Mike Gravel's honesty - shocking and refreshing

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A Tenet of Disbelief

** George Tenet's new book kicks back at Cheney/Bush for blaming the Iraq war on his "slam dunk" remark. (See reactions at end)

WASHINGTON, April 26 — George J. Tenet, the former director of central intelligence, has lashed out against Vice President Dick Cheney and other Bush administration officials in a new book, saying they pushed the country to war in Iraq without ever conducting a “serious debate” about whether Saddam Hussein posed an imminent threat to the United States.

The 549-page book, “At the Center of the Storm,” is to be published by HarperCollins on Monday. By turns accusatory, defensive, and modestly self-critical, it is the first detailed account by a member of the president’s inner circle of the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks, the decision to invade Iraq and the failure to find the unconventional weapons that were a major justification for the war.

Complete article here, but may require subscription.

COMMENTARIES
Arianna Huffington: Why didn't he just resign?
From former colleagues at the CIA

The fall of Tom Friedman - to me

**I must confess I have been a fan of Tom Friedman for many years. I read both The Lexus and the Olive Tree and The Earth is Flat and thought they were both insightful and prescient about the new world order powered primarily by the internet and technology. I had casually accepted the premise that it would be a good thing for the Middle East to become democratic. Shame on me. It's easy to assume that what one is used to is easily accepted by people who don't share your background or preferences. But in recent months I've come across commentaries about Friedman that suggest that he isn't the visionary I thought he was. His unqualified promotion of "globalism" seems to ignore the real human costs in favor of unrestrained corporate expansion. The following critique by "Hunter" at dailykos.com strikes me as perceptive and is certainly thought-provoking. But judge for yourself:

Think Progress presents the comedy stylings of Iraq War advocate Tom Friedman:

FRIEDMAN: I’m really sorry. Next time — Next time Ishwar [caller], I promise, I really promise, I’ll be a better liberal. I’ll not in any way support any effort to bring democracy to a country ruled by an oil-backed tyranny. I promise I will never do that again. I promise I’ll be a better liberal. I will view the prospect of Arabs forging a democracy as utterly impossible. They’re incapable of democracy. I agree with you on that now.

Estimates put the number of Iraqi dead above half a million people. Even the most conservative (cough) estimates confess the number to be in the multiple tens of thousands.

That's more people than Thomas Friedman will ever shake hands with in his entire life. That's more people than he will ever exchange direct eye contact with. That's more people than will ever serve him a drink or take his plate away in every speaking arrangement he's ever done and billed for. And every six months (or "Friedman Unit") the number of dead again increases by five figures.

They're dead because Thomas Friedman and people like him thought they had a great idea, and wouldn't listen to any of the experts telling them they were wrong. He was convinced that reforming the Middle East via American military attack would be a brilliant and necessary strategy, convinced by his own goddamn notions of what the Middle East should look like and how many bullets it would take to get it there.

And now he hides behind the notion that the only problem, in all of this, was that the damn liberals wouldn't clap hard enough for the transparently puerile "plan". He doesn't have a problem with any of it, except for the criticism he personally gets as a result of the chaos. No, the whole problem was either that the damn Arabs didn't sufficiently greet us as liberators and get on with reshaping their country according to his plan, or that the liberals had the audacity to point out that his "plan" was idiotic.

What does a naturalist do with "a moment of silence?"

** A thoughtful comment on the Virginia Tech shootings by DagoodS:

Out of respect for the variety of beliefs, we will hear requests for “a moment of silence.” A politically correct notion to allow people to pray to their particular God, or reflect on what has happened. Infuriatingly, I have already seen complaints that a “moment of silence” is a useless acronym, as “silence” does nothing to help.

Yet, in some light, that is true. What benefit does it have for a grieving parent whether I take a moment from my schedule and set it aside just to think about what they experienced? Will this take away an ounce of their grief? Will they gain a gram of comfort, merely because I stopped typing for 60 seconds and reflect? What do I, as a naturalist, think about in that moment of silence?

Equally--will prayer help, either? I am not trying to diminish the effect of prayer, or bring out some statistical study as to whether it helps/does not help. But if there was a God that is so actively involved in the day-to-day events of planet earth that it would modify its intention at the request of a single human—such a God is well aware of yesterday’s tragedies in Virginia, Michigan and around the world. The harsh reality is that a person giving a five minute prayer from Topeka, Kansas will not give new insight to God that people elsewhere need comforting.

The moment of silence; the hour of prayer is primarily for us. It benefits us. It is a comfort for us. Perhaps, in small measure, it will ease some of the burden of those struck hardest, simply to know the rest of the world is taking time of their busy schedule to come together as humans and say two simple words, “We know.” Clearly we have not all experienced the same pain, nor have many of us lost children at such a young age. But we have all had tragedies—friends die, loved ones go astray, relatives become sick and pass away. While we may not ever experience the tremendous amount of agony others are experiencing today, we can share in a small portion, realizing that we have had miseries, and may in the future.

When we might want others to pause for a moment and say, “We know.”

Therefore, I will take time out of my schedule and observe a designated moment of silence. A moment to simply say, “I know.” And within that moment vow to do the best I can to alleviate the pain I see in the world. The pains from yesterday are too large, and too far away for me to help. However there are plenty nearby that I can reduce.

I know that may be of no use to those affected by yesterday. But as a human, it is the best I can offer today.

Doubt and Uncertainty: "It doesn't frighten me"

**I used to think the most important thing in life is finding "ultimates," the absolute truth - as though there's a hidden world that we can crack into and thereby get the answers to all our doubts and fears, and somehow be relieved and happy forever after. Though I tried to live that way a long time, I must also admit that I am an inveterate explorer who accepts no limits on what should be explored. I don't even need to know what's at the end of the line - the journey itself is worth it. In recent years I've come to accept this state of uncertainty and realize that though it can sometimes be stressful, I am not really afraid of being "lost." I know that as long as I'm conscious I'll just work with whatever I have at hand and try to understand it, or at least do something interesting with it.

Richard Feynman won the Nobel Prize in Physics for his research in quantum electrodynamics. He was also a raconteur, artist, bongo player and safe cracker. A collection of his short works, "The Pleasure of Finding Things Out," is a constant source of inspiration for me - and I've quoted from it frequently in this blog. Here's another one about "Doubt and Uncertainty." I don't have Feynman's brain but I have at least a small portion of his spirit:

People say to me, "Are you looking for the ultimate laws of physics?" No, I'm not, I'm just looking to find out more about the world and if it turns out there is a simple ultimate law which explains everything, so be it, that would be very nice to discover...

You see, one thing is, I can live with doubt and uncertainty and not knowing. I think it's much more interesting to live not knowing than to have answers which might be wrong. I have approximate answers and possible beliefs and different degrees of certainty about different things, but I'm not absolutely sure of anything and there are many things I don't know anything about, such as whether it means anything to ask why we're here, and what the question might mean. I might think about it a little bit and if I can't figure it out, then I go on to something else, but I don't have to know an answer, I don't feel frightened by not knowing things, by being lost in a mysterious universe without having any purpose, which is the way it really is so far as I can tell. It doesn't frighten me.

Saint George?

**Not sure this actually happened, but it sure is funny - and at least 99% factual.

President George W. Bush was scheduled to visit the Episcopal Church
outside Washington as part of his campaign to restore his poll
standings.

Bush's campaign manager made a visit to the Bishop, and said to him,
"We've been getting a lot of bad publicity because of the president's
position on stem cell research, the Iraq war, Katrina, and the like.
We'd gladly make a contribution to the church of $100,000 if during
your sermon you'd say the President is a saint."

The Bishop thought it over for a few moments and finally said, "The
Church is in desperate need of funds and I will agree to do it."

Bush showed up for the sermon and the Bishop began:

"I'd like to speak to you all this morning about our President.
George Bush is a liar, a cheat, and a low-intelligence weasel.

He took the tragedy of September 11 and used it to frighten and
manipulate the American people. He lied about weapons of mass
destruction and invaded Iraq for oil and money, causing the deaths of
tens of thousands and making the United States the most hated country
on Earth.

"He appointed cronies to positions of power and influence, leading to
widespread death and destruction during Hurricane Katrina. He awarded
contracts and tax cuts to his rich friends so that we now have more
poverty in this country, and a greater gap between rich and poor, than
we've had since the Depression. He instituted illegal wiretaps when
getting a warrant from a secret court would have been a mere
administrative detail, had his henchmen lie to Congress about it, then
claimed he is above the law.

"He has headed the most corrupt, bribe-inducing political party since
Teapot Dome. The national surplus has turned into a staggering
national debt of 7.6 trillion dollars, gas prices are up 85%, and
vital research into global warming and stem cells is stopped cold
because he's afraid to lose votes from some religious kooks.

"He is the worst example of a true Christian I've ever known.

But compared to Dick Cheney and Karl Rove, George Bush is a saint."

(Thanks to Monty Gaither in Arizona for this)

Musings on music

**An update for myself in the future and for anyone who cares:

In September 2006 I took part in a poetry workshop at Berkeley led by Richard Silberg, did ten weeks there and then joined another workshop, led by Kim Addonizio at her home in Oakland. They were both good experiences for different reasons, and forced me to hack out some bits of poetry, meet some interesting fellow poets and give myself a hell of an editing assignment. Most of those poems aren’t ready for even late night time, so they will undergo revisions, rewritings and scrapping before I venture to make them “public” – if this, the most microscopic audience in the world, can be considered “public.” What I consider done for now appear on my poetry site, couldbeverse.

Toward the end of my second poetry workshop I got involved with the RPM Challenge project, about which I’ve blogged here before. This opened up the long-closed gate of my interest in music. I wrote my first song in high school and had it performed at the Spring Concert, probably in 1957 or 1958. I remember being shoved out on the stage to play the piano by Sister Mary Whoever because Dur Daggett, the school genius pianist, was a no-show. Funnily, the song was called “Memories,” but I can hardly remember it now.

Songwriting remained pretty much dormant until long after college, poetry being my muse in the intervening years. Bought my first guitar from a guy at work who had a music store. Paid $40 and it was worth almost every penny. But I started to learn some Bob Dylan and Beatles on it. In 1968 my wife bought me a real guitar, the one I still have, and about which I wrote the poem “Attachments.” Soon after, I began writing songs and that continued for several years into the 1970s, producing dozens until I got religion in 1976 or 1977. Suddenly all that artistic stuff looked crass and unholy compared with the lofty goals and mission I had taken on. So songwriting remained more or less dormant for the next thirty years and the songs, typed or scrawled on yellow paper mostly, lived in the back of the lowest draw of the least used file cabinet. I had also recorded most of them on some reel-to-reel tape machines I owned at various times. I have boxes of these and until February of 2007 hadn’t listened to them. But I still had an old Wollensak kicking around and got it working well enough to listen to some of those songs. That led quickly into the RPM Challenge project.

But my interest in songwriting has flared up and I am involved with music again as in the old days. These days I’m concentrating for the most part on recording some of my oldies, using the wonderful technology available to the layman today. Some of them are just tunes, so now and then I take a crack at writing lyrics to them.

ENTER RED HOUSE

I met John Cunningham at Fitness 19 where I had been working with him as a personal trainer. We discovered our mutual interest in music and began jamming on Friday nights at my place. John laid down awesome lead guitar tracks to two songs I was producing for the RPM project.

Then one day he told me about a place in Walnut Creek, just 8 or 9 miles from here, where guys like us could go and jam. It’s called Red House. We visited it one Saturday and a week later joined. It has been a great experience for me. John and I meet there instead at my place and have a couple hours to jam in a beautifully equipped studio. I made a brief video last Friday, which you can see here.

But the big breakthrough for me has come from playing in a group, something I have always wanted to do, but the logistics posed formidable obstacles – and excuses. Now, with Red House providing a gathering place for musicians I find I’m playing a lot more. Apparently most of the members play blues lead guitar, and there seems to be few keyboard players. There are several “Players Clubs” where members can jam on the Red House stage. Next to guitarists there are several drummers and bass players so there’s always a core rhythm section and people take turns paling a couple songs on stage. I have found myself expanding that rhythm section on keyboards. And the neat part is that I get to sit in on all the sessions! So I’m getting more experience playing, and having the fun of interacting with the other players.

Will this lead to a whole new career? No. Being now of a certain age, I can do this sort of thing for the sheer pleasure of it without the slightest trace of guilt. Being “retired” means not only never having to say “hello Boss,” but not having to defer doing what really resonates for the sake of earning a buck. I didn’t feel this way when I was first let go from my job. I felt I had been cut off from the most satisfying work I’ve every had. It took about a year to realize that I had been handed one huge favor and, useless as it is, I am loving my life.

Where I go from here is completely unknown to me. More of the same, something new or all of the above? No plans other than to stay healthy, appreciate what I have and look for new opportunities.