George Bush & the Geometry problem

Test question from George Bush's college Geometry 202 class.

President Bush lights up the "c***suckers" in the press

President George W. Bush, acknowledged his stunning freefall in the polls, saying on Thursday that his unpopular decisions have hurt his standing but that it "comes with the territory and you. . .you've got to stand on what you believe." A year into his second term, Bush is beset with a job approval rating of 36 percent, with Americans disapproving of his handling of the war the U.S. economy, the Dubai ports fiasco, and other issues that just won't go away. His popularity among Republicans is now falling even faster than his approval ratings among the public at large.

An Associated Press reporter asked if President Bush accepts responsibility "Or do you continue to blame the press for your drop in popularity?"

The President angrily shot back "Will the press continue to fan the flames? You f***ers know you will. I've never seen such a gang of backbiting drunkards in my life...every one of you sonofab****es has poked a shiv into me whenever you had the chance. There was a time when you c***suckers in the press knew your place. If I was LBJ, you'd be Windexing the sneezeguards at the Olive Garden now. If I was Nixon, you'd just disappear after a friendly drive with Chuck Colson or Gordon Liddy. Yeah, twenty years ago, we'd make an example of a few of you and the rest of you pieces of s***would fall into line. . ."

Members of the White House communications staff called the press conference to an immediate close and escorted The President from the briefing room. Other communications staff asked the press to "voluntarily relinquish all tapes and recordings" of the conference. "We are a nation at war. The last thing we need is to embarrass The President publicly." The President's tirade was fed live to various internet news sites, where it spread rapidly among the websites and blogs that follow national politics.
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Here's mud in your eye: Bono says Bob Geldof nearly spat on Tony Blair

U2 honcho Bono got between Sir Bob Geldof and P.M. Tony Blair to prevent him from hocking a 'loog at the Prime Minister, according to contactmusic.com

After Geldof became agitated, Bono stepped in to shield the P.M. from a spit shower. Bono said: "I have seen Geldof try to bite prime ministers. I accept the rules of ultimate fighting, which are: you can't poke someone in the eye or bite them, and Bob doesn't."
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Jerry Melin, still missing, still missed

Click photo to enlarge...

[Dear readers: forgive me, because I have published most of this previously here. But it's that time of year when my thoughts return to Mel, and if you missed it the first time around, it may be even better as a leftover].

I'll never forget--as long as I'm compos mentis--the morning Dorothea Melin called me to tell me the news. It was about 7:00 in the morning. I was taking a shower and my son Colum came in and said Dot's on the phone for you. And I knew. I knew it as sure as I'd known it that day on May 19, 1964, when I rode home on my bicycle from a baseball game and saw my mom standing on our back porch watching for me to arrive home. He's gone.

It was this week he died. His funeral was held on St. Patrick's Day. Click here to hear a recording I made of him in about 1980 as Senator Jerry Melin.

Or click here to hear Jack and Jerry discussing Shakespeare and "self-love." Or click here to hear Mel describe his meeting with Allen Ginsberg at the Grass Roots Tavern on St. Mark's Place.

Seven years ago, Jerry Melin, died in Marin County, California (where he lived near The Grateful Dead, a band we both loved). He even met a few of them during his years in Ross. Mel's death was a jackhammer blow; a blow I still try to understand and absorb. There is not a day when I don't think of him often, all these years later. Even now--last night, in fact--there are things I want to tell him; things so strange, or amazing, or bent, or obscure and ethereal, that only he could plug in to them. And yet my loss is nothing like that experienced by Dot, and his three wonderful daughters. Whenever I see them, I know that he's smiling and maybe bragging them up to Gabriel and St. Peter.

Mel died instantly of a heart attack in the middle of a tennis match. His wife, Dorothea, asked if I could speak a eulogy at his funeral. I wasn't sure I could, if I could even write it. I wasn't thinking right. Somehow, 'though, I felt Mel peer over my shoulder and was able to get something on paper. I was even able to deliver the eulogy in a packed church without completely breaking down. It wasn't looking at his widow or his three young daughters, or all our friends, or the people of Ross that got me through it. I asked myself "what would Jerry do?" How had Jerry managed the deaths of our friends Phil, Peter, Jannah, Colin, or his father? It was not by boohooing...that was not his way. The Way was to realize it's over and go from there, and celebrate. "You celebrate them by digging that we're here, " he would say, "there's plenty of time to be pushing daisies. You celebrate them by celebrating this. Dig this and dig it now because tomorrow never knows, as that hippie Beatle sang."

I gave a eulogy at his funeral in March, 1999:

Eulogy for Jerry Philip Melin

[This first paragraph about the church I ad-libbed at the funeral and wrote down when I got on the plane that night].

I look around this church, and I see--what?-- Three Hundred People? I know Jerry would have been amazed; he would be amused. This is half the town of Ross, California. Jerry never dreamed he could sell out a Catholic Church. It's S.R.O.--Standing Room Only--here. It should be. No, Jerry could not have dreamt this. I wonder if it's some kind of dream myself. But I know it isn't, because we are here, together. And I wish we weren't.

My earliest Jerry memory might be the Letterman's Jacket Incident. Jerry lettered in gymnastics, and had later made "improvements" to his Kent Meridian High School letterman's jacket. In addition to a carefully rendered, bright white rendition of Mister Zig-Zag on the back, he reversed the letters on his jacket to read MK. The football coach stopped him one day and asked (I'll try my dumb coach voice): "Hey­­ what's this MK jazz stand for?"

When Jerry answered "Mein Kampf," the coach, of course, went absolutely bananas. Jerry had to surrender the Jacket eventually because it violated several rules, but for Jer this was a personal triumph, beating anything he'd done on the parallel bars or the rings, and leaving his vaulting wins far in the dust. He'd riled The Man.

Over the years, I called him at various times--of the names I can actually say in church--Jed, Jer, Mel, Bart (referring to the Hobart Dump), Jeddy and even sometimes, Jerry. These last few years we settled into Mel, and he called me either Doc, or Jack.

He was a skilled artist, creating bawdy cartoons of people locked in improbable combinations and situations, and incredible William Blake-inspired drawings of sinners and angels. He was a skilled stockmarket analyst and a securities trading wiz (not bad for a guy with a degree in English literature). He wrote chilling fiction and fantasy, often in stream of consciousness bursts, folded into those twenty page letters from Mexico, Alaska, Greece, Bellingham, Manhattan or Seattle. He was an introspective philosopher who could keep you up all night discussing The Big Ideas, and Art and Women and Godhead. Jerry was also a prankster unparalleled. I could go on about that alone forever. Jerry was an adoring husband, a doting father, and a friend whose intensity swallowed you up. You knew he loved you.

I tried to find my box of letters, stories, drawings, and poems from him before I came to the funeral, and even those many emails. His letters to me, at least, were machine-gun meditations on life--a vortex of free associations on the nature of Art and Destiny and Man's follies. These letters were shot through with his comic vision of humankind that plumbed the lowest and highest of humor.

His warped sense of humor and willingness to talk from the heart sustained us through a lot of happy times, tragic losses, and life itself.

In 1978, Jerry and I took a most ill­-advised trip from my home in New York City to his home in Seattle. You could travel from anywhere to anywhere in the U.S. for $49 on the Greyhound Bus.

One of the things I remember most about that trip is how much we laughed and babbled and talked through the night as we crossed those twelve desolate, frozen states in those nightmare bus seats, usually trapped in the back of the bus, near the toilet. We finally arrived in Seattle, and staggered off the bus after three and a half showerless and cramped days. We went to our respective family's homes.

Jerry called two hours later to see if I wanted to hang out. We had been six inches apart for 85 hours! I was ready for a serious and long Jerry­break, but he wanted to know when I would be arriving at his place to liberate him! There was more to transact! We had unfinished business. He could never have enough. I was always the first one to go, to hang up, log off, or go to bed. He never ever wanted to say goodbye.

There was never a time when we talked that he didn't hound me to come visit him in Kent, Seattle, Bellingham, Manhattan, Long Island, Mexico, San Francisco, or up in Dutch Harbor, Alaska. Wherever he was was where I should be. It was critical that he knew exactly when we would see each other again. It was always "Jack. . .drive that car down here tomorrow. . .it's only 16 hours and you've got five days off." Or "Doc. . .come down here and quit working so damned hard. . .we'll sit in the hot tub and talk about politics and Rembrandt and old kings."

Jerry would never ever hang up without extracting a solid promise we would get together As Soon As Possible.

In retrospect, I wish I had driven down here a week ago, the last time he insisted I come immediately. He was really applying the heat this time. He knew I had a lot of time off, and I thought about it. He really applied the pressure­­. But I don't think Jerry had any sense of what was to come later that week; I don't think he knew he had days to live. He just wanted that visit to glimmer in the distance, as a possibility, as a carrot to keep him going. Mel had to know you'd be there again, in person.

How can we not all love and cherish someone who loved us as relentlessly as that? For everyone who knew and loved him, there will always be a void that only Jerry can fill.

I'll miss those midnight calls about Flemish painters and Yeats and Shakespeare and the mad popes. It was all so very important to him and he always wanted every detail about my life, and the things I read and wrote and painted, and created at work, and about my family, and about my wife he adored. . .all of that was never far from his mind. Half the time, I couldn't pry a word out of Jerry, but he was there, pumping words out of me like an oil derrick.

Mel measured his life by the people he loved. That was his yardstick. I hope we can all come to practice even a little bit of what he taught us about devotion and intensity and reaching out. Jerry's love was relentless.

I know I speak for Jerry when I tell you he wants us to somehow accept this terrible thing and learn to laugh again. Jerry was never much of a mourner; he was a liver. This much commotion about his passing would be too much. He wants you to ponder not his passing but his glorious transit through this bright blue ball.

It's going to be too long
until we hug Jerry
but until then,
I know that once you're through
with the orientation and settling in,
you'll be teaching those angels
new moves and showing them
just how much room there really is
to dance on the head of a pin. ­­­­

Jack Brummet, 1999

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Katherine Harris staying in the race?

2001



2006
Rumors have abounded that Florida vote-nazi, Congresswoman and Senate candidate Katherine Harris will drop out of her Florida Senate race against Bill Nelson. Another rumor making the rounds is that she will resign from her seat in the House to work full time on beating Bill Nelson.


2006
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Reverend Pat Robertson calls Islam "satanic"

The telenazi evangelist Pat Robertson said yesterday on his program The 700 Club that Islam is not a religion of peace, and that radical Muslims are "satanic."

The rage unleashed by the notorious Mohammed cartoons "just shows the kind of people we're dealing with. These people are crazed fanatics, and I want to say it now: I believe it's motivated by demonic power. It is satanic and it's time we recognize what we're dealing with."

Robertson also said that "the goal of Islam, ladies and gentlemen, whether you like it or not, is world domination."

Does this mean the only way to beat them is with a cross, or a stake through the heart?

Other recent Pat Robertson articles on All This Is That:

Pat Robertson Only Managed To Keep His Foot Out Of His Mouth Two Weeks (It May Be A Record!)

Jesusland in jeopardy? Pat Robertson retracts another statement

More Wisdon From Rev. Pat Robertson

Rev. Pat Robertson Calls For The Assassination of President Chavez

The Reverend Robertson: "I Didn't Say That." "Oh Wait. I Did. But I Didn't Really Mean It."

The Very Reverend Pat Robertson can now be officially classified as treading the border somewhere between Imbecile and Idiot [Moron (51–70 IQ)Imbecile (26–50 IQ) Idiot (0–25 IQ)].
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Alien Lore No. 66 - Painting: UFO crash

Click painting to enlarge

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Republicans tied to the whipping post

A shaken and dispirited Republican party met this weekend at the Southern Republican Leadership Conference, including most of the Presidential candidates pictured here. A few choice quotes:

"Let's just say this: the president's position on all of this is not all that clear." - Senator George Allen of Virgina (and Presidential contender).

"We are spending too much money," said Governor Mitt Romney "Our discretionary spending — taking out Iraq and mandatory spending — grew 49 percent in four years. Our debt has grown. Pork is always dispiriting. But pork being spent at a time of war is particularly dispiriting."

"There's a lot of frustration here — we've had a run of real bad luck," said Tom Rath, a New Hampshire Republican leader. "You've got such longevity in that White House team that they are tired. They need a break. They need a big piece of good luck. I don't know what it is."
Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina said "Executing has been a problem. Implementing has been a problem." Graham criticized the G.O.P. for allowing spending to increase "We're growing the government at a pace that makes Democrats look thrifty."

"We cannot afford big losses this year," said Gov. Haley Barbour of Mississippi,









"It's like we're the party worried about losing," he said. "We need to become the party focused on winning." - Senator Lindsay Graham
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Found Poem: The Richmond Hill Oracle

There's no problem she can't solve
Tells you how to hold onto your job
Calls your friends and enemies by name

Tells you all your problems
Reunites the separated
And even channels the long gone back

Sister Cynthia guarantees
To remove evil influence
In only one visit

Tomorrow may be too late
Come see Sister Cynthia
1864 Liberty Avenue

Richmond Hills Queens
9-9 weekdays and Saturday
Take the A train

To Greenwood Avenue
As fast as you can
All strictly confidential.
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Poem (and painting): The Robot Wars

Unfeeling insect eyes brim with warmth and love
Juxtaposed against the digital lenses

Of robots executing an instruction loop
An injury to one is an injury to all

In the robot hive an isolated attack
Against a single member may shift

The entire hive to act in concert
To solve the dilemma

The hive's seeming random actions
Are suspended

The protocols lead
To reflexive redeployment

The goods news for humans
Is that no robot

Is smarter than the next
If you fool one

You fool
Them all

The bad news for humans
The loss of one member

Is inconsequential
A millisecond diversion

Think of the inexorable march
A platoon of robots a company of robots

Stepping over broken robots
A regiment of robots a division of robots

Executing lines of code
A corps of robots an army of robots

Utterly indifferent to the fate
Of their brothers and sisters in arms

Programmed by rogue homo sapiens
To make it all come down.
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Slobodan Milosevic cheats the hangman

Former Yugoslav leader Slobodan Milosevic, the "butcher of the Balkans" on trial for war crimes after fomenting a decade of bloodshed that killed more than 250,000 people, was found dead today in his prison cell.

64 year old Milosevic's death came a week after the star witness in his trial, former Croatian Serb leader Milan Babic, was also found dead in the same prison. after committing suicide. His testimony in 2002 put the first nails in Slobodan's coffin.

"Justice was late," said Hashim Thaci, the leader of ethnic Albanian insurgents against Milosevic's forces in 1998-1999 in Kosovo's capital, Pristina. "God took him."
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N.S.A. bans photos of Saturn creatures - to avert a run on Depends incontinence products

One of Saturn's moons, Enceladus, appears to have a geyser spewing a large cloud of water vapor. That vapor may be responsible for Saturn's rings, scientists said Thursday.


Image of possible crashed space vehicle. Click image to enlarge.

An article in the journal Science, says that the tiny moon, Enceladus, could have a liquid ocean under its frozen surface that could sustain primitive life. The plume spotted by the Cassini spacecraft is strong evidence that "we may have evidence for liquid water within a body so small and so cold," said Carolyn Porco, Cassini imaging team leader at Space Science Institute in Boulder, Colorado.


This images, shot 12 minutes after the image above, seems to
show the skeleton of a small, large-headed humanoid creature.
Click image to enlarge.

Cassini is the joint U.S.-European spacecraft currently flying by and collecting images of Saturn.

Dr. Porco also said that "if we are right, we have significantly broadened the diversity of solar system environments where we might possibly have conditions suitable for living organisms."


This image appears to show creatures from the moon Enceladus
arriving to gather water during geyser's eruption. Click image
to enlarge.

All This Is That was provided with copies of photographs the research group did not initially release to the public. Two graduate students furnished the photographs under the condition their identities remain anonymous. One of the students said "They absolutely refused to release these three photographs for fear people couldn't handle it." The day after that decision, the National Security Agency "confiscated their hard drives and photographs because 'they have the potential to create a national panic'."

The confiscated images include:

1. A photograph of the surface of Enceladus and what appears to be a crashed space vehicle that looks remarkably similar to common images of "flying saucers."

2. Another image in which the skeleton of a small, but large-headed humanoid appears on the moon's surface.

3. An image of Saturn creatures gathering at what may be their "water hole." The creatures appear to be small humanoids, with wings, and the ability to fly.
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