Wrong Reasons, Right Conclusion

I noticed a problem in my house. There are spiders in the attic. Big, creepy, crawly spiders. As a matter of fact I am certain they are poisonous brown recluse spiders. I know this for two compelling reasons. One, there is the corpse of a small bear in a pile of my sisters old stuff. Two, I know that brown recluse spiders have a penchant for hanging out in warm, well-lit spaces.

Brown recluse spiders represent a clear and present danger to the rest of the household. It is clear what I must do. I bring together the rest of the family and attempt to urge them into action to remove this spider menace from our house. Surprisingly they are unmoved. I walk them slowly and persuasively through the dead bear and the habitat arguments, but try as I might I can't get them to go along with me. Eventually I am forced to act. I set a large fire in the basement.

So now it's an hour later, the house is a mass of flames and frankly the fire department isn't having much luck with it. Astonishingly the family seems to be pissed at me. In retrospect they are right and what I presumed to be a dead bear was actually a stuffed bear that had never really been alive. And yes technically brown recluse spiders actually like cool dark spaces so maybe my spiders weren't poisonous after all. So the reasons for setting fire to the house were dead wrong, but that's beside the point. Clearly those spiders in some way represented a unique threat. They had to be dealt with regardless of the cost. Yes there are a lot of spiders in a lot of people's houses, but were not talking about them. We're talking about my spiders and you have to admit the world is better off without them. Right?

What Goes Around

I have watched with amusement Tom DeLay's pretrial shenanigans in Texas. The law is always somewhat humorous and add to this the spectacle of the neighborhood bully finally reaping some karma. Yesterday his lawyer successfully got the judge in the case recused because the judge was, get this, too Democratic to fairly try Mr. DeLay. I remember thinking at the time what's the reductio ad absurdum on this one? Democrats can't try Republicans and Republicans can't try Democrats because of undue bias. But wait, this means Republicans can't try Republicans and Democrats can't try Democrats either because of undo favoritism. Had I blogged at the time I would have been proven prescient. Today the prosecutor got the new judge, a staunch Republican, recused for exactly this reason. I think the only fair thing to do is move the whole darn trial to a place where they don't give a whit about either of our political parties. Maybe Syria. Any Texas boy should love it because Syria also fully embraces the death penalty. "I find the defendant guilty. The jury may fire when ready."

Where this will all wind up is the Texas Supreme Court. Politically they lay a little to the right of Darth Vader and will likely see no problem with DeLay presiding over his own trial. This is not particularly awful because the judge's power in this case is somewhat limited. The jury has the final say and this is where it gets really good. The trial is being held in the city of Austin. Because of DeLay's own aggressive gerrymandering this district is 99.99% Democratic. His second pretrial motion, still pending, is for a change of venue. The argument is similar. There are just too many Democrats around there to render an impartial verdict. I can't see any judge with two synapses to rub together (which leaves out only Clarence Thomas) being able to grant this motion with a straight face. Besides I firmly believe that God has a rich sense of irony and won't let it happen. Forget baseball, this is going to be one fine spectator sport!

Outsourced Intelligence

NEW ORLEANS, United States (AFP) -
"What I was referring to is this: When that storm came by, a lot of people said we dodged a bullet," Bush said.

"And I myself thought we had dodged a bullet. You know why? Because I was listening to people probably over the airwaves say, 'The bullet has been dodged.' And that was what I was referring to," he said.

Sunday afternoon, White House situation room:

Bush: "Well it looks like that Katrina, Tina, Tinker Tina has all run out o' gas. What d'ya got?"

CIA: "We've been carefully monitoring Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network and I'm afraid we've come up empty.

Bush: "Some of them Sponge Bobs might just come in handy, heh, heh."

CIA: "Good one, sir."

NSA: "Fox News says New Orleans dodged a bullet, the hurricane should have no effect on the Natalie Holloway story, and apparently sir you are still a frickin genius."

Bush: "Aw, shucks. Dickie?"

Chenney: "Current estimates range anywhere from 2 to 14 billion dollars."

Bush: "Estimates of what?"

Chenney: "The amount of money we can funnel to Halliburtun in the form of disaster relief."

Bush: "I see."

Chenney: "It does depend somewhat on the size of the actual disaster, of course."

Bush: "Anyone else?"

FBI: "We've been carefully monitoring the Weather Channel and the Sci Fi Network and we believe the south is in much bigger danger from radio active alligators and a alien androids made to look like humans than any storm."

Bush: "Got that from the Weather Channel, did ya?"

FBI: "No, sir. We'll be looking at that real soon now. Our agents just find weather a little too boring, sir. I believe Special Agent McMorris just lost the coin flip so he should be reporting back on this in the next few days."

Mike Brown: "It looks like a couple of races in Kentucky and Tennessee might have to be delayed, but we're carefully monitoring the situation."

Bush: "Races?"

Mike Brown: "Horse races, sir. Can't run them in the rain, you know."

Bush: "Right. Hey, didn't some of y'all used to have agents and informants scattered around? You know, looking at things for themselves and reporting back? I reckon I remember something about hollow shoes and really small fish..."

[Embarrassed silence. A couple of feet tap.]

Bush: "Tiny satellite radios?"

[A soft whistling can be heard.]

Bush: "How about friends and relatives you could call?"

[Shuffling papers. Nervous coughs.]

Bush: "Very well then. Beer and bratts at 5:00. Keep up the good work."

A Martini for Dave

In my weekly martini, okay sometimes biweekly, I am a traditionalist. I have tried sour apple, orange, dirty, mint, and even Girl Scout (not made with real Girl Scouts). They are all right and in the proper mood sometimes they even tickle the very spot. However, I believe they are largely a fad and long after sour apples are deemed fit only for pie people will return to the one true martini: lota gin, smidgen of vermouth, shake the begeebers out of it with ice, and decant into a glass with two or three pimento stuffed olives. The number of olives is the one area where I feel a degree of personal expression can safely be allowed. This was my view until last night. We were at our favorite pizza spot, Proto's, when a martini crossed my line of vision. It was the color of a late sunset and looked for all the world like those foo-foo, fake martinis that I habitually ignore. But something about it was different. Perhaps it was the color or perhaps it was the way he olive spoke to me at it passed "Get a load of me, meatbag."

"What was that?" I asked.

Our super terrific server replied, "You don't know?! That's our Sicilian Martini. It was practically invented with you in mind." This is not just words, mind you. She knows me well enough to be a good judge of such things.

"Well, bring it on then."

A Sicilian is vodka (any kind -- ethanol and water is always ethanol and water and anyone who says otherwise has way too much money and should give some of it to me), a splash of Bloody Mary mix, and, be still my heart, an anchovy-stuffed olive. Words cannot do justice to the flavor of skin-removing liquor combined a truly intense vegetable melange and infused with the all that is holy about the ocean. It is all but one of my favorite foods served up in a wildly impractical glass. If I could just figure out a way to work some beef into it I would have a great start to my very own diet sensation! People would order these by the gross because my book would tell them to, but would be unable to drink them because no one other than myself and the mysterious woman in the thick glasses who ordered one last night can stomach the thought of one. I would have it all: book royalties and enough left-over Sicilian Martinis to allow me to forget the shame of duping the American public for fun and profit.

Just Don't Leave

BAGHDAD, Iraq (DF)

During a weekend break of the committee drafting the new Iraqi constitution, George Bush made a surprise recess appointment for the Alabama state constitution to fill the role. The president from his perch atop a mountain bike said, "I figure if it is good enough for one batch of gun-totin' religious extremists it oughta be good for another." When reminded that his recess appointment power didn't extend to Iraq or to constitutions for that matter he replied, "Talk to the Marines, cause the pres don't wanna hear it. I've got to get on with my life and with my bike ride."

Beast Versus Beast

In the aftermath of hurricane Dennis it becomes clear that the damage was nowhere near what had been feared. For an explanation we turn to FEMA spokesman Buck Chaser.

DF: Buck?

Buck: We are really relieved. This could have been much worse.

DF: How do you explain the lack of damage?

Buck: As you know forecasting hurricanes is a tricky business, but as near as we can figure the effects of this storm were blunted by the cable networks.

DF: Come again?

Buck: We've got thousands of reporters down here from Fox News to Outdoor Life. While the volume of hot air did strengthen Dennis initially, the shear mass of bodies along the beaches reduced the wind speed and held back the worst of the storm surge. These guys are like self-stacking sand bags. I've never seen anything like it.

DF: How can you account for this effect in the future?

Buck: Clearly we need to go back to the models. It's tricky though. We were lucky this time coming between the lack of breaking news from Aruba before wildfire season really heats up. It's also the middle of summer reruns. If this had happened during the World Series or American Idol finals Penscola probably would have been flattened.

Alternative Fuel

People sometimes ask me why I seem hostile to alternative medicine. I have come to accept that I am at least somewhat, but no more so than to all other areas of human behavior where stupidity wins out over reason. Is calling it stupidity a bit harsh? Not really. Medicine, as it is practiced in the Western world, is those things which have been demonstrated to promote health. Safe and effective are the watch words. Alternative medicine, by definition, must be something else. Either it is not safe, not effective, or neither. Given a choice between medicine and not-medicine, how can opting for the latter be considered anything other than stupid? And don't give me that crap that doctors don't prescribe herbs because they can't make money off them. Every doctor I have ever gone to told me to eat right, sleep right, exercise every day, and get plenty of fluids. If the medical establishment were only in it for the money why would they dispense such patently unprofitable advice?

Fortunately I thought of the perfect idea to coax the alternativists back towards common sense. The next time you hear someone buying some remedy they heard about on Oprah, or at the beauty salon, or from tabloid, suggest they buy two: one for them and one for their car.

"If you take a gram of St. John's Wort, put a gram in your gas tank as well."

"But that's nuts. I might kill my engine!"

And that's just the point, isn't it. There are a bunch of people on this planet who would rather risk their own life than their car. Stupid? Yes. Given a straight up choice I'd rather put Ginko Biloba in my gas tank than in my mouth. I can always buy a new car.

I figure one of two things will happen. Either this approach will work and the snakeoil salesmen will be banished back to their caves, or I've got a new career ahead of me. Alternative Car Medicine. I can see the book titles now. Ten Things Exxon Does Not Want You To Know! Clean Dirty Injectors with Catnip Extract! Improve Your Gas Mileage with Nigerian Seaweed! Extend the Life of Your Brake Pads with Coconut Oil! If I can get the same legal untouchability as the food supplement industry I could make a killing. Probably literally.