Berlin Wall

A woman on the radio talked about revolution
when it’s already passed her by
Bob Dylan didn’t have this to sing about you
you know it feels good to be alive

I was stationed in West Germany at the time, and even though the collapse of the Warsaw Pact was imminent, there was no great trepidation or heightened threat-com, other than stay away from the celebrations and let the Germans have their moment without everyone else tailgating onto it.  Trabis scattered along the road shoulders had been a common sight, and everyone knew the jig was up, and were just waiting for it to happen.

I was alive and I waited, waited
I was alive and I waited for this
Right here, right now
there is no other place I want to be
Right here, right now
watching the world wake up from history

It was surreal to see, on the AFN broadcast of American national news, events that were playing out just a couple hundred miles away from base.  The storming of the Stasi headquarters and the raiding/destruction of the personal files.  The nightly demonstrations in East Germany and Czechoslovakia.  The anticipation, the waiting for it, the final countdown, and not one of dread, but one of hope, life, and freedom.

I saw the decade in, when it seemed
the world could change at the blink of an eye
And if anything
then there’s your sign… of the times

The 1980’s began with the age old fear of nuclear winter, mutually assured destruction, brinksmanship.  We had a cold enemy ready to dish it out in droves, and who was on the advance throughout the world.  But the staunch stand of the West, led by the great three, Reagan, Thatcher, and John Paul II, found a way to stop, then undermine and subvert, this evil.

And I was lucky enough to be over there at the time when we defeated yet another world threat, this time without a massive loss of life but for Romania.  People forget what residents of the East went through.  Getting shot trying to go over the wall, traveling 100’s of miles to soft spots in the border around Austria, hiding under cars going back to West Berlin.  Registering their typewriters in case any dangerous pamphlets came up that could be forensically traced to the thumb print of their machines.  Getting reported on by their neighbors and family.

Right here, right now
there is no other place I want to be
Right here, right now
watching the world wake up from history

In italics, the song Right Here Right Now by Jesus Jones, about this night and all that went with it.

Hammer Gone

For whatever reason, Hammer retired his blog.  Hopefully, he can still comment on other blogs, and will remain in the swing, but I doubt it.  Oh, well, it was a good read while it lasted.

Saturn

All the local Saturn dealers are closing, so I stopped in Wednesday on a whim to see the final lineup of offerings.  The showroom was empty, and being disassembled.  Only a couple of luxury cars were outside.

When I bought this one, it was going to either be it, a Toyota, or a Honda.  I opted for the American car due to its good name, and was not disappointed.  Nor were a score of Saturn owners whom I’ve known.  Some things in life are synonymous with good workmanship.  Like the old Zenith commercial, “the quality goes in before the name goes on.”  Swiss Army knife.  Timex watch.  Leatherman tool.  I add the Saturn.

The name was launched as an answer to all the ills of American cars.  Tired of scamming salesmen?  No haggle pricing.  Crap cars that dent, crease, and rust out and break in half after 50,000 miles?  How about a polymer car with a safety frame, so when it’s hit, the other vehicle doesn’t go right through it like it was a Japanese paper house.  Just change the oil every 3,000 miles, and all the rest WILL run well, and wear out at a very acceptable time.

GM was wrong to horse with the winning game plan in the 2000’s, and to finally kill the name instead of bringing it back to its founding roots.

Saturn would have been the only reason to still buy American. Except for trucks, I cannot see buying a Ford.  Good luck GM, and good luck Chrysler, after they did their dealers so wrongly after the election.  May they enjoy the same success under government control that British Leyland did when the GB government ran it.

License Plate

I had no worries about passing the emissions test with the pickup.  The diagnostic wiring is all a mess, so passing was not a consideration.  If/when it fails, I just plate it for 10,000 pounds instead of 7000, and I’m not subject to an emissions test anymore.

But no, they just changed that law.  There were too many SUV’s using that work around, and to stop them, they also stopped everyone with a work vehicle.  And I cannot get a farm vehicle plate.  So I went off to my mechanic, who knows the thing best.  I’ll most likely get a new catalytic converter, a tune-up, and erg sensor, then see if that works.  It used to be, you spend a certain amount (about the price of a decent tune-up) with any mechanic, and bring your receipt for a waiver.  Now you have to spend the money, AND the vehicle has to pass.

We all know who makes rules like this, laws about which Tam says, “Ignorance is no excuse for a law.”  Some nancy-boy in a tweed jacket with elbow patches, round glasses, and a scraggy neck beard working for Greenpeace lobbied to get the laws cinched up to keep evil, wealthy conservatives like me from melting polar bear ice floes with their massive particle plumes.

Except my vehicle is in top condition.  Despite its age, the engine has tremendous power, does not leak, is somewhat fuel efficient for a V6, and is mounted to a fine transmission that grabs and goes at the first bit of release of the clutch.  The exhaust is clean, both running empty, and under a load with a fully loaded trailer.

But some hippie wants to save the planet for Mother Gaia. So the working man has to take a $500 hit right before Christmas for that.  And this is all agency law, so what appeal?  There is no appeal.

Update: it’ll cost nigh $1000 to make it pass.  New catalytic converter, new fuel tank because the pinhole weeping is a symptom of the total tank being rusted through, which I knew, but was using undercoating to hold it together just one more day, and it was more of a water balloon than a solid tank, due to the undercoating membrane itself actually being a good section of the tank.  Of course, sending unit and holding straps, too!

Pretentious

I am a pretentious tool.  Not only do I have most of the traits covered in this month’s Details Magazine’s 63 points, I have some traits NOT covered therein.  So let’s get to the points (those that fit me are in italics), and if you wish, you can comment on how close these describe you, too.  I don’t tag with meme’s, but I’ll invite you to join in, or make your own post:

• You have your ties taken in. I wear ties whose width matches current style, and store the rest, so that’s about the same.
• You have a typewriter, thermos, or telescope collection.
• You’ve made your own ricotta. It wasn’t ricotta, but it was cheese, and it was good.
• You have a travel outfit, and it coordinates.
• You’re “way over” Wayfarers.
• You’ve taken an inspiration photo to your hairstylist. Back when I had hair, yeah.
• You think about the lighting at restaurants. And the decor, and the music.  I’m not paying for the food, I’m paying for the venue.
• You own eye cream, and you use it.
• You host brunch.
• You take off work the day before you host brunch.
• You want to go to Japan—for the shopping.
• You have sage growing on your windowsill.
  
• You don’t let your girlfriend borrow your sweaters, because you’re afraid she’ll stretch them out.  My girlfriends always run tiny framed and small breasted, so that’s not a worry.
• You have letterpress stationery. My letters come wearing a three piece suit, baby.
• You watch TV only on DVD. The DTV box still sits next to the TV, and the DVD died in a power surge.  I am TV free.
• You own a pair of white jeans.
• Your stapler comes from a design store. Red Swingline stapler.
• You invest in vinyl.
• You think Zach Galifianakis is just so funny.  Who is he?
• You have a facialist, and you see her more than your parents.
• You miss the warmth of 35mm film. 35mm was crap.  I yearn for the 6×6 cm medium format days, shot through a Zeiss lens.  Clarity, AND tonal range.
• You have seasonal scarves. The scarf is more important than the coat.
• You prefer the British version of anything. Usually.
• You watch “Le Tour.”
• You suggested your girlfriend get Anne Hathaway’s haircut. No, I prefer they have long hair.  And I like to dress ‘em, too.
• You can name an architect who isn’t one of the Franks. Mies, Burnham, and one of the most talented (though a thoroughly disgusting person), Bernini.
• You’re a Facebook fan of a food cart or truck.
• You tell your trainer you want to strengthen your core.
• You own a Moleskine. Moleskine is old and dead.  I  own the New Hotness, the Picadilly.
• You’ve referred to an event as a “gala.”
• You’ve ever tasted “notes” in a beer. I just happen to be in a microbrewer’s Private Club, so there.
• You’ve recommended your tailor to a friend. My seamstress, I have.
• You know this great little tapas place. Right here!
• You know how to spell Sarsgaard and Gyllenhaal.
• You own a _______-doodle dog. I’d like to be able to afford one.
• You use periods instead of dashes in phone numbers.
• You ski.
• You have a thing for typefaces. Gil Sans for computer type is great (the small case is horrible:  just use smaller sized capital case), and Georgia for print.
• You listen to Grizzly Bear.  No.
• You double-kiss.
• Your business venture has a social-networking component.
• You style the roll on your jeans.
• You’d go to Miami only for Basel.  I can see Basel in a book.
• You photograph your food.
• Your favorite late-night host is Craig Ferguson. Because since Carson, all others suck.  Liking Ferguson is like a grudge f**k.
• You disapprove of your girlfriend’s lingerie if it’s not La Perla. I disapprove of lingerie.
• You’ve refrained from buying a book because it had the Oprah’s Book Club insignia on it.
• You strive to be shot by the Sartorialist.
• You are the Sartorialist.  Who the heck is the Sartorialist, and why should I care?
• You think the only acceptable fast food is In-N-Out.
• You want to visit Marfa.
• You “have a guy” at the cheese shop.
• You’re secretly embarrassed by your girlfriend.
• You subscribe to Monocle.
• You think you’re down with lesbian chefs.
• You know the difference between skinny and stovepipe. Though I could wear neither, even when I had a 34 waist.
• You’ve sung the praises of a professional shave.
• You know the correct pronunciation of açaí.
• You think Marni is fantastic.
• You frequent a bar without signage.
• You’ve crossed state lines for a flea market.
• You have a favorite animated documentary.
• You don’t vacation—you holiday.

I have things that I do which should qualify for extra credit, too:

• I use a fountain pen.
• If I know the correct pronunciation of foreign words, I use it.
• I strive to speak and write proper English, and not sound like I just got off a Hegewisch loading dock.
• I’ll use DDMMYY format and 24 hours whenever practical.
• I only drink loose leaf tea.
• I really do like sushi

Peace Prize Winner Bombs the Moon

The very day Obama wins the Nobel Peace Prize, NASA hit the moon with a rocket to test the amount of water on the moon.  Oh, don’t ask me how that’s supposed to work out.  Of course, liberals are upset at this bombing campaign:

We need to communicate to the Moon. Talk to her in our dreams, trances, or meditations, and prepare her for this shock and wound as best we can. Hold her, send out imaginative protection to her, and put our dream bodies out there in front of the bomb. Collectively, we can sabotage the bombing or by imagining all manner of things going wrong, or encouraging the Moon to increase her own magnetic shields. Sing to her. Give her back just a tiny portion of all that she has done for us.

Is It, or Isn’t It?

Interesting news about the Lost Ark.  The Patriarch of the Ethiopian Church announced that it was time to reveal the Ark.  The next day, he retracted the offer.

Goth

After dressing up like this all year long

what do Goths dress like on Halloween?

Saddam

The way the left had latched onto Saddam as almost an anti-hero of theirs continues to baffle me.  For decades during the Cold War, we practiced realpolitik and supported many strong men and dictators, from Somoza to Pinochet, from Marcos to the Shah, and all they did was make hay about how wrong we were top have supported such tyrants as a bulwark against the spread of communism.

The trouble is, when you’re fighting a cold war against an enemy that will find communists to back for an overthrow in every country, you can’t afford to be so choosy about who agrees to support you in a world this competitive.  The U.S. tried to get many regimes to reform and liberalize, sometimes successfully (Philippines, South Korea), and sometimes it cost us dearly (Iran).

But once the Cold War ended with the fall of the wall in 1989, and the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, we had a golden opportunity to redeem ourselves and prove that we were no friend of tyranny and dictators, that our Cold War alliance with oppressive regimes was for our survival alone, and not out of an American fondness for tin horn dictators and military juntas.  We could’ve withdrawn foreign aid to ferment revolution against oppressors.

The war we couldn’t have to unseat Pinochet or the Argentine generals, we could have against Saddam.  We couldn’t strafe Santiago, Chile with a carpet bombing campaign, or level government buildings across Buenos Aires, since communism was on the advance in the 1980’s, but we sure can go in and liberate Iraq, with a freedom loving ticket-tape parade like it was the liberation of Paris in 1944.  So how could the left be so against this war?  Easy.  Because it was launched by a Republican, and not a liberal Democrat.  They’d rather see tyranny hurt people than see someone not of their own team bringing freedom to a people.

Players, Scorecard

You have to help me here, for I keep getting confused.  Anti-war liberals mock and make fun of the killing of Blackwater personnel and celebrate their display on a bridge, but when it’s anti-abortion conservatives who have no sympathy for an abortion doctor being killed over the weekend, the response is why, how beastly of them.

For eight years, BushChimpHitler may as well have been the president’s name, but feature a monkey putting a stimulus package bill together (and the monkey was supposed to be Congress, not the president), and that is called inappropriate and out of line.  Protesters endlessly harass a Cheney lawyer with continuous protest – at the end of the lawyer’s driveway, even encroaching upon his private property to scrawl insults on the driveway, and it’s okay, but dare you or I hold a protest at an abortion clinic, and we’ll have the RICO law thrown our way.

Newt Gingrich apologized for calling Sotomayor a racist for her blatantly racist statements, but has anyone apologized to Trent Lott for calling him a racist for saying positive things about Strom Thurmond?