Bush’s “Wag The Dog” presidency

Further to Sarah’s post about films that help make sense of George Bush’s presidency, another film that should be required viewing for anyone trying to make sense of Bush’s America is the movie, “Wag The Dog.”  As entertainment, it’s a disappointing movie; but, as political commentary, it utterly anticipates George Bush’s presidency.

The movie, released in early 1998 (note the proximity to the beginning of Bush’s first presidential campaign), is set in modern times, and is about an American president running for re-election.  A scandal occurs immediately before the election that threatens to cripple the President’s campaign, but before the scandal can undermine the President’s chances, his political advisors realize that the best way to win re-election is to divert public attention away from the scandal by creating an even bigger story:  a war.  So, they set out to manufacture a war.

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Is God merely an imaginary friend for adults?

Earlier this week, I was watching one of the Christian-content religious channels on television (there are two such 'church channels' in my city) and I was listening to the televangelist say that "even if you have no friends in this world, God will be your friend."  Immediately after hearing these…

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Wither Thou Goest…

Since the trial in Dover, PA over Intelligent Design, it must be obvious hat nothing was really settled other than a specific legal question.  I think it would be a good idea for every one interested in this issue to find and read the decision handed down by the judge. …

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Benjamin Franklin’s essay about Native Americans

Erich’s post about George Washington and not prejudging the opposition reminded me of a superb essay written by Benjamin Franklin about Native Americans, titled: “Remarks Concerning the Savages of North America” (1784). The essay is reproduced below and I think it illustrates why Mr. Franklin is considered one of America’s most important individuals.

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Savages we call them, because their manners differ from ours, which we think the perfection of civility; they think the same of theirs.

Perhaps, if we could examine the manners of different nations with impartiality, we should find no people so rude, as to be without any rules of politeness; nor any so polite, as not to have some remains of rudeness.

The Indian men, when young, are hunters and warriors, when old, counselors; for all their government is by counsel of the sages; there is no force, there are no prisons, no officers to compel obedience, or inflict punishment. Hence they generally study oratory, the best speaker having the most influence. The Indian women till the ground, dress the food, nurse and bring up the children, and preserve and hand down to posterity the memory of public transactions. These employments of men and women are accounted natural and honorable. Having few artificial wants, they have abundance of leisure for improvement by conversation. Our laborious manner of life, compared with theirs, they esteem slavish and base; and the learning, on which we value ourselves, they regard as frivolous and useless. An instance of this occurred at …

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Balancing Moral Dilemmas on Top of Our Everyday STUFF

Interesting missive, that moral rules, dirty secret, thing.  Got me thinking.  I am one of those people with too much stuff.  I’m also one of those people who would just as soon give money or time to kids on the other side of the world as pay my own bills, but that’s a different problem altogether.  Let’s call it a problem with authority, and we’ll just visit that one some other time.

I’m on mission right now to rid my life of stuff.  If you entered my house at this point, you’d laugh at how, thus far, I haven’t fared particularly well in this area.  Stuff has sort of taken over.  None of it is particularly expensive or luxurious stuff, just stuff.  I have kids.  They like stuff.  ‘Nuff said.

In figuring out how to rid our lives of the extraneous junk and the stress it inevitably causes – particularly when it trips me up in the middle of the night causing swear words to wake my children – I’m faced with a choice.  Sell it, trash it or donate it. 

Trashing some of it is a favor to all involved – junk is a kind word to describe much of the effluvia of childhood.  Small plastic things, 40 drawings of essentially the very same flower, more small plastic things, pieces of other things we’re sure we’ll find the rest of eventually, single socks (even a shoe or two) in a house full of bi-peds but surely-the-mates-are-here-somewhere-and-if-I-toss-this-one-I’ll-immediately-find-the-other; hey look, more …

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