WASHINGTON (CNN) - Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin announced Friday she would not seek a second term and would soon step down as governor.
She wants to affect change "outside government". The national press is "picking apart a good point guard", and it's time to "pass the ball".
More to come, no doubt. Any early thoughts?
Silliness, I know. Yet I'm oddly curious about the subject. I've been wandering around TPM for well over a year, and have always wondered why some people choose a photo (is it actually them?), some a character (their favorite?), some an animal (theirs? reincarnation?) and some none at all. It is often those that challenge my curiosity the most. Perhaps they don't really care to be personalized ... perhaps they never gave it a thought.
Mine? I looked around different avatar sites after having been here a while, I was clueless about the whole process. I came upon the one I use accidentally - but it just hit me as perfect. I see myself watching my life as I walk down a solitary road, winding and never-ending. Always searching for the meaning just around the next bend. Barefooted.
Yep, silliness. So leave it alone and it will disappear into the vault of the useless thread. No matter. Or tell me what you were feeling when you decided on the perfect personification of yourself - whether it was long ago or yesterday.
September eleventh, two thousand and one.
Why does the idea of closing Gitmo look good on paper, but seems impossible in practice? We loved the idea when it was simply that ... yet what to do with the terrorists (we all know they are, deep down) when they might end up on our soil? God forbid. Not in my back yard. Just leave things the way they are, I'd really rather not think about it.
Torture? No, we don't do that unless we need to - and what, pray tell, if we didn't? It's a terrible thing that we're all naturally against as good and honest working folk, but we must be careful. If we don't force them to tell us things how else will we find out? After all, they are all out to kill us, and the professionals are protecting us. Just leave things the way they are, I'd really rather not think about it.
Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose.
Losing when you've given it your best can be a very good thing. If the winner has done the same during a fair fight there is much to be said for the game. Shake hands and acknowledge the challenge, nod and move on with respect for a job well done on both sides.
Winning when the adversary has a team and you're a solo player is a bit different. You may have a few cheerleaders and fill some seats in the bleachers, but you're likely down for the count. Unless you play not to win ... but to change the game. To expand the margins and question the established rules. To question the very purpose of the combat. For then - you're no longer a participant, you are a reason for enlightenment. And achievement becomes an art, a dance between two opposing attractions.
Sadly - too many things, people, are lost without a fair fight. Yet there is much to be learned by the endeavour. Perhaps the future is the ultimate umpire.
Hi there, come on in. No, don't get too close ... I really don't feel good. Thank you, and I feel worse than I look. It's one of those stomach flu viruses that pops up now and again when you're an unsuspecting victim. Translation: turn around and run.
So here I sit alone, feeling like death warmed over but proud that I'm saving the world from further infection. I work the desk at an oceanfront motel, as many of you know, and it's really freaking busy at this time of the year. Which means that I meet, greet and warmly welcome lots of folks into the fold every day. Tonight I am cursing them all - since I don't know which one of the insolent bastards decided to share this with me. Don't tell my Mom I said bastards. Please. When I'm sick I revert to a child and really worry about things like that.
Things like the ashtray under the bed or the bong in the closet. The ding in the fender and the scratch on the door. The bonfire my friends and I started that required the assistance of the friendly neighborhood fire department or the upchucking into the porcelain god of parties gone wild. Mental note - do not say "upchucking". Excuse me for a moment.
The lights are low, the music is soft and I'm in the ugly blue chair with my feet tucked up underneath me and my arms wrapped around a pillow. And I'm sick. I've even had to abandon my cheap Zin for some tea that Wendy left. It's a comfort, as is the thought that you're all out there feeling wonderful and having fun. Even though I'm alone, I'm wondering ... what are you doing tonight?
Hi there, come on in. Another long and exhausting day full of vitriol, heartbreak and angst. At least if you watched the news or spent much time on-line. If you were lucky enough to explore the rest of what life has to offer perhaps you were able to manage a smile. Find yourself a seat somewhere while I get you whatever you need. Like it? It is soothing, I agree. Perhaps not a perfect fit for everyone, but sometimes gentle music can lead to peaceful thoughts ... and the immeasurably important deep breath. Before you get settled, add something to the queue for the evening - a song or two or a favorite movie, your choice. As always.
I heard a slight sound and decided to investigate ... even dreams are worth exploration. Oh! Hi there, come on in. Or back away from the doorway, if you choose. Display your voice or remain silent, it's really up to you. I'm here whether you are or not. If you decide to join me, know that you are welcome no matter the circumstances of your arrival nor the time of day. My living room is open to you whenever you need a place to land after a long and eventful day or night; the sofa awaits. When you need to breathe, to close your eyes and let the world pass for just a moment. We might be friends - we might be strangers who haven't crossed paths thus far. Nevertheless, I hope you find a piece of home here with me. Or a piece of whatever you need.
You. Why do you hesitate? Like a skiddish cat, you resist my offer of friendship even as you cling to the frame around the door.
Mr. President, Chancellor Merkel, Bertrand, ladies and gentlemen. As I came here today it was actually a way of coming and visit my father's grave -- but he had no grave. His grave is somewhere in the sky. This has become in those years the largest cemetery of the Jewish people.
The day he died was one of the darkest in my life. He became sick, weak, and I was there. I was there when he suffered. I was there when he asked for help, for water. I was there to receive his last words. But I was not there when he called for me, although we were in the same block; he on the upper bed and I on the lower bed. He called my name, and I was too afraid to move. All of us were. And then he died. I was there, but I was not there.
And I thought one day I will come back and speak to him, and tell him of the world that has become mine. I speak to him of times in which memory has become a sacred duty of all people of good will -- in America, where I live, or in Europe or in Germany, where you, Chancellor Merkel, are a leader with great courage and moral aspirations.
What can I tell him that the world has learned? I am not so sure. Mr. President, we have such high hopes for you because you, with your moral vision of history, will be able and compelled to change this world into a better place, where people will stop waging war -- every war is absurd and meaningless; where people will stop hating one another; where people will hate the otherness of the other rather than respect it.
But the world hasn't learned. When I was liberated in 1945, April 11, by the American army, somehow many of us were convinced that at least one lesson will have been learned -- that never again will there be war; that hatred is not an option, that racism is stupid; and the will to conquer other people's minds or territories or aspirations, that will is meaningless.
I was so hopeful. Paradoxically, I was so hopeful then. Many of us were, although we had the right to give up on humanity, to give up on culture, to give up on education, to give up on the possibility of living one's life with dignity in a world that has no place for dignity.
We rejected that possibility and we said, no, we must continue believing in a future, because the world has learned. But again, the world hasn't. Had the world learned, there would have been no Cambodia and no Rwanda and no Darfur and no Bosnia.
Will the world ever learn? I think that is why Buchenwald is so important -- as important, of course, but differently as Auschwitz. It's important because here the large -- the big camp was a kind of international community. People came there from all horizons -- political, economic, culture. The first globalization essay, experiment, were made in Buchenwald. And all that was meant to diminish the humanity of human beings.
You spoke of humanity, Mr. President. Though unto us, in those times, it was human to be inhuman. And now the world has learned, I hope. And of course this hope includes so many of what now would be your vision for the future, Mr. President. A sense of security for Israel, a sense of security for its neighbors, to bring peace in that place. The time must come. It's enough -- enough to go to cemeteries, enough to weep for oceans. It's enough. There must come a moment -- a moment of bringing people together.
And therefore we say anyone who comes here should go back with that resolution. Memory must bring people together rather than set them apart. Memories here not to sow anger in our hearts, but on the contrary, a sense of solidarity that all those who need us. What else can we do except invoke that memory so that people everywhere who say the 21st century is a century of new beginnings, filled with promise and infinite hope, and at times profound gratitude to all those who believe in our task, which is to improve the human condition.
A great man, Camus, wrote at the end of his marvelous novel, The Plague: "After all," he said, "after the tragedy, never the rest...there is more in the human being to celebrate than to denigrate." Even that can be found as truth -- painful as it is -- in Buchenwald.
Thank you, Mr. President, for allowing me to come back to my father's grave, which is still in my heart.
- Elie Wiesel 06/06/09
I truly have nothing of worth to add.
These spam "blogs" have got to stop. They are pushing real reader posts off the list and demeaning the site in general. Is anyone watching the store?
Speaking of stores, it's interesting that when you click on the current Viagra hawker's user name you are almost immediately directed to the website. Someone knows what they're doing.
Hi there, come on in. I know the place is a mess, care to help clean it up? There's a glass or two of cheap Zin in it for you. I've a few other varieties, as well as some beer, soda and coffee. It does smell good, doesn't it? What? Oh, I'm sorry! Second door on the left ... just yell if there's no toilet paper, I watched a sad movie just before I left last time. Don't worry, I have some more somewhere.
Who's taking on the music duty tonight? You know I can't since my hands will be full of your words as I place them in my heart. Full-time job, that. Anyway, I'm off to find some plastic glasses and some paper plates for the crackers and cheese. Anyone want peanuts? No, I've got it. I'm afraid a trip inside the frig is called for - and you know what that means. Give me a few extra minutes to hunt down the goggles and gloves. Don't let the green glow worry you ... I've decided it's good for the skin. Hmm? Sure! The ugly blue chair has your name on it, just save me a pillow and a spot at your feet.
I'm musing this morn. Bear with me if you will, if you can abide the rambling thoughts of a woman in flux.
I miss the old days, the days a few of you may remember. More aptly put? I miss the nights spent sharing thoughts, feelings, memories and whatever else grew in between. My bare feet walking along with yours through the stillness. Our hearts and minds merging ... while you laughed with me. While you wandered with me through the world in which we live. The yesterdays, the tomorrows. The today that buried us until we got together and let it go. For just a moment, a simply fragile moment. Moments full of everything and nothing all at once - and what moments they were. In those moments, I learned to breathe.
I found this story, and the proposed legislation, interesting. I happen to be a strong believer in the right to privacy - yet the public's right to know can sometimes take necessary precedence. Where is the line? When does necessity cross over into the realm of sensationalism?
If I call 911, I am not considering the possible ramifications of having my voice and my words broadcast across the airwaves. After all, I'm no one special. But if the operator on the other end of the line doesn't do their job and ends up being investigated - should that make my frantic phone call public? Suppose I think my life is in danger ... I call to report my fears. Suppose I witness another's life being threatened and call to get them help. Anonomously. If the media picks it up as a "hot story", should the transcript/recording of my call be released? My permission would not be required.
I wonder. If I considered all the possible scenarios, would I hesitate to call? Would the person who might save my life by dialing 911 hesitate?
http://amfix.blogs.cnn.com/2009/05/15/ban-911-calls-from-tv/
I have a very simple - some might say simplistic - question. Apparently there are photos of further torture techniques out there that may be eventually released. At some time, in some way. Horrific, vile photographs.
A camera was used ... there was a photographer thinking about centering the shot, getting the light just right, clicking the shutter (not to be confused with shudder) at just the right moment.
Who was it? Who were they? Perhaps more importantly, why was the photographer needed at all? A moment in time is captured (no pun intended) for a reason. We've all done it. Happy Birthday. Surprise! Merry Christmas. You're so cute. Wow, look at that!
We've all laughed at a picture of someone else and said, "This will come back to haunt you one day!", never meaning any harm.
But they did. With every squinted eye they did. Why?
One last post regarding the TPM Chip-in event we organized two weeks ago. To call it a phenomenal success would be the understatement of the year!
The costs that were incurred by seashell and thepeoplechoose have been reimbursed, although there is no amount of money in the world that can repay their generosity of character and spirit. Seashell, take an extended bow.
The long journey The Old Grouch selflessly agreed to undertake in order to tie up loose ends (and the related expenses), turned out to be unnecessary. Truth be told, I think both he and DickDay were disappointed by that fact. Another time, boys.
The remaining funds contributed with so much love and joy have been forwarded to DickDay. Don't tell him I said this, but I see a new pair of burn-hole-free PJ's, a six pack of beer and a carton of cigarettes in his future. Shhh! There he is ... pretend we're talking about something else.
Finally - a personal moment, if I may. Were it not for Face (I don't know how to do an upside-down question mark) none of this would have taken place. He stood up and declared his desire to help, with a clear and succinct idea. Such a simple thing. Yet, in this world of ours, so rare. Because of him, the Cafe banded together and made it happen. Thoughts flew, fingers typed, a community flowered and a life was changed. To have been a part of that miracle is a memory I will treasure forever.
As I will forever treasure you. Thank you.
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