Weimar Falls Indeed

Weimar Falls Indeed My girlfriend came home from work on Wednesday and burst into tears. I consoled her as best I could, tried to assuage her fears of another attack. If their Osama bin Laden and al Qaeda are real, I pointed out, they're much more likely to attack a city in one of the Bush states. Houston, for instance. At the very least, I said, Little Bush and his cronies won't get to quietly ride off into the sunset with the loot. I reminded her of the despair we felt on the heels of Nixon's reelection, and the startling outcome of that event. I recalled for her our mutual dislike of John Kerry and his obscene support of the criminal war on Iraq. I gently suggested that the rank-and-file of the CIA is not likely to forget or forgive this administration for laying the blame for this country's greatest military debacle on the Company, or for the despicable crime of outing Valerie Plame. JFK's sins against the Agency were far less egregious, I noted, and look what happened to him. I took her to see Laibach in Philadelphia. Their totalitarian kunst-machine is the perfect artistic response to our nation's current condition. We enjoyed a meal at Jim's Steaks on South St., purveyors of the finest cheesesteak hoagies on Earth. I've never read Samuel Beckett or Celine. I intend to dive into the works of both in the coming months. I will strive to live as if the present administration were a minor ailment to be ignored-a hemorrhoid.

I've taken to Molson XXX beer, with its rich flavor of hops and 7.3 percent alcohol content. I've lost two inches in my waistline since I started drinking it. Consistent with my adoration of J.G. Ballard's early works, I've started collecting prints of photographs of the motorcade in Dallas. There may be an element of high-tech white-trash hoodoo in this pursuit, not to say wishful thinking. History tends to symmetry, I'll say that.

I'll learn to play Go, a game that's all about surrounding your opponent. I'll spend more time in Vermont, may even relocate there next year under an assumed name. I'll file a Chapter 7 and get out from under my current load of debt. I'll cancel the cable tv and buy a DVD player. I'll get an account with Netflix.

I'll stop reading American newspapers, except for the alternative weeklies. I prefer the Sydney Morning Herald and the majors from the UK, and I intend to stick to them. I'll get a broadband connection.

I'll apologize to Matt Taibbi for the gratuitous swipe I took at his father earlier this year. I'll begin a correspondence with Charles Manson. He's going to be 70 years old this month.

I will do all of these things as I wait for the Empire to fall, all the while hoping that we can resurrect our Constitution and make the transition into our Third Republic without slipping into a savage, bloody civil war.

I took her to see Laibach in Philadelphia. Their totalitarian kunst-machine is the perfect artistic response to our nation's current condition. We enjoyed a meal at Jim's Steaks on South St., purveyors of the finest cheesesteak hoagies on Earth. I've never read Samuel Beckett or Celine. I intend to dive into the works of both in the coming months. I will strive to live as if the present administration were a minor ailment to be ignored-a hemorrhoid.

I've taken to Molson XXX beer, with its rich flavor of hops and 7.3 percent alcohol content. I've lost two inches in my waistline since I started drinking it. Consistent with my adoration of J.G. Ballard's early works, I've started collecting prints of photographs of the motorcade in Dallas. There may be an element of high-tech white-trash hoodoo in this pursuit, not to say wishful thinking. History tends to symmetry, I'll say that.

I'll learn to play Go, a game that's all about surrounding your opponent. I'll spend more time in Vermont, may even relocate there next year under an assumed name. I'll file a Chapter 7 and get out from under my current load of debt. I'll cancel the cable tv and buy a DVD player. I'll get an account with Netflix.

I'll stop reading American newspapers, except for the alternative weeklies. I prefer the Sydney Morning Herald and the majors from the UK, and I intend to stick to them. I'll get a broadband connection.

I'll apologize to Matt Taibbi for the gratuitous swipe I took at his father earlier this year. I'll begin a correspondence with Charles Manson. He's going to be 70 years old this month.

I will do all of these things as I wait for the Empire to fall, all the while hoping that we can resurrect our Constitution and make the transition into our Third Republic without slipping into a savage, bloody civil war.