Rod Amis - Unbound

ROD ON POLITICS:

OUR FRIEND ARIANNA HUFFINGTON IS BACK doing her regular column again and sending them to my e-mail box. I found what she had to say this past week worth sharing with you, my little loves. This is just a snippet of the column. You can read it in its entirety at her Web site.

... the report, which was slipped to the press earlier this month after being kept under wraps by the White House for four months, was commissioned by Andrew Marshall, a legendary DOD figure, nicknamed "Yoda" for his sagacity. As head of the Pentagon's secretive Office of Net Assessment, Marshall has offered national security assessments to every president since Richard Nixon.

And this latest assessment pegs climate change as a far greater danger than even the scourge of international terrorism.

Dryly entitled "An Abrupt Climate Change Scenario and Its Implications for United States National Security," the report reads like the plot summary of the upcoming Dennis Quaid doomsday flick, "The Day After Tomorrow," in which global warming pushes the planet to the edge of anarchy and annihilation.

But this scenario is not science fiction. According to the Pentagon study, the question is not if abrupt climate change will happen, but when. It could be, according to the report's authors, as soon as the next three years, with the most devastating fallout potentially occurring between 2010 and 2020.

At that point, we could find ourselves in the midst of a new ice age in which mega-droughts devastate the world's food supply, drinkable water becomes a luxury worth going nuclear over, 400 million people are forced to migrate from uninhabitable areas, and riots and wars for survival become commonplace.

I believe that would qualify as a Red Alert in Tom Ridge's color-coded book.

But the Bush White House remains unwilling to address -- or even acknowledge -- this looming peril. Instead, the oiligarchs in the administration continue to fiddle while the atmosphere starts to burn, routinely ignoring scientific evidence and international consensus, and casting a questioning eye on the very idea, let alone the fact, of global warming. It's a stance that has warmed the hearts -- globally, no doubt -- of the Bush Pioneers and Rangers in the oil and energy industry, making them feel very generous indeed.

As last week's release of a scathing letter signed by 60 prominent scientists -- including 20 Nobel laureates and former science advisers to both Republican and Democratic administrations -- makes clear, the Bush administration has made an art out of ignoring science. Particularly when it comes to the issue of global warming.

Who can forget the president's famous CO2 flip-flop, or the way the White House tried to force so many changes to a section of an EPA report dealing with climate change that Christie Todd Whitman finally threw up her hands and decided to eliminate the section on global warming altogether?

But blinding the voters with pseudo-science may no longer be an option now that the Pentagon report threatens to put the issue front and center -- and reframe it as a key component of our national security debate.

This is particularly good news for John Kerry, should he prevail, given his long history of leading the charge in the Senate to cut down on greenhouse gases by raising fuel efficiency standards for cars and trucks. The president, of course, has done just the opposite, giving Kyoto the kiss-off, and pushing through unconscionable loopholes that reward gas-guzzling monster SUVs and allow carmakers to effectively reduce fuel economy for millions of the vehicles they sell.

One of the defining traits of leadership is the ability to see not just the crisis right in front of you, but the one lurking around the next corner ...

To which all I can say is: "You go, Girl!"

Yours Unruly has been on the JOHN KERRY FOR PRESIDENT bandwagon since last autumn, as you know, my loves. Even before our friends in the Mouthpiece Media began talking about "electability" being the buzzword for this racehorse season, I suggested to you that Senator Kerry possessed all the experience and qualifications for your nation's highest office that have been sorely lacking in the electoral process for more moons than I'd like to count. To my plaint to former Democratic Party chair Ron Brown in an Open Letter years ago, "Send in the Real President", I have finally received an answer. I'm chuffed that the voters in most of the Dem' primaries thus far concur with my call. I hope that you shall, too, my love.

(I can now admit that you scared me with your blatant flirtation with Dr. Dean, who I could never take seriously. But that's the old curmudgeon and former political hack side of me coming to the fore. At least we both agreed that George W. Bush has to go back to Crawford, Texas.)

---

1 March, 2004: FOR "GLASS HOUSE" FANS this entry shall prove to be a feast. It promises to be longest I've ever produced on these pages. That means, of course, that I'll produce a much more truncated version of this diary in our Anniversary Extravaganza next week. I'll be busy with the editorial process and involved in finishing up the Web site I'm developing for my client out East. So my hope is to satiate your desire this week, my love. Next week it's all about "chasing paper." (Thanks and a tip of the hat to Matt Stowell.)

ROD ON U.S. FOREIGN POLICY

AS HAITI'S FORMER PRESIDENT, JEAN BERTRAND ARISTIDE, DECAMPS this morning, I cannot but remind you, Lover, what was said in this space during the Clinton Administration's re-installation of that man. I called it bad policy then and a sham-version of supporting democracy in our hemisphere. As far as I was concerned then and still believe today, the United States has never, ever, in its long history of interventions, ever fostered democracy in another country. Never. U.S. intervention is a prescription for disaster. Ask the Serbs. Ask the Russians. And, yes, now, ask the Haitians.

As I look at His Fraudulency's failed reaction and his attempts at nation-building in the Middle East, you know what I think. I look on with disdain and remorse, as should you.

Our 100 Marines are in Haiti to make sure that they don't try boat trips to Florida. More Marines are on the way. That's a fact, my loves. You and I both know that this country has never been hot on Black immigrants.

And, as to how Aristide left the country, Yours Unruly only has one question: Who in his right mind would voluntarily choose to go to the Central African Republic? Kidnapped? Maybe. Coerced? Definitely.

The Bush Junta cut ALL, all, aid to Haiti on the first day they were in power. The Haitian insurgents miraculously made it from the Dominican Republic armed with American-made weapons that they miraculously found the money to buy. Do I need to connect all the dots for you?

Colin Powell is lying again. Again. This man has no honor .

---

3 March, 2004: CONGRATULATIONS, AMERICA. YOU AGREED WITH THE OLD CURMUDGEON about Senator Kerry. Now, unless we witness a coup in this country like the one in Haiti, let's send the Bush junta back to the Stone Age where they have resided for the last three years anyway.

Let's take our country back. We can do it.

---

7 March, 2004: IN MANY WAYS I AM STARTING TO FEEL LIKE Michelangelo as portrayed in the film "The Agony and the Ecstasy". When will I make an end? Not just with this three-dot essay my love but also with everything I do these days. The database project that supposedly ended on Friday was expanded during my training session with the primary staff of the real estate agency on Saturday. The Web site I'm building for the housing advisory group out of Pennsylvania which was supposedly deadlined for the Ides of March is incomplete.

My boss when I was teaching a course at Santa Rosa Junior College once quipped that I should devise a new course entitled, "How to Schedule Cancellations". Life seems a circle on days like this.

The theory goes that you should be reading this tomorrow, my dear. We'll see.

This entry is my effort to make an end.

Next week, when I publish our Anniversary Edition, I'll tell you the rest of what I am holding in my heart right now.

Let it suffice for the moment to divulge that I debating with myself the very nature of the relationship of body and soul. I wrestle with the question ceaselessly and without sleep.

LISTEN: I saw a woman while I was working on a renovation for my once-and-future boss, Stephen, who I felt I had known before and was drawn towards - so much so that I contemplated the bold imposition of simply crossing the street, where she sat smoking a cigarette and reading a book, and striking up a conversation. I did not at the time.

I'm now working with the self-same woman. Yesterday, she told me that I don't push myself enough. (Something we've heard before, yes?) She said that if I won't or can't sell myself and my skills, at her company, then she will do it for me.

There is always a woman in my stories, isn't there?

I'm not sure why. I have always exclaimed (explained?) that I don't understand women in the least. But it seems that women understand me.

Superman went out with a woman from Long Island today. He spent all my money on her and then she told him that she wants nothing to do with men.

Thanks, Superman.

---

AND, YES, SOMETIMES, MY LOVE, I FORGET that I am the Dragon-slayer. You have to remind me of that.

THE DRAGON-SLAYER SPEAKS

LATE UPDATE: 11 March, 2004: This week, while dealing with my frustration about not bringing this edition out on schedule -- and the resultant delay in our Anniversary edition, I had also to deal with the issue of my relationship with myself. (I could easily have said, "... the troublesome issue...". I completely understand that my dealings with others are predicated on how I deal with myself and I know that's a touch-and-go situation.

While reading my friend Darhl's Redneck Riviera, I could not but be impressed by how Dennis Covington viewed everything in his existence through the prism of his relationship with his father. I don't believe I do the same, since me and mine did not have much of a relationship to speak of; rather, in my case, it was the mother who made the difference.

While channel-surfing this week and attempting to get a handle on how "average" (and therefore, seemingly, well-adjusted) Americans deal with such issues, I came upon a program, during the local public television station's fund drive, which featured one of those pop-culty, motivational speakers. His book, seminar or whatever-it-was had a title along the lines of "The Power of Intention." I could not stomach more than fifteen minutes of his drivel but came away in awe that he could get a thousand people -- the number in the hall where the broadcast was taped -- to pony up good money to listen to this claptrap for hours. Not one of this thousand looked as if they had ever gone hungry a day in their lives. The cities in which they lived had never been bombed by hostile aircraft. None of them, as far as it appeared, had ever had their electricity turned off or been evicted or bankrupted.

So, even worse in my view, was the notion that, possibly, thousands -- even hundreds of thousands -- of other people would pony up even more good money for tapes of his soothing and facile nostrums. His basic message? Stay close to "The Source"(of all human creativity and endeavor. Read: Your Higher Power) and project positive energy. In short: Good things happen to good people.

Malarkey.

BAD THINGS can and often do happen to good people here on planet Earth.

I was hoping to hear something besides "I'm Okay, You're Okay." To which my typical rejoinder these days is: "So why do so many of us Okay people take Prozac or some other anti-depressant, drink ourselves into the grave, etc.?"

Why are we so lonely, depressed, desperate (in the sense Thoreau used that word, at the very least) and unhinged?

There's no Feel Good answer for that kind of question if your mind is still functioning, I've found. The Feel Good answers only work if you're willing to accept the religion, ideology or philosophy du jour. And I, for one, don't want to go blindly into my Goodnight.

	"The writer thanked the producers for the lovely paycheck. Then he shot them." writelikegod.com
	When is the last time you talked politics with your dog? dogshatebush.com

I'll provide you only one example, my love. You will never be able to convince me that the two thousand killed or injured in the terrorist bombing of the commuter train in Spain today did not have enough "positive energy." Positive energy didn't have one damned thing to do with their fates. Not one.

I bring this up for a second reason: I now know that I am living each day at risk here in Nawlins. It's not just paranoia if someone is out to get you. So I write to you with a new urgency, as each word from me to you could be my last. I both dread and accept these latter facts. I hope you will remember that I consciously chose to keep bringing you insights to a larger view of the world while living with this threat. I (mostly) hope that you will miss me after I'm silenced.

But that's another matter for another time.

This time I am speaking about my relationship to myself ... Touch-and-go. Yes. Somedays the morning coffee tastes exquisite and I enter the day with a sense of confidence and an appreciation for the blessings I do have. I have lived in the same place for a year now -- the longest stretch since I've been in New Orleans. I live alone. The walls are a bit thin, so I do hear some of my neighbors activities when they are loud ones, but my domain is my own. Well, mine and the finches'. Somehow I cobble together odd jobs. Like many here, it's a below subsistence kind of life.

On other days the coffee can be acrid and make me feel tense, jittery, on-edge. Things fall apart. I worry about where the next cigarette will come from, let alone the next meal. I wonder when it will no longer have to be one pot of beans after the next ... Blessings recede when survival seems so tough. Self-esteem goes below the watermark and that treadmill feeling sets in. No amount of up-beat chatter from well-meaning friends can put a dent in a funk like that. It's difficult to do anything.

Those are the days when you wonder about The Secret Key to it all -- you know, fulfilment, happiness, prosperity, the lot of it that we're supposed to believe is our birthright.

Love, too, of course.

What I know is that I'm not alone in these feelings or this way of relating to myself and my world. Many more people around the world know days of hunger, like me, than don't. Perhaps not such a high percentage in this country, but look elsewhere. There are more people in the world like me than the Feel Good ethos of my own country -- and especially the artificial version of that portrayed on television -- would make us feel. By that, I mean that there are more people who spend days without food, in deference to shelter or some other need, more people barely scraping along or not making it at all, more people living with the constant fear of falling through the cracks of life, than the combined customer bases of Macy's, Nieman Marcus and Sony. We're the people you're not supposed to think about. We're not active members of the consumer society. Shopping is not a recreational activity for most of us but rather something done with wolf-like cunning - when we do it at all.

We don't own the latest and greatest, we try to make things last -- sometimes with the aid of chewing gum, paper clips and string -- for years longer than they were intended. We wear second-hand clothes and live in a second-hand world. We're the people you're not supposed to think about. We're also the majority of the people on earth.

Goodness, intelligence, education, religion, race -- none of these statuses have anything to do with our plight. It is structural. I have to accept that when I am being objective; it is structural. That realization doesn't make me feel better, personally, though.

While intellectually recognizing that the very underpinnings of the society in which I have to live are meant to make people like myself invisible, as Ralph Ellison wisely noted in the middle of the last century, I am emotionally angered by that knowledge. And I'm politically angered whenever I'm confronted with another example of a rush toward greater rather than less callousness. That underlies the political positions you find in what seems a personal reflection in these "Glass Houses"; the personal is political.

I have a sense that you have felt these things, my love, even if you have not taken the time to express them.

Things I Need This Week

1. A lover.

2. A clear idea of where I'll be working next. OR to cobble together enough part-time gigs to make ends meet.

3. More discipline in managing my time.

---

Thanks for coming back this week.

"Work like you don't need the money,
"Love like you've never been hurt,
"Dance like no one is watching ... "
Rod

Search www.generator21.net [ ] Our Link Partners the Web for

ROD AMIS has published this magazine since 1990. It first appeared as a hardcopy 'Zine. In March, 1996, he launched it here on the Web. Rod was a Contributing Editor at Suite101.com, where he wrote the " 'Net Publishing" feature. His work has been featured in the San Francisco Bay Guardian Online, NRV8, and at WebLab's Reality Check site. Rod was also a contributing writer on technology for Faulkner Information Services. He wrote on Web issues for MethodFive.com's Hyper newsletter.

Rod was a columnist for the Andover News Network, where he wrote over two hundred articles on web design and development issues. He was also principal writer and Editor for IT Manager's Journal, where he reviewed technology issues weekly, producing 383 editorials. He became the Managing Editor for Electronic Mail/Newsletter Publications at Andover.net at the end of February, 2000, and left in September of the same year. He was a contributing writer for ACCESS magazine, which appeared both on- and offline for 10 million readers in 100 newspapers like the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Post, Boston Herald, Austin American-Statesman, Denver Post and Orlando Sentinel, among others. Rod was the US reporter for Silicon.com, a division of Network Multimedia Television in London, UK, reaching 3.5 million European readers, until May, 2001.

In 2002, he worked as Assistant to the General Manager of a Big Easy company that does restaurants and nightclubs. (Think: The Boy.) Oh yeah, Rod's had Day Jobs working construction. Mostly renovations of old New Orleans structures, houses and a bar. Sometimes he designs Web sites for other people so that he can get his creative juices flowing the way he can't at a staid publication like this one. And he's been the instructor in Editing for Internet Publications at the Novi Sad School of Journalism in Yugoslavia. Our Resident Philosopher is attempting to secure enough part-time work to perhaps equal the income of a single good full-time position. In his spare time, he chases women in the manner that a fly pursues a spider.

Rod barely survives in New Orleans, Louisiana. This town is eroding his normal sense of driven purpose. He wants to live somewhere civilized when he grows up. Wish him Luck.

Rod is "noodling" with idea of a Glass House book. (Are you listening, Timothy?) He also has a screenplay and a(nother) proposed novel in queue.

He continues to be committed to integrity, chastity and a dose of humility.

---

| HOME | THE PREVIOUS GLASS HOUSE | THE NEXT GLASS HOUSE |

CREDITS || AWARDS || SEARCH ENGINES || LINKS ||
VOX POPULI is YOUR PAGE to talk back to us. I'm glad you're not bashful. Keep those cards and e-mails comin', Kids!

Search our Site:

sitemap

RETURN TO TOP OF PAGE

---

Our Editor does listen!

© 2004, GENERATOR 21.

E-mail your comments. We always like to hear from you. Send your kudos, brickbats and suggestions to info@generator21.net.