the ones who are suffering most, they can take solace in the knowledge that it has all been done for the highest of ideals.

Icon AD - Fight for Peace (from the Don't Feed Us Shit EP, 1982; collected on Lest We Forget, 2006) - A paradox I can get behind.

waiting for the flash

Look at that sunavabitch go! Doesn't it just give you a tingly sensation all over, especially in the thyroid and reproductive organs? Since today happens to be the 63rd anniversary of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, I though it only proper to genuflect a little upon the event and its enduring legacy.

It was the ultimate product of the American "can do" spirit, the fireworks display that kicked off the beginning of the American Century (give or take a half-dozen decades). It showed the world that we had not only developed the means to end human civilization, but were also willing to use it if meant saving "a million lives" (or is that a billion now? Retroactive justifications are not immune to inflationary forces) or intimidating our uncomfortable Soviet allies with a display of overwhelming force upon a civilian target.


That last part worked so well that Joe Stalin's bunch of merry Bolsheviks wasted no time in acquiring some transuranic party poppers of their own, which wagered the future of the human race on a staring contest to end all staring contests. Fun times, indeed, especially for a kid whose global awareness was coming into sharp focus just as Ronnie Reagan decided to escalate the stakes in the name of God, country, and sweetheart defense contracts.

Flipping through issues of Discover and coming across absurdly cheery infographics about the science of the neutron bomb. Sneaking a peek at some of my father's National Guard manuals dealing with post-event assessment and body disposal. Lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling and wondering if I'd be one of the dead or one of the living who envied them. (Knowing what I know now about the target-rich environment of Boston's suburban ring and the power-over-accuracy doctrine of Soviet warhead design, it's clear I'd have been in the dead category, as anything inside I-495 would have become part of Boston Harbor after a full-on nuclear exchange.)

At least it all worked out in the end, right? America won the Cold War, or so I'm told. (How did you spend your promised peace dividend?) History ended, and we now live in a peaceful neo-liberal hegemony overseen by the bestest nation ever. The specter of radioactive annihilation is a thing of the past, a completely justified phase that we've put entirely behind us.

Strongarm sales of ABM equipment designed to provoke the Russians? Official efforts to make the use of tactical nuclear weapons acceptable to the American public? The same conglomerates which are responsible for spiking energy costs attempting to exploit the situation in order to build more nuclear power plants? You must be thinking of some dark alternate universe, friend.


Synch up your Doomsday Clocks, cats and kittens! We're packing a musical MIRV primed and ready to deliver megatons of melodic enjoyment, and you're standing at ground zero! The party doesn't stop until the last payload drops.

Crass - They've Got a Bomb (from The Feeding of the 5000, 1978) - When you've got a massive stockpile of hammers, everything looks like a nail.

Dr. Strangelove & The Fallouts - Love That Bomb (from a 1964 single; collected on Atomic Platters, 2005) - This peppy little track (most likely a Laurie Johnson effort) was released to promote Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece of apocalyptic comedy. Go-go until you're gone-gone.

The Cure - A Strange Day (from Pornography, 1982) - A languid waltz to the shores of the abyss. The view from the edge is fantastic, I'm told.

The Epoxies - We're So Small (from The Epoxies, 2002) - Adieu, my fair synthpunkers! While I'm saddened to see you go, you've left a fine legacy of two outstanding albums, a handful of great b-sides and compilation cuts, and a not-so-good final EP.

Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup - I'm Gonna Dig Myself a Hole (from Gonna Be Some Changes: 1946-54, 2008) - A master bluesman goes underground, twenty-nine years before Paul Weller got the same idea.