This ain't no party, this ain't no disco

I do not support out troops in Iraq.

How can I? War with Iraq is unjustified by the Bush administration’s own feeble rationale, namely the weapons-of-mass-destruction-in-an-evil-Dictator’s-mitts ploy. Israel, Pakistan, India and the good old USA all have weapons of mass destruction, and each of these extremely nationalistic regimes have shown that they’re all too willing to use such weapons. And there’s plenty of diabolical Dictatorial doings too – see Israel’s aggression against Palestinian subjects, Pakistan and India’s nuke slinging stand-off, and Bush’s disdain for due process and rule of law.

Waging war for Mideast peace only makes sense if you realize that each faction of the Bush cabal gets a piece: Oil for Cheney, public distraction from a dire economy for Karl Rove and his Bush wranglers, and a place in history for a messianic madman.

Don’t get me wrong. I know our troops are dealing with the difficult and deadly job they were sent to do. I know they don’t make policy. I know that many men and women in the all-volunteer services were pretty much forced to volunteer due to economic necessity. And I’m sure I’d be doing exactly what they’re doing under the same circumstances. After all, few of our troops have the connections to pull off a case of no-fault AWOL.

All the same, I cannot in good conscience support the many brave and decent men and women serving in Operation Iraqi Freedom. (A wonderful piece of Orwell’s Newspeak, by the way. Certainly many Iraqis will have freedom from malnutrition, disease and an uncertain political future once they are safely dead. The Bush cabal’s use of terms like “Freedom” and “Patriot” reminds me of the tag line to William Lustig’s “Maniac Cop” – “You have the right to remain silent….Forever!”)

How can I make a moral judgment about those in harm’s way? Well, for starters, I’m not. I’m just making a decision I can live with, as we all must in times that try the soul. Try to access your inner Scott Bakula – come on, I know y’all have one – and put yourself in a Quantum Leap episode where you’ve jumped into the skin of an average Helmut, Klaus or Udo back in 1941. The German army is marching into Russia as you watch and wave the flag.

It’s a pre-emptive strike against an evil Dictator – a man who’s committed atrocities against his own people and the populations of neighboring states. There is little doubt that this ruthless foe will attack your homeland if your leader does not attack him first. These guys goose-stepping past you are regular Volk just like you – this is the Wehrmacht, not the Waffen SS. Many of them are not even members of the Nazi party. And there is news that the advancing troops are being greeted as liberators by people oppressed by your country’s sworn enemy. But in your heart of hearts you really believe that Herr Hitler is a loose cannon, as dangerous in his way as Stalin is in his. Can you offer unwavering support for these brave soldiers?

Okay, I know this comparison can readily be picked apart. Bush for all his chicanery and delusions of grandeur is no Hitler. Even that murderous meglomaniac Saddam is no match for Stalin. And most important, I do not think for a second that our troops are akin to Nazis. I’m only saying that faced with supporting either the bad or the much worse, I’m choosing neither.

Nor do I believe that people who support our troops while abhorring Bush’s policies are insincere or mistaken in their stance. I applaud these citizens for making a difficult and deeply moral choice – indeed, their position can be seen as an embodiment of holding two contradictory thoughts in mind at the same time, which according to the old aphorism is the sign of maturity, intelligence and wisdom.

Still, I respectfully decline from making the choice they have. If I’m dead set against Bush’s scorched earth policy in the Fertile Crescent, I can’t give my unequivocal support to those following his orders.

Did I say that Bush was no Hitler? Hmmm…Perhaps I see some potential in the boy from Crawford. The German government got the jump on this notion, but other observers have followed suit. Bush boosters are predictable miffed about the Fuhrer furor, but if the brown shirt fits…

One possible sign that the comparison is catching hold is an upsurge in Bush-bashing humor from around the globe. It’s just like the days of the greatest generation, when comics stood in line to make a mockery of Germany’s Chancellor for life – everyone from Charlie Chaplin’s “Great Dictator” to the Three Stooges’ Axis Brothers. (Moe in a Hitler mustache just seems so right.)

Today on the humor front, we have everything from the French stealth pretzel assault, to surely what must be the final word on our President’s beloved axis of evil from former Python John Cleese.

Predictably, none of the fictional fun can hold a candle to real life antics, such as the National Guardsman who’s changed his name in honor of a really cool plastic toy. Personally, I’d pass on Optimus Prime as a fierce fighting name, and hijack a true “WWE Iraq-Down” caliber name from the black and white animated classic “Gigantor” The theme song, by the way, “Bigger than big! Stronger than strong!” indicates that Gigantor would also be a bitchin’ nom de porn.

In a world gone crazy, perhaps Optimus is more in synch than I am. Perhaps there is a method to our leader’s and our country’s current war madness. But let’s not kid ourselves for a second that it isn’t crazy.
 
¶ 3/26/2003 :: E-mail Pat

 

Blood Simple

Like the unreliable mercenaries in the John Cale song of the same name, the local TV stations across this great nation are falling in step with the saber-rattling networks: “Damn the objectivity and profits, full speed ahead!”

The affiliates are gearing up for war, appropriately armed with gripping battle graphics, swanky sonic extras – all derived from the infamous and irritating Fox News “Swoosh”, and bitchin’ war branding – in the style of CNN’s “Showdown: Iraq”, MSNBC’s “Countdown: Iraq”, WWE’s “Smackdown: Iraq”, and CMT’s “Hoe-down: Iraq”. There’s more positioning on display than at an ecstasy-fueled orgy. Even at the local level, they’re branding like the big boys at the Bush White House.

It’s a bizarre analogy to an arms race, where anyone who doesn’t keep pace with the marching columns must fall out and face the wrath of Neilsen.

The opening salvo in this bloody fray is the war-themed station ID. Mindful that support for Bush’s Imperialist adventure is not quite universal, these ten second bumps skirt outright jingoism. Preferring an oblique strategy, the messages range from: “We support the brave men and women serving in the Persian Gulf” to “We honor the men and women who died at the World Trade Center on 9/11”. The first is an easily recognized variation on Stephen Decatur:

“Our country: In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she always be right; but our country right or wrong.”

It’s a noble sentiment, sure to warm the cockles of Adolph Eichmann’s black heart, and the choice of the word “intercourse” is particularly fitting. But take a good look at the latter perfidious piety.

It may be nice to honor the 9/11 dead, but this message will be broadcast as bombs rain down upon Baghdad, thereby lending justification for war. I don’t think for a second that leading viewers to this conclusion by creating a powerful emotional connection between 9/11 and war, is an accident.

Promotion producers like myself know that an emotional connection is a far more powerful sales tool than a logical one, particularly if you don’t have the facts to forge a logical link. In the context of war, sanctimonious lip service to victims of terrorism is purposeful propaganda. I should know; I do it for a living.

One may counter my view with “Honi soit qui mal y pense” (just as the French could counter Bush’s stand on evildoer Saddam). And I’m sure that stations serving up thinly veiled pro-war propaganda can always fall back on the time honored cornerstone of all TV journalism ethics: “Everyone else in the market is doing it, so we have to do it too.”

Add to that the constant fear that criticism of Bush’s war may make us unpopular with a sizable section of our viewing public, and you come up with the only possible solution: tacit approval. In the kingdom of the mealy mouthed, the jingoistic jackal is king.

Obviously, war in the Mideast is a much bigger story than NO war in the Mideast. At the very least, fevered competition for the story must lead to unconscious war-mongering among media mavens. For parents and teachers who’ve contended for some time that TV trades in violence real and imagined with increasing intensity and frequency, war fever may seem like the logical conclusion to this race to ace the competition.

Now that I’ve foolishly raised the issue of media mayhem, I should try to address the broader notion that violence on TV affects violence in the real world. In the past I’ve argued that our consensual reality and TV Land are separate entities, and that viewers (including children) are aware the ‘twain shall never meet.

Nowadays I’m not so sure that TV violence has no effect on viewers. After all, it’s my job as a Producer to make damn sure we DO have an effect on you. It would be disingenuous for me to claim that our spots and promos create desires and needs in the public’s minds, while our programming leaves no impact at all.

At the same time, every parent I talk to confirms my growing suspicion that kids are under-socialized. It’s true that children are bombarded with violent media, but they’re not balancing media’s effect by going outside to play with other kids. I’m sure there are good reasons we raise shut-in, video-gaming kids – including safety concerns and the sheer physical isolation of the housing developers’ beloved cul de sac. My meager offering to this cauldron of controversy is this: "Yes, we in the media manipulate kids, but parents make it easy for us."

As I kid I watched plenty of violent TV – Rat Patrol, Combat, The Rifleman, and a few pioneering examples of violent reality TV – The Tet Offensive, The 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago. Pretty mild by today’ standards, but in the context of the times, it was strong stuff.

We also played war: pointing sticks at each other, saying “Bang”, then arguing over who was dead and for how long. In arguing, we interacted with all sorts of kids from different backgrounds. If memory serves, we resolved most conflicts by getting bored with war and playing something else.

It’s possible our pathologically obsessed president was under-socialized as a kid. He’s certainly not bored with playing war. From my vantage point inside the belly of the media beast, we seem to be doing little more than cheering him on. The race to get an edge on the other TV guys has us all meaninglessly babbling in tongues like crazed evangelicals. I can’t be the only one who feels like Dashiell Hammett’s Continental Op in “Red Harvest”:

“This burg's getting to me. If I don't get away soon I'll be going blood simple like the natives ... this is the first time I've ever got the fever"

Except the Op snapped out of it and came down to earth. How long till we do the same?
 
¶ 3/12/2003 :: E-mail Pat

 

Southern Comfort

A few months back, I joined a grassroots discussion group organized by Move On. We met with Representative Mel Watt and voiced our concerns about war with Iraq.

Now I admit, I could have crossed district lines (going from District 9 to 12 for any interested numerologists) and spent some quality time with the honorable Sue Myrick. I decided against paying Sue a visit, since I figured I’d have more leverage with Mel. Or to put it in terms less flattering to myself, I chose preaching to the choir rather than shouting at a brick wall. Now I’m sure Ms. Myrick is a perfectly agreeable aging trophy wife. She’s a colorless former Charlotte mayor, a position currently held by an agreeably colorless aging Frat Boy. To be fair, Sue has an impeccable record as a hypocrite. In 1998, she lambasted then president Clinton for adultery, while failing to mention her own affair with a married man in 1973.

Of course, the real reason Sue hated Clinton was because he was such a filthy liar:

"Just before the November 3rd election, my 5-year-old grandson Jake asked his mother if we were going to be electing a new president and upon being told no, we already have a president, Jake replied, "No, we don't. He lied." You know, such principles from the mouths of babes.

"As sad as this is for our nation, this action is necessary so that all of us can continue to not only uphold but teach those basic truths and basic right and wrong in our houses and most assuredly in this House.

"Yes, to err is human, but to lie and deny and vilify rather than that, we need to confess and repair and repent. Just remember, the children are watching."

Stirring sentiments, so I wonder why Sue has remained silent about the current leader of the free world. A quick recap of our Commander in Chief’s less-than-exemplary behavior includes lying about going AWOL, lying about driving while drunk, lying about dabbling in insider trading, and possibly lying about a subsequently stonewalled drug bust.

I guess Ms. Myrick’s concern for the children has morphed into garden variety childishness: “It’s not what you lie about that matters, it’s all about the conditions under which you lie.” Clinton lied under oath, while Dubya lied while not under oath. Right?

Well, maybe that won’t fly. Maybe it’s not about this oath thing at all, perhaps the real acid test is: “Do you like the guy who’s lying?” Using this iron clad logic, Ollie North lying about committing treason is far better than Clinton lying about a blowjob. Or to lay it on the table (so to speak), lying under oath about giving succor to our enemies is okay, lying under oath about sucking a dick is an outrage. Remember, the children are watching.

This could be useless wool-gathering, trying to decipher the inner workings of Sue Myrick’s mind, since she may just be an idiot. Still, I felt a surge of hometown pride when she was name-checked by Tom Tomorrow.

Sue’s concern about an insidious Islamic conspiracy of convenience store managers may seem silly at first blush, but you must remember that we in the Carolinas take our Convenience Stores seriously. Where do you think we’re going to get our milk and bread the next time a snowstorm blows through? (The milk and bread issue does raise a thorny moral issue though. Since I believe these two items are hoarded every snowfall to make emergency supplies of French toast, how can good, patriotic Carolinians eat any cuisine containing the word “FRENCH”? We’ve already lead the nation in banning Beaujolais and FRENCH-fries. And since the Turks are still balking at being overrun by US troops, I suspect Turkish Taffy will soon join the list of forbidden foods.)

I’m not familiar with the Honorable Howard Coble, the other fine North Carolinian law maker quoted by Tom Tomorrow, but I’m heartened to see that he’s keeping pace with Sue Myrick in the racism sweepstakes. I don’t for a minute believe that Tomorrow is specifically targeting the state I currently call home for ridicule. It’s just that if you’re looking for racists, the Carolinas are a barrel of fish simply begging for the shooting.

These gentle rolling hills are rife with the spiritual heirs of racist Dixiecrats, and in the case of Methuselahs like Jesse Helms and Strom Thurmond, actual relics from the Dixiecrat Era.

This is hardly a coincidence. When I lived in Florida, very few people I knew rallied to the cause of the fallen Confederacy. Here in the Carolinas hardly a month goes by without me hearing an illuminating lesson on how slavery had nothing to do with the Civil War. About a month ago, a Charlotte-born-and-raised friend of mine launched into this tired tirade, and I cut short with this: “Then explain the Missouri Compromise to me.”

Of course, the conversation ground to a halt. The Missouri Compromise brought real history into a quasi-historical/quasi-mythological discussion – where a legitimate point like “slavery was not the only cause of the war” drifted hazy and lazy, like a southern drawl, into a dewy eyed view of Aunt Jezebel sippin’ a julep on the verandah, while happy darkies sang in the gathering dusk. It’s a rosy backward glance at a jasmine-scented past of institutionalized racism.

Don’t get me wrong. Racism exists everywhere. And if white folks are truly honest, we may find that we all harbor the faintest vestige of racism in some dark corner of our souls. But if the great South is ever going to overcome its own particular brand of this ongoing crime against humanity, it’s got to get its head out of its ass.
 
¶ 3/5/2003 :: E-mail Pat