Brain graze



All is not lost. This Dad can verify that although the emerging generation have gaping holes in their education that doesn't necessarily mean they're dumb.
They may know squat about history, other than that their ancestors were rapacious, genocidal invaders. (Which in our case meant they were bloody busy, for they were also convicts, share farmers and manual laborers. Oh, and one ancestor helped repel the Japs on the Kokoda Track, which was very fortunate on account of the Japs not learning the peace at all costs mantra.) And as you'd expect many high school graduates don't know much about economics and politics other than socialism good, capitalism bad.
But one thing this generation has learnt is how to sniff out bullshit and hypocrisy.
And even the favorite newspaper of the b&h classes, THE NEW YORK TIMES, has become aware of the sceptical generation.
It gives you hope that once this war has been won, another battle will be decided in favour of the forces of reason and honour -- the Cultural War.
At Amherst College, many students were vocally annoyed this semester when 40 professors paraded into the dining hall with antiwar signs. One student confronted a protesting professor and shoved him.


OOOOhhhhh, that smarts!! STEYNE is blistering in THE TELEGRAPH.

The Independent's Saddamite buffoon Robert Fisk is still panting his orgasmic paeans to the impenetrability of Baghdad's defences and huffily insisting there are no Americans at the airport even as the Saddam International signs are being torn down and replaced with Rumsfeld International.

You've got to feel sorry for the appeasers. All they've got to hang their increasingly threadbare positions on are reports from the likes of Fisk and Arnett. A couple of more sorry cases of in-denial you wouldn't find in a day's march.
Still if they're anything like the flyblown composite of old Trots and know-nothing Greens at the ABC -- and they are -- they might just shut up shop.
As Al McCallum points out, just as it becomes clear the Willies are winning and the final siren could blow at any time, overnight the tax-payer-funded Pinko-run Australian Broadcasting Collective stopped relaying feeds from the BBC or CNN?

And this at a time of greatest interest, the push on Baghdad? The communards have lost interest of course, and they will soon be moving back to whingeing about why the UN should be in charge of re-construction / Its all about oil / Kyoto blah freaking blah.


Uncle at ABC WATCH has devised a plan of action for reform of the ABC in the wake of its damned near treacherous coverage of the war. Unk's advice includes:

Send your emails to Minister Alston, the Minister for Finance and the Treasurer. Point out that it is a disgrace to spend your money on political campaigners with no professional standards. And on managements that are unwilling or unable to manage for a professional public broadcaster.
Tell them, I humbly suggest, that if the managers they pay can't manage, then it's time to start afresh.


Do I detect a note of uncertainty in Magic Mick's turf advice for today? Tough day, he says. Well, it will be a damn sight tougher if I don't get the wherewithall to take Mrs Slatts down to the Greasy Spoon tonight where I can toast her lustrous beauty with a glass of vin average. So I'm pinning my faith on the gods of turf to come to the rescue whenever the spouse desires spending showered upon her. Here goes:
Try RAVEN PROTECTOR (Race 2, No.4) , GALLIC (Race 4, No.6), KARAMAZOU (Race 5, No.14) all each-way.



Could someone please fix Blair's site for him. Angry Anderson tells me he's at Blogs of War, but me no can connect.



The location of that handful of top Nazis that escaped the Allied dragnet after WW2? Reckon one of them ended up in Texas and landed a position on the board of an El Paso school.
BORDERLAND NEWS reports that Sal Santana II, a 12-year-old Magoffin Middle School student, has been suspended for three days and may be Siberiaed to an alternative school.
His crime? Sal, a reluctant romantic, stuck his tongue out at a girl who declined his invitation to be his girlfriend. School district administrators viewed the incident as sexual harassment and threw the book at him.
"This is crazy," said Sal's mother, Silvia Santana. "It's a shame that a guy trying to be cute with a girl can get himself into this much trouble. I don't think he even knows what sexual harassment is."
Seems the educators don't know what child abuse is either.


In case things don't work out for the quisling of the keyboard, Peter Arnett, at his new job at the Mirror, Reuters reports that Swaziland's state radio station is in need of a Baghdad correspondent.
Thanks to JAMES TARANTO for the news that Phesheya Dube, who delivered "live reports" ostensibly from Baghdad, turns out to have been in Swaziland the whole time.
"Why are they lying to the nation that the man is in Iraq, when he is here in Swaziland, broadcasting out of a broom closet?" Jojo Dlamini, a member of Swaziland's Parliament, demanded to know.
Well, as discerning BBC and CNN viewers can testify, the footage might be duller, but it's cheaper to lie from a broom closet than from the front. There is, however, always the danger when hiding in a broom closet of being discovered by a BBC correspondent looking for her ride home.


WAR! What is it good for?
Well in the case of, er, homely women, it seems it's handy for getting a job on the BBC.


The NEW YORK POST asks the questions that Australian apologists for reporting rat Peter Arnett --- like 3AW's Neale Mitchell and Ross Stephenson and Crikey's Stephen Mayne -- have failed to ask about him.
The real question is this: Why did NBC and National Geographic hire him in the first place? During the first Gulf War, his reporting from Baghdad was so biased in Saddam's favor that he reported as fact that a weapons plant bombed by U.S. jets was actually a "baby milk factory."
Then, in 1998, Arnett was the on-air reporter for a CNN report claiming that an American unit in Vietnam had used nerve gas on a murder hunt for U.S. defectors supposedly living in Laos
Only one problem: There wasn't a word of truth to either story.

We like the Post's conclusion:
His own words made it impossible to pretend that he is anything other than a modern-day Lord Haw-Haw - the Englishman who broadcast Nazi propaganda in World War II.


When THE SUN'S got the word TRAITOR in two-inch capitals, you suspect they're gunning for someone. When the description extends to ''slimy Saddam supporter'', a "fawning MP'', whose career is dogged by "financial and sexual scandals'', you know they've got someone's arse on the barbecue. As the Current Bun says: MEET GEORGE GALLOWAY, MP FOR BAGHDAD CENTRAL.



Must be getting crowded in the media tent at Baghdad Watch. According to the API's CYBERJOURNALIST.NET, it's not just the networks hanging off every word and image emerging from the battlefront. Lesser players are in there, too, doing sterling work. The ST PETERSBURG TIMES from Tampa Bay has photo-journalist John Pendygraft attached to the HMM 365 Marine Helicopter Squad from New River, N.C. Pendygraft is not just recording battle action, absorbing as it is. He is also giving readers an unfamiliar look at life at war for squad members and the bewildering turn of events confronting the Iraqi people.
I like the homely touch the smaller city reporter brings. It's something the network big hairs couldn't even comprehend.
The music of war

In the past year and a half, Lance Corporal Daniel Hartzog's 30-year-old guitar has been to Afghanistan, Crete, Malta, Spain, the United Arab Emirates, in an airtight room on the USS Bataan (which had great acoustics) and it's now being used in an empty recreation tent in Kuwait to piece together a song about war.
The guitar was a gift from Hartzog’s father. There is a Black and Mild cigar tip wedged between the neck and the body to help hold it together. The peg that holds the high E string is a piece of carved wood wrapped with plastic, and a ragged T-shirt, that at one time was an improvised strap, hangs near the tuning pegs. It falls out of tune quickly, prompting Hartzog to quietly hum his best memory of an A tone and fiddle with it often. It is gold to him. The Marines were told to come here packing light, with just an ALICE pack and two sea bags. Deploying with a guitar was a messy task.
"I figure it’s worth it. There's a couple of days of fumbling all your stuff around, but once you get it here, it means the world," Hartzog said.
He explains why music in a theater of war is important to him.
"Ultimately the objective in war is to try to bring people together, bring nations together. Music does the same thing on a smaller scale. If I'm in a positive mood and I'm playing, it might affect someone. War brings about change, always. So does music."



This editorial could have come from any of a number of mass media outlets:

This war is an abject and utter failure. What everyone thought would be a quick, decisive victory has turned into an embarrassing series of reversals. The enemy, -- a ragtag, badly-fed collection of hotheads and fanatics – has failed to be shocked and awed by the most magnificent military machine ever fielded. Their dogged resistance has shown us the futility of the idea that a nation of millions could ever be subjugated and administered, no matter what obscene price we are willing to pay in blood and money.

The President of the United States is a buffoon, an idiot, a man barely able to speak the English language. His vice president is a little-seen, widely despised enigma and his chief military advisor a wild-eyed warmonger. Only his Secretary of State offers any hope of redemption, for he at least is a reasonable, well-educated man, a man most thought would have made a far, far better choice for Chief Executive.

We must face the fact that we had no business forcing this unjust war on a people who simply want to be left alone. It has damaged our international relationships beyond any measure, and has proven to be illegal, immoral and nothing less than a monumental mistake that will take generations to rectify. We can never hope to subdue and remake an entire nation of millions. All we will do is alienate them further. So we must bring this war to an immediate end, and make a solemn promise to history that we will never launch another war of aggression and preemption again, so help us God.

It features in the blog of the inimitable BILL WHITTLE. And it comes from American press all right. The time was the summer of 1864.
Go read it all. It's astonishing.


No, says Julie Burchill in THE GUARDIAN, it's not all about oil.
It's all about me!
With their simplistic responses to complex matters, many on the anti-war front plainly can't find contentment in arduous thought. Nor in the contemplation of history or group dynamics. They like it easy at the shallow end of the gene pool, so they become celebrity obsessed. And they want to be just like their heroes -- make a lot of meaningless noise, mouth platitudes you could drive a Mack truck through and get on the telly.

Burchill expounds on the stoopids in the street:

Surely this is the most self-obsessed anti-war protest ever. NOT IN MY NAME! That's the giveaway. Who gives a stuff about their wet, white, western names? See how they write them so solemnly in a list on the bottom of the letters they send to the papers. And the ones that add their brats' names are the worst - a grotesque spin on Baby On Board, except they think that this gives them extra humanity points not just on the motorway, but in the whole wide weeping, striving, yearning world. We don't know the precious names of the countless numbers Saddam has killed. We're talking about a people - lots of them parents - subjected to an endless vista of death and torture, a country in which freedom can never be won without help from outside.


Shot four times in the head and he walks away. Is this the luckiest man in the Middle East?


Sure this originally came from an episode of MASH. Seems one of L. T. SMASH'S men has picked it up.

"Sir, I'd lahk to request special leave," announced Henry, in his thick Louisiana accent.

"Why's that?" This ought to be good.

"Ya see, Sir, mah wife is fixin' to get preg-nut, an I wanna be there for it."

"I understand. Request denied."

"Thank you, Sir."

"No problem."


Not even a fraction of THE FULL MONTY.


Anyone who shitcans Michael Moore is all right with me. When the assailant adds information like this:
Moore's Oscar showboating was rewarded later in the week when he came in at Number Three on The New York Press's list of the 50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers,
he deserves free beer and steak for making my day.
MARK STEYNE is today's hero.
This I like:
The vast bulk of his credibility in this regard derives from his vast bulk. Less of Moore would be a career disaster; he would be just another cadaverous limousine liberal nibbling on his curly endive.


Bruised but not beaten by turf investments at Sandown yesterday. Magic Mick Manley's first tip, Converge, won but started at shorter odds than anticipated to return only $38 for a $10 each way outlay. Still, any price a winner. We crashed in the next when Gallic was just eased out of the placings, dropping $25 for our $10 each way and $5 exacto of Gallic and Gussy Godiva. Down $7 for the day. Tsingtao ran second but didn't add to our profits, returning only $19 for our $10 each way. Ah well, had worse days.