The Voice of Treason

I caught a little of Paul Harvey yesterday and he mentioned that Spain, not long after declaring “amnistia” for hundreds of thousands of illegal immigrants, has decided to slam the door shut on any more people who are looking to relocate to Espana. In particular, the Spaniards are objecting to “boat people from Africa.”

My, my. Does this not smack of racism? Why, we in America welcomed Africans on boats. In fact, we provided the transportation. We even had jobs lined up and places for them to live. We welcomed Africans on boats who came here to do the jobs that Americans would not do.

And now Spaniards are objecting to Africans? Xenophobes! Why, those nativists! Afraid of something, are they? Skin color? Are they objecting to dark-skinned Africans? Or is it religion? Are they objecting to Africans who are Muslim? Oh, those Spanish tents are small and non-inclusive. Why, these Spaniards are kinder to bulls!

This is unconscionable! Who are these cold-hearted racists in Spain? Is it a question of national language? Or…perhaps they would be more receptive to immigrants who speak Espanol. Hmmmm. Perhaps we should talk.

Hola! Mucho gusto. Encantado…

I caught a little bit of Rush in the car on the way home today, and he was talking about the media’s infatuation with Algore, and how excited they are at the prospect of another presidential run. Suddenly Hillary is no longer the media darling du jour; the frenzy is over Algore. I imagine journalists are excited because they feel that Algore could actually win. After all, he already won once…

It’s a joke, folks. He didn’t really win, but it seems like he and a lot of other people believe that he did. See, Hillary has a problem. There are people who will vote for Hillary, but they won’t be voting for Hillary. And there are people who will vote against Hillary, but they won’t be voting against Hillary. I know that sounds like something John Kerry might say - obscure and nonsensical - but it’s the Bill factor. People will be voting for or against Bill.

But Hillary and Algore carry the same baggage and, again, that baggage is Bill. There were people - Republicans included - who didn’t object to Algore when he ran with Hillary’s partner. They learned to dislike him later when they discovered he was a ‘ho.’ Yes, Algore’s a political whore. I know you’re saying “Who isn’t?” and “Isn’t that redundant?” but in Algore’s case it’s quite tragic. He put aside his core beliefs to get on that ticket because being president is more important than anything else. He believes he deserves to be president and he’ll do anything to get the job. Many of us suspected that he couldn’t stomach Bill Clinton, yet he didn’t hesitate to defend him and call him “great.” And that’s what we couldn’t stomach.

It’s a shame really. Even if Hillary was perfectly suitable I’d vote against her just to keep Bill out of the White House. And I’d have to vote against Algore because the man’s lost his marbles. He had a few dozen brightly colored cat’s-eyes in his head, but over the years they’ve rattled loose and dropped out of his ears somewhere. Maybe he left them on a campaign bus or a jet. Don’t know. Just hope he’s reunited with them someday. Forty, fifty years from now.

I’ve always had sort of a love-hate relationship with “hippie communities.” They held a certain fascination for me when I was young, but even then I sensed there was some underlying…something.

In the sixties we lived in Rogers Park in Chicago, between Northwestern and Loyola University. Not only were there head shops across the street from our building, there was one in our building. In the seventies, in California, the communities were plentiful. I was eleven when I went to the Renaissance Faire, and liked the many “artsy” communities that stretched from Monterey to Eureka. I’ve always had access to these places.

But then I attended a university in one of those artsy little communities. Wasn’t just passing through to look at trinkets and hand-painted stash boxes. Had to live there. My infatuation soon waned. I thought about this when I was in such a community on Sunday. A friend wanted me to see a production she was involved in, so I spent a good part of the day in a small mountainous area that used to be a mining town.

On the surface it looks like most of these out of the way artsy villages, but there’s just something about it that I couldn’t stop thinking about. You know when you’re watching something like V, and on the surface everything seems friendly enough, but then you discover that those around you are really big lizard creatures from another planet who want you for dinner? Or maybe The Devil’s Advocate, where all seems benign until you discover that all the people around you are grotesque demons from hell? Or maybe Rosemary’s Baby, where…well, you get the idea.

I couldn’t really put my finger on it, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something so creepy and perverse - so sinister - that I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. I made up my mind that I didn’t intend to go back.

I can’t explain it. It’s this underlying…evil. Maybe evil is too strong a word. There’s an unwholesomeness. Yes, that’s it. An unwholesomeness.

There are these dogs. They’re everywhere. Communities like these always have dogs. Usually they’re Labs or shepherd mixes and they all wear bandannas. They have names like Jericho and Shasta. But these dogs this past Sunday were different. I’ve actually seen some of them before, but this time they looked different. Most had no collars or even bandannas. Some didn’t seem to be with any humans - they were just there. They scratched themselves. Some had abscesses, and some limped. One old one who’s a fixture at the museum was slow to respond to me. There were kids who wanted to pet the dog and a woman advised against it. “She doesn’t want to be petted. She’ll snap.”

I petted her. Something, though, was different about her - she wasn’t really…conversing, if you know what I mean. And then I noticed her left eye. I won’t describe it, but it was unpleasant. I stayed with her awhile, and talked to her. Told her she was a sweet and good dog and that it was nice to see her again. She moved towards me and let me rub her under the chin.

I saw many dogs, none on leashes. Traffic can be heavy on the main road and the dogs could easily have been struck by cars. Some hid under porches and stairwells. One stayed behind a pile of rubble and looked nervous when I said, “Hey - you’re a good-looking dog!” Maybe he didn’t believe me. To me, all dogs are attractive because dogs are God’s most perfect creatures, but these dogs are…different. It’s a look. Not the dirty coats or the injuries or the matted fur. It’s something else. An expression. A look. I live to look in a dog’s eyes. I can see ancient souls there. I can see reasons to go on living.

In these dogs’ eyes I see something else. Something I don’t see in my dogs’ eyes. There’s such sadness there. No spark, no glee, no enthusiasm, no light. Just so much sadness. I look at them, I smile, and I speak to them - but I worry that they know I can see it. I smile and say something reassuring, but I can’t be around these dogs for very long. It hurts too much.

The big local controversy has been over a new animal ordinance that the mayor intends to sign into law. Without going into the details, it’s a badly written, poorly thought out piece of legislation that cannot be enforced. Government cannot legislate common sense and decency, responsibility or compassion. How a person interacts with animals is a complex thing. I know people with advanced degrees from respected universities, but because they were raised on a farm, they object to dogs in the house. I liked a particular couple very much, but they were openly opposed to the presence of my dogs. My first impulse was to keep the dogs outside when they visited, but then I realized that I don’t particularly like children, but I would never expect a host to put theirs someplace else just because I was visiting. I made the decision to stop inviting the couple over.

How one treats an animal, how one treats a pet…how one treats a child…is part of a philosophy. Government cannot enforce a philosophy like this. Those who care for animals will continue to obey the laws they’d never break anyway; but others - those whose behavior prompted this legislation - will never change their behaviors. And it will be the animals - those who are supposed to be protected by these new laws - who will suffer.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

– “In Flanders Fields,” John McCrae, 1915

I remember when I was a child we brought a fistful of change to school so we could purchase artificial red poppies with green wire stems. We’d hand over the coins to our teacher, and she would present the shiny red flowers. Each student would find a way to attach the poppy somewhere on the chest - either by wrapping the stem around a button, or pulling it through the stitches of a cardigan. We knew the flower was special, we just didn’t know why.

Decades have passed and adults ask one another:

“Say, don’t we have a three-day weekend coming up here pretty soon?”

Someone will say: “We sure do and I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for some time off!”

People will describe their holiday plans. We’re going to go out of town and just relax. It’s the lake for us. Mountains and camping. Sticking around the house - eating, drinking beer, napping. Putting in some new flooring. Cleaning out the garage. Shopping. Probably see a ballgame…or take the kids to see that movie they’ve been advertising.

Someone will invariably ask:

“Now what holiday is this again? Labor Day?”

“No, that’s in November.”

“No, Labor Day’s in September. You know - the end of summer, back to school, beginning of fall and all that? Can’t wear white shoes.”

“Then what’s in November?”

“Thanksgiving.”

“No, the other one.”

“It’s Veterans’ Day.”

“I thought that was what this weekend was.”

“What?”

“Veterans’ Day. Isn’t that what this weekend is?”

“I don’t know. It’s one of them. All I know is I don’t have to be here, so call it anything you want. It’s a freaking day off.”

I’m usually the person who explains that it’s Memorial Day. The day of remembrance. The day we’ve set aside to take a moment to remember those who died in our nation’s service. I remember Memorial Day not just because I have a grasp of the major holidays, but because it’s easy to remember a holiday that reminds us to remember death.

I rarely look forward to this weekend because, inevitably, something awful happens. One year, I was rushing my mother’s ailing Basset Hound, Humphrey, to the emergency clinic; three years ago, my sister was dying. It’s rare that I get through this holiday without a medical crisis or tragedy.

Tonight, one of our dogs collapsed on our evening walk. I’m reminded of all the pets who chose a three-day weekend to have a health issue; I’m reminded of my sister; and I’m reminded of the countless bodies lying in fields throughout history. No festivities planned. Well, maybe some drinking.

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

– Moina Michael

“We’ll be fighting in the streets
With our children at our feet
And the morals that they worship will be gone
And the men who spurred us on
Sit in judgment of all wrong
They decide and the shotgun sings the song”

– “Won’t Get Fooled Again”

Earlier in the week I mentioned that National Review was listing their picks for the top 50 conservative rock songs of all time. The last one I saw was number three, then I got busy and didn’t check online to see numbers two and one. Then it occurred to me that I haven’t checked the mailbox in a few days, and I probably had the new issue of NR - with all fifty tunes - right there. I grabbed my keys and headed for the box.

Radar fingers. I pulled the magazine out of the mailbox and opened - magically - to page 45. There I saw Pete Townshend in his trademark white boiler suit, with guitar, leaping in the air. The Who — in the top slot. A quick review of the fifty titles and I’m pleased.

The Who, The Beatles, The Beach Boys, The Sex Pistols, The Kinks, U2, The Pretenders, Paul Revere and the Raiders, The Clash, David Bowie, Oingo Boingo, Joe Jackson, Creedence, The Cranberries, The Proclaimers, Cheap Trick. Very pleased, indeed.

NR rocks.

“I don’t really think it’s a matter of our vindication. I think, in a way, that’s the least important part of it. But I do think that occasionally we should just take a step back and ask, why are we doing this? Why is it so important?

Saddam was removed from power three years ago. Since then, incidentally, our forces have been there with the United Nations mandate and with the consent of the Iraqi government, itself, the Iraqi government, becoming progressively more the product of direct democracy.

So whatever people thought about removing Saddam — you agree with it, you didn’t agree with it for these last three years, the issue in Iraq has not been, these people are here without any international support, because we haven’t had any United Nations resolution governing our presence there. The issue is not, you’re there, but the Iraqi people don’t want you there, because the Iraqi government, and now this directly-elected Iraqi government has said they want us to stay until the job is done.

So why is it that for three years, we have had this violence and bloodshed? Now, people have tried to say it’s because the Iraqi people — you people, you don’t understand; you went in with this Western concept of democracy and you didn’t understand that their whole culture was different, they weren’t interested in these types of freedom. These people have gone out and voted — a higher turnout, I have to say — I’m afraid to say, I think, than either your election or mine. These people have gone out and voted…They have gone out and voted despite terrorism, despite bloodshed, despite literally the prospect of death for exercising their democratic right.

So they have kept faith with the very democratic values that we say we believe in, and the people trying to wrest that democracy from them are opposed to absolutely everything we stand for and everything the Iraqi people stand for.

So what do we do in response to this? And the problem we have is very, very simple. A large part of the perspective with which we look at this is to see every act of terrorism in Iraq, every piece of ghastly carnage on our television screens, every tragic loss of our own forces — we see that as a setback and as a failure when we should be seeing that as a renewed urgency for us to rise to the challenge of defeating these people who are committing this carnage. Because over these past three years, at every stage, the reason they have been fighting is not, as we can see, because Iraqi people don’t believe in democracy, Iraqi people don’t want liberty. It is precisely because they fear Iraqi people do want democracy, Iraqi people do want liberty.

And if the idea became implanted in the minds of people in the Arab and Muslim world that democracy was as much their right as our right, where do these terrorists go? What do they do? How do they recruit? How do they say, America is the evil Satan? How do they say the purpose of the West is to spoil your lands, wreck your religion, take your wealth? How can they say that? They can’t say that.

So these people who are fighting us there know what is at stake. The question is, do we?”

– Prime Minister Tony Blair, May 25, 2006, in the East Room of the White House

President Bush, standing to the Prime Minister’s left, interjected:

“I’m going to say, that was a great answer.”

I’m going to say, the Prime Minister asked a great question. So…do we?

I caught a little of Paul Harvey on the car radio. He said something about the women’s lacrosse team at Duke. It appears they’re wearing red bracelets…sweatbands, maybe…on their wrists that say “innocent.” They’ve explained that they’re doing this to show their solidarity. With whom? The male lacrosse team or the accuser?

If it’s the team and not the accuser…well, we’ll just call these women racists.

Until someone proves that the contents of this walking sperm bank matches the DNA of someone on that team, I’ll remain skeptical.

Well…just call me a misogynist.

I heard Paul Harvey talking about an upcoming election in the Piedmont region of Italy. There are forty candidates on the ballot. There are sixty-three voters. On Sunday, the votes will be counted and then there will be a celebration. Everyone will come together for a big Italian dinner and down a few bottles of Dolcetto di Dogliani; then both voters and candidates will part ways, stagger home, and get some sleep. Now that’s incentive to get out and vote.

This reminded me that we have a primary coming up in a couple weeks. And it occurred to me that I hadn’t yet studied the ballot.

Earlier in the week I had a conversation with a classmate and he confided that he’s voted for Republicans in every election since Nixon. But he just switched his party affiliation and is now a registered Democrat. He admitted this because another classmate, visibly upset, told the entire class that she was thinking about leaving her church.

“It’s just been the last couple weeks. I love this church. I love the people. They’re all so smart and so funny. Really bright - all of them. But in just the last couple weeks I’ve been hearing things. Just all of a sudden…things I’m hearing. And I don’t know what to do.”

Her pastor is hinting that if someone believes in science, he can’t believe in God. She plans to put together an argument to present to her pastor, and if he insists that religion and science are oil and vinegar, then she is prepared to leave that church.

Now if you ask me, oil and vinegar can mix, but tend to separate. When separate, the two ingredients are fine and each serves many purposes. But together, they can create a wonderful dressing for salad. If life is a salad, I prefer mine with dressing. Especially if we’re talkin’ olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Ooooh, Katy bar the door.

But I digress. The other classmate offered his story because he has a similar dilemma. He loves science and medicine, but he feels, politically, there has been “an attack on science.” He feels that he can no longer support the party, so he’s switched. He wants to vote in Democratic primaries so he can choose the Democratic candidates in the state.

After looking at the primary ballot, I feel my classmate has jumped the gun. Since I can count the number of Republicans on this ballot on one hand, and since many of the races don’t even have a Republican running, I think my classmate could have held off re-registering. He’ll have his opportunity to vote for as many Democrats as he likes come June 6.

A few years ago, National Review published a list of “The 100 Best Conservative Movies.” This week, if you take a moment to go to NR online (oooh — handy link provided on The V.O.T.!), you’ll discover that they’re counting down, one song and one day at a time, the top five “Conservative Rock ‘n’ Roll Songs.” No, really. I’ve got proof:

“Last year, I asked readers of National Review Online to nominate conservative rock songs. Hundreds of suggestions poured in. I’ve sifted through them all, downloaded scores of mp3s, and puzzled over a lot of lyrics. What follows is a list of the 50 greatest conservative rock songs of all time, as determined by me and a few others. The result is of course arbitrary, though we did apply a handful of criteria.

What makes a great conservative rock song? The lyrics must convey a conservative idea or sentiment, such as skepticism of government or support for traditional values. And, to be sure, it must be a great rock song. We’re biased in favor of songs that are already popular, but have tossed in a few little-known gems. In several cases, the musicians are outspoken liberals. Others are notorious libertines. For the purposes of this list, however, we don’t hold any of this against them. Finally, it would have been easy to include half a dozen songs by both the Kinks and Rush, but we’ve made an effort to cast a wide net. Who ever said diversity isn’t a conservative principle?”

—John J. Miller

“EDITOR’S NOTE: This week on NRO, we’re rolling out the first five and then all 50 songs from a list John J. Miller compiled that appears in the June 5 issue of National Review. To get the whole list NOW, check out the latest issue of National Review. For itunes links to all 50 songs, hang on until Friday, when we’ll unveil the whole list.”

I’m intrigued and, as busy as I’ve been this week, I’ve taken a few minutes each day to check in and see the picks. Ah, marketing. So, instead of spilling the beans here, take a moment to check out the titles yourself. Look for Michael Long’s name. He’ll be providing the lyrics and the reasons why the song appears on the list. A hoot.

Five, four - no complaints from me, so far - and I can’t wait to see three, two, and one. “Taking the oxymoron out of hip conservative,” indeed!

“Listen, Jack…I don’t mean to put any added pressure on you, but if you don’t have a confession by then, we’ll all be arrested for treason.”

– Chloe O’Brian to Jack Bauer, 24 season finale

I think the last time I looked forward to a weekly installment of a TV drama the way I look forward to 24 each Monday night was when I was tuning in to early episodes of Cannell’s Wiseguy to see Ray Sharkey, making a short-lived comeback (unfortunately), as Sonny, during the “Steelgrave Arc.” (It’s no wonder: Stephen Kronish contributed to both series.)

A guilty pleasure, for sure. Looking forward to the new season. Thanks to all responsible.