Casual Casualities
All right, I know I'm going to come across as a heartless warmongering baby killer here, but that's only because I'm a heartless warmongering baby killer. Well, not really, but you can pretend if you wish.
Listen, yes, this war is translating into civilian casualties. We knew going in that this would be the case. Mothers would die. Fathers would die. Children would die. Puppies and kittens would die. And, hopefully, Saddam Hussein would die in a spray of crimson and moustache. And, yes, the Iraqi leadership, lacking a military capable of winning a physical war with the U.S., is doing their best to win the propaganda war. That means we're going to be treated to pictures of dead civilians every day, compliments of Al Jazeera and any other media outlet that Iraq leaks photos to.
Of course, the anti-war protestors lap this stuff up like its candy, using it as background noise while staging their moronic "die ins" and whatever other grand theatrical show that gets them on television. They hold up these pictures as proof that the U.S. military, and its bombing raids, are tearing through the Iraqi citizenry with reckless abandon, and they yell and scream that precision bombing is a farce. Riiiiggght (insert Dr. Evil inflection). As soon as the U.S. decides to fire up their B-52s and conduct carpet bombing assaults on Baghdad, then come and talk to me. When we start gunning down civilians rather than bandaging their wounds, give me a call. When soldiers start playing games of keep-away with shipments of humanitarian aid, perhaps I'll raise an eyebrow. Then, and only then, will I re-consider my pro-war stance.
As an Iraqi ex pat recently pointed out, war kills civilians, but Saddam's regime kills civilians on a daily basis anyway. The irony in the anti-war stance here is that they can't, or won't, see that point. Apparently, if the U.S. accidentally kills Iraqi civilians, it's a tragedy and a crime of the highest order, but if Saddam and his cronies kill for the fun of it, well, that's not our problem.
We're up against an enemy that wears U.S. uniforms to attack our troops and visit misery, rape and torture on their own people so they can blame the U.S. An enemy that puts military targets in the middle of heavily populated areas knowing full well they're going to get bombed. An enemy that runs command and control operations from hospitals. An enemy that snaps pictures of dead civilians that they don't actually give a rat's ass about, but they know it makes good PR.
In WWII, London, Berlin and Tokyo were all bombed to atomized mist with no regard for the populations being decimated below. Now we're doing our best to put the population in high regard, and we're somehow the bad guy? Anti-war factions have no idea how restrained the U.S. military is in its use of force on Iraq.
I admit that the loss of civilians is unfortunate, but I'm certainly not going to dwell on it or lose sleep over it. We're at war.
Cruising Into The Weekend
Where the hell did this week go? It never fails; I come back from vacation and I'm confronted with a heap of work that takes two weeks to dig myself out of. Wasn't yesterday Monday? Who knows? The most disconcerting aspect of writing for this magazine is that our production schedule is months ahead, so I'm writing copy right now for June and July. In other words, when I come into work each day, I magically warp ahead to the middle of summer. Then, at the end of the day, I exit IBM and am immediately transported back to March. It fucks with the head, let me tell you.
I went out to the bar last night with my good friend, Marc, who is coming off a breakup with the most self-absorbed, icky woman I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. For the past year (or longer, I can't remember), Marc practically disappeared from sight, so wrapped up with that, excuse me, BITCH, that he didn't have time for friends or family. Marc asked me early on in the relationship what I thought of her, and I told him, in my "subtle as a chainsaw" way, that I would rather scour my eyes with a brillo pad than listen to her prattle on endlessly about herself. Marc didn't take my assessment too well, but I'll be damned if I'll ever allow a friend to get involved with a horror and not speak my mind on the issue.
Well, anyway, last night Marc actually asked me why I never mentioned how much I hated her. WhowhatwhenwhereWHA?! It just goes to show that love (or the illusion of it), can blind and deafen anyone to anything. I love Melissa, but it frightens me to think how much reality I may be missing because I unconsciously decide to "ignore" it.
But, my, I'm coming off as a sour Sally in this post, so I should lighten it up just a tad. So, some good news. Last night during my hapkido class, I was informed that, because we have Korean grand masters coming to our studio to instruct us in June, our testing schedule will be moved up so we can test with the grand masters. In other words, I'll be testing for my black belt a full five months ahead of schedule. Hot diggity damn! This makes me so happy I'm about to soil myself. *pause to soil myself*
I'm ever so close to being a black belt! After over ten years of assorted martial arts training, from aikido, to kuk sool won, to taekwondo, to hapkido, I'm finally, FINALLY, on the verge of a black belt. I have so many different colored belts scattered around my apartment, and at my parents' home, you'd think I was in charge of my own personal martial arts studio. Sweet, wonderful, black belt status. *grggllgglgllgll*
I'm heading to St. Paul after work tonight. Mel is moving into her new apartment and getting out of that attic apartment that looks like something straight out of The Amityville Horror. The sweet part is that all the moving is pretty much done. I don't have to lift a heavy bookcase, or a bed, or a marble bathtub, or The Statue of David. It's all been done already! Oh, sweet, sweet girlfriend. She DOES know what I want for Christmas! All that is expected of me is to do some clean-up of her old place so she can get her deposit back, and I get to put together her new bookcase, which I'm totally fine with.
So, on to the weekend!
Trying. . .Not. . .To. . .Think. . .Of. . .The. . .WAR
Obviously, this war is EVERYWHERE. You can't turn it off. Even if it's not in front of you in the form of television, print, Internet, or the person sitting near you at a bar yammering endlessly about the war while you try to concentrate simply on a tall frosty beer, it's in your head. Always. It's there.
Of course, it should be. We're witnessing one of those defining moments in history that deserves to be discussed and analyzed and reported on. But, still, it would be nice to have a non-war padded cell I could retreat to once in awhile, a place where I can think of innocent things like naked women and video games. That would be sweet.
As it is, I find it difficult to even concentrate on work. I keep clicking back to the Internet to see if there have been any major war developments. Have we taken Basra? Have we used a MOAB yet? Would an Iraqi woman date me? Why wouldn't she date me? Why are her standards so high? What about a one-night stand? Would she be up for that? Would she be willing to stroke my MOAB (mother of all boners) in Basra?
But even more than the 24/7 coverage and war tune playing in my head, I'm amazed at just how galvanized the camps have become for those in support of the war and those who oppose it. Some who oppose the war go so far as to say that American troops are simply "baby killers," as if the U.S. military's sole purpose on this planet is to bayonette all infants through the ears. Give me a break. But, on the other side, I occasionally hear someone in the pro-war camp talk about nuking Baghdad and any other pocket of resistance. That's disturbing. I mean, I totally support this war, and I think the U.S. military has so far shown remarkable restraint when it comes to carrying out this operation. But it bothers me when others in the pro-war camp seem to see this as a clean-up assault that should leave the entire country of Iraq a smoldering pile of turbans.
The other day my roommate, Amy, a hair stylist, related to me the opinion of one of her salon's patrons. This woman actually asked, "And what about all the oil we're supposed to get out of this deal? We should be killing them before they burn the oil wells." I didn't ask Amy what the woman drove, but I imagine it's the biggest SUV on the market, complete with a cup holder big enough to hold the quarts of Valvoline she drinks on the way to work.
It just goes to show that people on both sides just simply don't get it, and it burns my ears every time I hear an ignorant yelp from either side, and there's a lot of ignorant yelping going on, and it all just ends up in my head where I'm unable to shake it loose, and it all just bounces around my neurons resonating "Waaaaarrrrr" all the diddily ding dong damn day.
Chevy Forced To Defend Slogan
Automaker Insists It's "Like A Rock," Not "Like Iraq"
DETROIT, Mich. (Rhodes Media Services) -- Following a backlash of unexpected criticism in the marketplace, American automaker Chevrolet was forced to explain to an outraged American public that its treasured slogan is actually "Like A Rock," not "Like Iraq," an accusation leveled earlier in the month by rival automaker, Ford.
At a hastily convened press conference, Kurt Ritter, Chevrolet's marketing general manager, fielded questions from reporters representing media outlets from around the nation.
"I can assure you that this is all just a big misunderstanding," said Ritter. "We don't want our high quality vehicles to be associated in any way with Saddam Hussein or the ongoing war in Iraq. So, let me just underscore, right off the bat, that our slogan is 'Like. . .A. . .Rock."
Some journalists in the reporting pool remained skeptical. Reporter Jim Dwyer of the New York Times asked for further clarification.
"So, let's just be totally clear here," said Dwyer. "You're saying that your vehicles are, in fact, similar to granite boulders, and are not necessarily analogous to a war torn country under an oppressive dictatorial regime. Is that correct?"
Although Ritter took issue with comparing Chevrolet vehicles with granite boulders, he admitted that, essentially, Dwyer's clarification was correct.
Newsworthy Gadgets
I like gadgets. Gadgets are fun. Just looking around my desk right now I see a pen with a miniature massager on one end, a tiny MP3 player that provides music when I run, and a calculator which I use for calculating things.
A cellular phone is one gadget I do not own, and I will resist owning one until that Verizon guy tackles me, forces a phone into my ear, and asks "can you hear me now." Then, and only then, will I surrender to the world of the cellular phone. Why do I distrust cellular phones so much? Because they kill people, specifically Kenyans.
According to a March 14 Reuters news report out of Nairobi, Kenya, three Kenyans died trying to retrieve a mobile phone that slipped down an open-pit latrine while its owner answered a call of nature.
Now, I'm just guessing here, but if I were to own a cellular phone, and it fell into a latrine, I'd more than likely just give it up for lost. There are certain things I won't do, and talking into a phone that I know was once laying at the bottom of a latrine is top among them.
Anxious to recover her phone, the owner in the coastal town of Mombasa offered 1,000 shillings ($13.09) to anyone who would recover it. Well over half the Kenyan population of 30 million people lives on less than $1 a day.
Okay, everything has been set up here. We have a cellular phone at the bottom of a latrine, and we have 15 million Kenyans who view 1,000 shillings as a small fortune. Let the Mayhem ensue!
The first to try -- a 30-year-old radio technician -- failed to resurface after disappearing down a ladder into the latrine. His friend went after him but slipped and fell. The third casualty, trying to rescue the others, was hauled out of the pit by neighbors after he inhaled the fumes and lost consciousness. The man was rushed to a hospital but died on the way.
All of this is pretty incredible by itself, but what's even more incredible is that a fourth man, also wishing to retrieve the phone, had to be restrained by police before the search for the phone was finally abandoned. Therefore, I am steadfast in my resolve to resist buying a cellular phone. If for no other reason, I do so for the Kenyans.
But human to human interaction gadgets are old news. When it comes to human conversation, we pretty much have things covered. What we need is a good gadget for communicating with dogs. And, as luck would have it, such a gadget actually exists.
According to a March 22 Reuters news report out of Atlanta, Ga., a Japanese toy maker claims to have developed a gadget that translates dog barks into human language and plans to begin selling the product -- under the name Bowlingual -- in U.S. pet stores, gift shops and retail outlets this summer.
I don't know about you, but whenever I encounter a dog barking ferociously at me from behind a fence, I don't necessarily want to know what that dog is saying to me. I'm pretty sure that most dogs, when they bark, are actually firing our some pretty awful insults.
AVERAGE DOG: Bark, bark, woof, bark, barkity bark bark, woofity bark barkity bark!
TRANSLATION: Hey you! Yeah, you, you bipedal, clothes wearing freak! Come over here! I dare you! You see these teeth?! Yeah, you see them?! These teeth want a piece of your leg! No, they want your WHOLE leg! Bring it on, human boy! Rover's in da house!
Bowlingual consists of a 3-inch long wireless microphone that attaches to a dog collar and transmits sounds to a palm-sized console that is linked to a database. The console classifies each woof, yip or whine into six emotional categories -- happiness, sadness, frustration, anger, assertion and desire -- and displays common phrases, such as 'You're ticking me off,' that fit the dog's emotional state.
Imagine, if you will: you're walking down a street at night, when suddenly a large dog comes out of nowhere and starts running directly at you. Mixed in with the dog's menacing barks and growls, you hear a computerized voice stating "you're ticking me off" over and over and over again. That would scare the bejeezers out of me.
Other linguistic gems programmed into Bowlingual include "I've had enough" and "I'm a little bored, let's play." The product is reportedly going to be enhanced later on so that, and I swear this is true, owners can get e-mails from their dogs. What would a dog have to say via e-mail?
DOG E-MAIL: Dear Master. This is just Rex checking in to say "hey." I don't have much to tell you right now, except that I accidently pushed your cellular phone into a latrine. I wouldn't go get it if I were you. Send a Kenyan instead.
And get Jennifer Garner naked. And get Jennifer Garner nude. And get Jennifer Garner naked. And get Jennifer Garner naked. Jennifer Garner in a bikini. Jennifer Garner is hot. Jennifer Garner nipple slip. Jennifer Garner.
White House Grappling With Increased Shame
Oscar Night Fallout Prompts West Wing Head Hanging
WASHINGTON D.C. (Rhodes Media Services) -- Although it was a typically busy day for employees of the West Wing of the White House, hearts were heavy and heads hung low with shame following Michael Moore's Oscar night comments.
Moore, a college dropout turned independent film director, won an Oscar for his film "Bowling For Columbine." As part of his acceptance speech, he forcefully pointed his finger and called shame down on President George W. Bush.
"We are against this war, Mr. Bush. Shame on you, Mr. Bush. Shame on you," Moore shouted.
There was no comment from the White House as to whether the President felt a darkened cloud of shame enshroud him at the time of Moore's comments, but West Wing workers have taken it upon themselves to feel an appropriate amount of shame so that the administration can focus on more important things, such as the war in Iraq.
"Nothing burns worse than when someone says 'shame on you'" said Nicole Johnson, a morose-looking West Wing intern. "It's tough to deal with shame of this magnitude. Michael Moore is a big fat guy, so when he deals out the shame, there's a lot to go around. We're doing our part to ensure that Moore's shame bombardment doesn't reach the President. And, if it does reach him, it will be a diluted shame, kind of like the shame a dog feels after pooping on the carpet."
Media Mayhem
Attention: Rant Ahead
I'm a journalist. I went to school for journalism and earned my degree in mass communication/journalism, and I've been working in a variety of print mediums, from newspapers, to books, to magazines, for the past six years. Six years doesn't make me an expert on anything, and I don't profess to be an authority on anything except bowel movements, but I can tell you, as a journalist, I think the quality of mass media war reporting is horrible.
It doesn't matter what side you're on--whether you're for or against this war. Coverage on either side is so biased it would be laugh-out-loud funny if it weren't such a serious issue. In my mass communications classes, professors admitted that it was difficult not to become involved with the articles we write, but they all said that we should try our best to keep our opinions out of genuine news pieces. If it's an editorial, fine, go ahead and opinionate until you're gasping for breath, but if you're writing news, keep a cap on the bias. Somewhere along the line, however, this golden rule of journalism got tossed to the curb like a pee-stained couch.
For example, since when is it the reporter's duty to interject haughty adjectives into pure news pieces? What gives MSNBC.com reporter Preston Mendenhall the right to categorize Iraqi resistance as "vigorous?" As opposed to what? Casual resistance? Just say "resistance." I think readers can connect the dots from there.
Fox News isn't any better. Granted, Fox News couldn't be any more biased even if all their anchors were Republicans hand picked by W Bush himself, but their reporting is often so transparent they come across with about as much subtlety as the Creel Committee World War I propaganda machine. When the Iraq war first started, I heard a Fox News anchor announce that "America has yet to release its mighty might" and I damn near shot Diet Pepsi out my nose. "Mighty might?" I kept imagining a cape-wearing mouse singing "Heeere I come to save the daaaaayy!" That's not reporting; that's cheerleading.
While flying back from Colorado on Saturday night, I was perusing the latest issue of Newsweek. Their cover story, written by Fareed Zakaria, had the headline "Arrogant Empire." Jeez! Let's not even touch the whole "arrogant" issue. I could expound on that until my fingers fall off on the keyboard. What gets me is the whole "empire" thing, as if the United States is spreading out across the world and planting its flag in the butt crack of every world leader. If we were truly seeking and maintaining an empire, the Middle East would consist of the United States Arab Emirates, the American Protectorate of Libya, the Territory of Qatar, and Afghanistan would be our 51st state. Empire my ass (hey, that's three posterior references in five paragraphs. Impressive).
Now I am by no means innocent of the sin of journalistic bias. In the year and a half I've written for IBM eServer Magazine, I've sacrificed my non-biased integrity more times than I can count, mainly because we're beholden to the "almighty might" of the the IBM legal department, which pretty much dictates what the word "is" is. But this is a niche publication, and people don't necessarily rely upon it for informed political and world discussion (and if they do rely on it, they have problems). I expect more, much more, from the journalists and reporters who bring me international news. Hell, Salam Pax does a better job of reporting from Iraq than most professional reporters do, and he's an Iraqi living in Baghdad. Consider:
>From Salam Pax: half an hour ago the oil filled trenches were put on fire. First watching Al-jazeera they said that these were the places that got hit by bombs from an air raid a few miniutes earlier bit when I went up to the roof to take a look I saw that there were too many of them, we heard only three explosions. I took pictures of the nearest. My cousine came and told me he saw police cars standing by one and setting it on fire. Now you can see the columns of smoke all over the city.
Todat the third in the war, we had quite a number of attacks during daytime. Some without air-raid sirens. They probably just gave up on being able to be on time to sound the sirens. Last night, after waves after waves of attacks, they would sound the all-clear siren only to start another raid siren 30 minutes later.
Aside from the occasional word spelled incorrectly, that's a pretty unbiased excerpt. It tells you what the situation is in a concise fashion. Now consider:
>From reporter Nate Thayer: Today, for the first time, the bombs fell and the missiles struck in daylight. The assault lasted all day. And it came not only from long-range missiles but from coalition planes that are flying over our heads and dropping their payloads in the neighborhood of the Palestine Hotel, where most of the foreign journalists remaining in Baghdad are staying. Today is also the first time that I am truly frightened. It is not the American bombs I am primarily afraid of. What frightens me and Mary - the name I'll give a photographer with whom I've become inseparable - is the mood of the people. The city is thick with anger and defiance, and we are Americans.
So, what I'm gathering is that Nate is a pretty scared little puppy, and he'd appreciate if the U.S. would stop bombing so close to his hotel. Awwwwww. Really, what did Nate expect? He should stop whining and do his job, and maybe take some tips from Salam Pax.
And at what point did the nation's media get together and decree that this war should be wrapped up in a week? Granted, we have a pretty spectacular military, but it's not immune to unknowns of war. Yes, American soldiers have died, perhaps 50, perhaps fewer. That does not constitute some horrific failure. It constitutes war. Coalition forces have rumbled to Baghdad's door in less than a week, and the media outlets of the world are asking what the hold-up is? Jeez. Even when my family drove to Montana when I was a child, we had to stop twice over night, and no one was even shooting at us, and we didn't have to maintain supply lines or anything. To the mass media agencies of the world, can I just offer up this tidbit of advice: please don't play up every death or setback as a major defeat for the U.S. military. Shit happens in war. There's your headline. When you look at the big picture, Iraq is about to fall.
Then the U.S. can add the Protectorate of Iraq to our arrogant empire.
Morons.
My Middle East Madness Menu c. Ryan Rhodes, Oct. 17, 2001
An Old Post That Seems Appropriate Once Again
After a long day of avoiding a U.S. led airstrike over your war torn country, hunger is no doubt the first thing on your mind. You desire something fast and inexpensive, something that the whole family can enjoy. So, come to Osama's Fast Food Emporium, your Mecca for affordable family cuisine.
At Osama's, you'll be treated to a virtually bomb free atmosphere, and you're encouraged to enjoy Allah you can eat. And, Osama's extensive menu guarantees a pleasant and different dining experience every time you visit.
"Osama's has declared a holy war on hunger," said a satisfied customer. "When I first heard of a franchise in the area, I didn't walk, Iran."
Yasser, you betcha, this is no joke, this Israel. With Osama's restaurants springing up throughout the Middle East, you're probably just a camel ride away from a hearty Osama's meal. So, make a pilgrimage to your nearest Osama's today. Remember, a rolling stone gathers no mosque.
So, what culinary delights can you find at Osama's? You're encouraged, of course, to start off with a nice garden or caesar Saladdin before moving on to the main course. How about a nine piece order of Taliban Tenders. These tender white Gaza strips of chicken breast, rolled in Osama's secret blend of herbs and spices, are sure to satisfy even the most hardlined fundamentalist. Or, enjoy a rosemary and Yemen chicken breast (with a slight sprinkle of Sultan pepper), a sure hit with your wives.
Feeling a little Mexican? Then order our delicious chicken El Queda Quesadillas.
But wait, you aren't limited to chicken at Osama's. You can also enjoy a vast assortment of mutton dishes. In fact, at Osama's, our specialty Islam.
Osama's also provides several side orders, including, for a limited time, ripened ears of Koran on the Kaaba.
"Oman, that Koran on the Kaaba was excellent," said another appreciative diner. "I almost feel bad that I ate four ears. I sincerely apologize."
No need to say you're Saudi at Osama's. At our affordable prices, we understand when you eat more than your share.
Of course, Osama's didn't forget the early risers. For the breakfast crowd, Osama's provides small and large stacks of Pakistani Pancakes smothered in bin Ladenberry syrup. Other breakfast items include Hezbollah Hash Browns, Baghdad Bacon, Syrian Sausage, and Beirut Bagels.
Wash down your Osama's meal with any of our beverages, including juices, sodas, and our famous Shiite Shakes. All refills only cost a Qatar.
So, you've finished your Osama's meal, and you still have room for more? Perhaps something on the sweet side? Not to worry; Osama's also provides a number of delicious desert desserts, including our Sahara Sundaes and Empty Quarter Eclairs.
Like most families, you probably have some unruly children who are hungry but difficult to satisfy. No problem. Simply load up your little terrors and bring them to Osama's, where they can enjoy our low priced Angry Meals. Upon hearing that they're headed to Osama's, your children will no doubt start yelling and shieking with glee. You may have to Muslim.
Yes, Osama's has lifted the veil on affordable family cuisine. See for yourself. Come to Osama's Fast Food Emporium today!
