Be Bold

A moving post, Mr. Beerman, but I must take issue with one point: Memorial Day does not signify the first opportunity to wear "all of those white outfits that have been cooped up in your closet all winter long." In reality, it marks the day in which the fashionably-feeble-minded again follow an antiquated pattern, so to speak.

As the informed minority knows, white should be worn year 'round. It's a clean, multifarious color that punctuates nearly any outfit, and flatters pears, apples, and carrots alike. As a base color, white, similar to black, has the uncommon ability to be garish yet tactful, outspoken yet refined. It is the James Bond of the color wheel.

I highly recommend that everyone - from the fashion novice to the seasoned shopper - take white for a test drive. I dare you not to get a compliment. I dare you. Ten bucks says a pair of khaki linen pants coupled with a white linen shirt will catch a few lingering glances on an unseasonably warm day in April. If you are feeling extra-ordinarily zealous, might I suggest a pastel/white combination? If people question your presumably out-of-season style, simply state, "My grandfather owns a winery in Chile, which, coincidentally, is blossoming under the heat of the mid-summer sun. I just stepped off my charter following a two week holiday." Then, looking them squarely in the eye, turn up your nose, and "go'n brush your shoulder off."

Keep it classy, Virginia.

Memorial Day

In this country, Memorial Day signifies the first (unofficial) day of summer - a day of sleeping late, backyard barbeques, softball in the park, and wearing all of those white outfits that have been cooped up in your closet all winter long. However, the day also has a more somber meaning, as we remember the thousands of soldiers that have died in past and present conflicts for this country.

But as we partake in this all-American of days, be it at a ball game or at Arlington, let us not forget the thousands of innocent victims that have suffered and died as a result of American actions abroad. Hundreds of thousands died as a result of LBJ's Rolling Thunder campaign and Nixinger's firebombing of Cambodia. And while official statistics have yet to be collected, it is generally believed that the civilian death toll in Iraq around 15,000. Numbers as high as these are difficult to comprehend, and since we have kept our losses relatively low, Americans are relieved of the burden of coming to terms with them. And by ignoring these numbers we are kept blind of the true consequences of our aggressive foreign policy. While we should salute those American soldiers that have made the ultimate sacrifice, we must also make a point of remembering the devastating effects of their actions on the innocent.

Yes, I Love Maryland

Yes, Mr. Beerman, I did see the subtle irony at first - and then I read the rest of my blog.

Nowhere in The Recipe's hallowed pages do I offer an allegiance to the Commonwealth, let alone anything beyond the Old Line State's impregnable boundaries. The title of my blog is but a title.

I was born, raised, and educated in Maryland, and, to date, I have not discovered a place - despite my many travels - that I would rather call home. I might reside in Virginia, but I will always look to the east for the intangible sense of self-worth that stems solely from one's roots.

Maryland is a magnificent place. I've heard the "grass is always greener on the other side," and, for the first time, I truly believe it - because of my "cross-Potomac" residence. Maryland provides everything I want in this life: mountains, rivers, beaches, friendly folks, cities with history and "charm," and, of course, my family.

You see, Mr. Beerman, one can leave their home town/state, but the lessons and values they acquired there will live with them. Maryland taught me a great deal, and I am forever grateful.

Maryland, My Maryland

I

The despot's heel is on thy shore,

Maryland!

His torch is at thy temple door,

Maryland!

Avenge the patriotic gore

that flecked the streets of Baltimore,

And be the battle queen of yore,

Maryland! My Maryland!

II

Hark to an exiled son's appeal,

Maryland!

My mother State! to thee I kneel,

Maryland!

For life and death, for woe and weal,

Thy peerless chivalry reveal,

And gird they beauteous limbs with steel,

Maryland! My Maryland!

III

Thou wilt not cower in the dust,

Maryland!

Thy beaming sword shall never rust,

Maryland!

Remember Carroll's sacred trust,

Remember Howard's warlike thrust,

And all thy slumberers with the just,

Maryland! My Maryland!

IV

Come! 'tis the red dawn of the day,

Maryland!

Come with thy panoplied array,

Maryland!

With Ringgold's spirit for the fray,

With Watson's blood at Monterey,

With fearless Lowe and dashing May,

Maryland! My Maryland!

V

Come! for thy shield is bright and strong,

Maryland!

Come! for thy dalliance does thee wrong,

Maryland!

Come to thine own anointed throng,

Stalking with Liberty along,

And chaunt thy dauntless slogan song,

Maryland! My Maryland!

VI

Dear Mother! burst the tyrant's chain,

Maryland!

Virginia should not call in vain,

Maryland!

She meets her sisters on the plain

"Sic semper!" 'tis the proud refrain

That baffles minions back again,

Maryland!

Arise in majesty again,

Maryland! My Maryland!

VII

I see the blush upon thy cheek,

Maryland!

For thou wast ever bravely meek,

Maryland!

But lo! there surges forth a shriek,

From hill to hill, from creek to creek

Potomac calls to Chesapeake,

Maryland! My Maryland!

VIII

Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll,

Maryland!

Thou wilt not crook to his control,

Maryland!

Better the fire upon thee roll, Better the blade,

the shot, the bowl,

Than crucifixion of the soul,

Maryland! My Maryland!

IX

I hear the distant thunder-hum,

Maryland!

The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum,

Maryland!

She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb

Huzza! she spurns the Northern scum!

She breathes! she burns! she'll come! she'll come!

Maryland! My Maryland!

Missouri - Part II

Although I didn't know it at the time, traveling to Sedalia was the easy part. The onslaught of twenty-three inquisitive relatives proved far more overbearing than the mouth of the now infamous Super Stewardess. As soon as I opened my Grandmother's front door, I was bombarded with the usual out-of-town relative questions:

1. So how is the job?
2. How was the flight? Did you have any trouble checking in?
3. You look tired - can I get you anything to eat? (By the way, every ailment is typically cured in the Midwest with the application of grease or some derivative thereof)
4. Have you lost weight?
5. Are you seeing anyone?
6. Did you get the birthday card I sent you?
7. Did you like the birthday card I sent you?
8. How are your mother and father? (And yes, they were standing right next to me)
9. Still sittin' in traffic?

In case the last question sounds a little odd to you, I will dutifully explain. You see, every year my father hosts a family fishing trip on the Potomac. We launch from Fletcher's Boat House which is right off Canal Road. In the morning, when we set out for the water, traffic runs one way, so we always listen to WTOP - "traffic and weather together on the eights" - to get a fair warning of adverse driving conditions. This little routine brings my uncles to tears. There is nothing they find more hysterical than listening to traffic reports to go fishing. Granted, they come from a place that does not have rush hour, let alone more than a half-dozen stop lights. But they also come from a place that believes you go fishing to relax - not dodge gridlock. Let's not digress...

So we decide to get ready for the wedding. I, being the textbook Yuppie I long to be, wear a bold suit, shirt and tie combination. My uncle, the father of the groom, the Best Man, asks me, "Why the hell you wearin' a tie?" I respond only with a blank stare as a I await the punch line. It never comes, so I respond generically, "To keep 'em guessing." He returns the blank stare and an awkward moment ensues. Fortunately for both of us, the silence is broken when my other uncle enters the room in a suit. But a suit, I determine after closer inspection, he has owned for nineteen years and has not fit for fourteen of them. He looked like "a fat guy in a little suit." To make it worse, his jacket tears at the seam and my grandmother, in MacGyver-like fashion, repairs it with a stapler. A stapler, for cripes sake!

Long story short, my immediate family was way over-dressed. At the wedding ceremony alone, I spotted a baker's dozen of mullets, one child in a soccer uniform (including muddied cleats), and sunglasses one two different best men. But my cousin, the noble Groom, surpassed them all. The night before, for reasons "beyond" him, my cousin lost his tuxedo at/after the rehearsal dinner. As a replacement, my cousin rented a pin-striped black and white tuxedo that was entirely too large for his short and stocky frame. He stands at 5'6", and this tux would have fit Jordan like a gem. When standing straight up, the jacket sleeves went over his hands. Forgive me for saying this, but it was cute in that little-kid-is-dressed-up sorta way.

And that brings me to a larger discussion of my cousin's condition. In a word, he was wasted. Although I was not present the entire time, inside sources tell me he was drunk from 5:00 pm on Friday (start of the rehearsal dinner) to sometime early Sunday morning. Estimates placed his eventual passing out sometime around 7:00 am. I doubt the bride was in any condition to protest...

It's Just Lunch

For all you young urban achievers out there, It's Just Lunch.

Missouri - Part I

So the trip to Missouri was quite an adventure.

The journey got off to an immediately poor start when our plane made an "unexpected" stop in Pittsburgh due to "shifting weather patterns." Nothing against Pittsburgh, but it's not where I wanted to be. Once we were back in the air, our plane was graced with a new flight attendant who, to put it politely, feared not verbosity. My God, she wouldn't shut up! It was impressive how much she could talk. Every dip, turn, or sign of turbulence was explained with flawless physics and a touch of social psychology. The entire in-flight drink selection was read off. For the last twenty-two minutes of the flight, I learned the flight number, time and gate of every aircraft departing St. Louis airport in the coming three weeks. To make it worse, she spoke like a true flyboy: "Flight 1293, that's 1-2-9-3, will depart out of Gate B - B as in Boy - 3, Gate B3, at 10:27, 1-0-2-7 pm, Midwestern Time. And for all of you from the East Coast, that's one hour behind your time. So, for example, if we arrive at 10:00 , 1-0-0-0 pm, it feeeeeels like 11:00, as in 1-1-0-0 pm." All I could think about was beating her with the seatbelt buckle.

Fortunately, I had my trusty iPod with me, so once we reached "cruising altitude," which, in case you were curious, "is approximately 30,000 feet," I strapped on the headphones and blocked her out - as best I could. I dozed for an hour or so, only to be awoken by Super Stewardess who was "helping" me "secure my seat in an upright fashion prior to landing." At this point, I wanted to murder her. But I did not - civility got the best of me again.

On the ground in St. Louis, things smoothed out - literally. If you've never been to the Midwest, you can jump in the air and instantly increase your visibility by 200 miles. From a three-story building you can see the Rockies and Appalachians with the turn of a neck. Despite the spectacular views, everything looks the same, at least to the untrained "Yankee" eye (why did they call me a Yank?). Corn, pastures, and oak trees is about it. Don't get me wrong, Missouri is beautiful, but only if you like corn, pastures, and oak trees.

The wedding's location required us to travel another 3 hours by car due west of St. Louis. The farther we drove, the less and less I saw. One corn field blended into a thousand zooming past my window. The most interesting thing I caught was a billboard for Missouri's annual Testicle Festival. If you care to ask, I suggest you research it yourself. Fast forward 3 hours, and we arrive in Sedalia...

Show Me State

My cousin is tying the knot tomorrow in Sedalia, Missouri, and I family-bound to attend. It's going to be a weekend of assorted grilled meats, canned beverages, and, of course, the trademark bumpkin game of washers. Being from the "crazy" east coast, I've never won a round before, but I'm hoping that, with sobriety on my side, I can pull out an upset win.

More to come...

Conspiracy Unmasked!

In case you didn't know, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is working for ExxonMobil, who is under the larger neo-conservative bulwark, which is secretly led by Jeb Bush. How do I know this, you ask? It's as clear as day, I would answer - just look at recent headlines.

First, consider ExxonMobil's suspiciously impressive revenues. Second, review Ahmadinejad's threat of the "oil weapon." Thirdly, recall recent Congressional discussions of the "bridge to nowhere." And finally, throw Alaska drilling into the mess. Shake this all up, throw it around in a few Congressional hearings, and before you know it, you have a certified international conspiracy. If the facts don't speak for themselves, we can rummage through this mess a bit more...

If Ahmadinejad launches his oil war, the current neo-conservative administration will, in absolute desperation, tack a drilling addendum onto the existing Alaskan bridge project bill. This, in turn, will open the profit flood gates for ExxonMobil, who is the obvious choice for drilling operations. Once the oil is flowing and operations are therefore irreversible, ExxonMobil - being the socially responsible organization they are - will "convince" Iran to resume oil exports under ExxonMobil's promise to "assist" with advanced extracting and exporting technologies. In the end, Iran drops its quest for enriched uranium, neo-conservatives rebound in the polls, and their posterchild, Jeb Bush, steps on Hillary's neck in 2008.

And there you have it: Ahmadinejad, Jeb, and ExxonMobil are in a steamy lovenest, situated comfortably outside the Oval Office (with a field office in Crawford Texas).

Yea, I know, I told you so.

Two issues

In a private correspondence, Dr Cook asked that I comment on his piece from last week on government spying. I decided to spend a few days mulling it over, hoping that I'd come up with an idea, something new, something insightful. It has now been a week; this has not happened. I will now provide you with my thoughts, as insignificant as they might be. Take from them what you wish.

As I see it, there are two issues at stake. As American citizens, our first concern should be our civil liberties and our right to privacy. While there are many lawyers and commentators that can put forth this arguement more comprehensively and eloquently than I, allow me to say one thing: that in America tapping phones without a) probable cause, and b) court-approval is illegal, and in my opinion, immoral. I have the legal right to talk on the telephone without worrying that someone is listening to or recording my conversation (anybody remember Linda Tripp??).

Furthermore, all American citizens must function within the laws of this country. The President is a citizen of the United States, and his job is not only to create new laws, but, like you and I, also to abide by existing ones. I fundamentally do not believe that the President has extraordinary rights or powers that normal citizens do not have.

However, I agree with Dr Cook that there is also a second issue that should raise a few eyebrows. Last week, news broke that the Bush administration had been compiling huge lists of phone calls made by by American citizens. In addition to being intrusive, this sounds like a colossal (not to mention expensive) task, and given that the overwhelming majority of phone calls made in this country are not a threat to national security, one that is not terribly fruitful. Bush claims that he is our protector, our best option, and this is the best idea he can come up with? Is his war on terror so hopeless that documenting every phone phone call made in the country is the only way that it can be fought?

The Next Big Foreign Policy Issue?

President Vladimir Putin, speaking of the United States during his State of the Nation address, categorically stated: "Their house is their fortress - good for them. But that means that we also must make our house strong and reliable. We must always be ready to counter any attempts to pressure Russia in order to strengthen positions at our expense. The stronger our military is, the less temptation there will be to exert such pressure on us."

Although Putin’s speech focused primarily on domestic policy, his sharp words on the United States, or “Comrade Wolf” as he put it, offered little to interpretation – Russia would no longer concede to American political pressure. To many outside observers, Putin’s speech was immediately discounted as hardliner rhetoric, as hollow as the Soviet Union in 1989. Like many Russian (or Soviet) leaders before him, Putin offered nothing new. The United States is an international bully, and we will stand up to her.

So why should Americans be concerned this time around?

The answer, quite simply, lies in the inherent instability of the (new) Russian democratic system. Putin, according to the Russian constitution - which he has promised not to challenge - cannot serve another term. As such, his revamped foreign policy platform, established squarely in defiance of the United States and the larger Western paradigm, will fall into the hands of his successor. And a successor, mind you, that could a true hardliner – an ideologue, if you will – capable of acting in both word and deed. The United States, therefore, should not be concerned with Putin, but the legacy that he is consciously shaping with each speech.

And Russians are starting to listen. With each passing day, Putin’s promise of military expansion, coupled with the advent of increased government-sponsored domestic programs, suggests the early stages of despotism – and Russians aren’t offering wholesale objections. In fact, based on Putin’s popularity, they are quite satisfied with his administration.

The Russian people - and I emphasize Russia as a nation, not as a state - generally back the pseudo-institutionalized nationalist policies, and, if anything, press for more control. In a country where politically active citizens are used to total government domination, the idea of functional democracy can be unimaginably abstract. For an aging Russian who has suffered through the Cold War the fall of the Soviet Union, the promise of spontaneous national growth backed by military might is far more concrete than diplomacy and other "liberal" notions of development. Stated briefly, immediate power will always entice the majority.

Putin understands this, just as his successor will undoubtedly understand this. The present government will increasingly shift to the right just as the Russian people push it. In the next Russian election, I suspect Putin will be replaced by a man riding a pro-Russian, nationalistic platform to his inaugural address. That president will break functional diplomacy with the United States, thus undermining nearly twenty years of international integration and granting legitimacy to other regimes that stand with their backs to the West.

If this sounds familiar, it should. Putin already promised that "Russia would not return to the Cold War," and as anyone who’s been a teenager knows, absolving oneself of a crime they did not commit is rarely a good sign.

Lylah II

Lylah

My baby girl!

Washington DC 1, New York 0

Old Town Alexandria - The First Annual Mid-Atlantic Top City Classic kicked off Saturday night, ending just as Vegas predicted, with Washington DC cruising to an easy victory. In the final battle, held before a crowd of hundreds, "Democracy's Swamp," led by Dr. Cook, crawled back from a unprovoked, preemptive strike orchestrated by Mr. Beerman of New York. It was truly a fight for the ages.

In a press conference after the match, Dr. Cook confessed, "He [ Mr. Beerman] snuck up behind me - I never saw him coming. Thank goodness my cat-like reflexes never rest." Dr. Cook exhibited unparalleled composure and dedication despite seemingly insurmountable odds. Sports analysts are already dubbing the battle "the birth of a dynasty."

"I guess we know, after all, which city is better," Mr. Beerman offered through tear-swelled eyes. "I learned a valuable lesson out here tonight. It's not about financial clout; when it's all said and done, political power always wins. I should have known it all along. They [Washington DC] are too damn good."

Immediately following the match, Mr. Beerman's trainer promised a rematch: "We will reread this story, but I assure you - I'll put my entire career on the line - a very different ending is in store." Mr. Beerman declined to comment on the rumored battle, but a source "very close" to the fighter, speaking under anonyminity, stated, "No one can come back from a defeat like that. No one. He is a broken man. I doubt he will ever show his face public again."

Dr. Cook sent his sincerest condolences to Mr. Beerman's family on Mother's Day. "I just hope you all are okay," he wrote in a personal correspondence. No reply has yet been received.

A note to a special reader

Dear Mr. Dan Brown,

I would first like to thank you for your continued interest in The Recipe. The Editorial Board wants you to know that we appreciate every one of our readers, and try to do our best to provide stories that are as cosmopolitan and as interesting as they are.

Thanks to outcries from conservative Christians as well as copyright lawyers, your international best-seller The DaVinci Code has dominated headlines lately. The release of the film version, starring America's everyman, has done little to quell the world's fascination with the novel. In an effort to either jump on the bandwagon, get with the crowd, or keep up with the Jones' (please pick your favorite cliche), I recently took three days out of my life to read your book. While I don't claim to be a literary scholar, I would like to offer to you my comments for any upcoming editions or sequels.

To begin, I suggest that you walk down to your nearest community college and enroll in a Basic Composition course. If you tell your publisher that it is a business expense, I am sure they would be more than happy to pay for it. It is in your interest to do this, as I have never read the works of a native speaker that has a poorer command of the written English language than yourself. For a man that is not mentally deficient, you, quite simply, have embarassingly poor word choice. For example, you cannot use the word incredulous to describe every emotion that your characters have in the story. Incredulous means incredulous. It does not mean skeptical, disbelieving, or confused, and just because you find a given word listed as a synonym in a thesaurus, it does not mean that it is a suitable replacement.

A basic composition course will also teach you the basic definition of a sentence. You see, at the very minimum a sentence must include both a subject and a verb, and, if you choose, a complement of some sort. Sentences that do not include a subject doing a specified action are known as incomplete sentences, and are generally frowned upon on every level of writing.

Despite what you may think, writing a particular sentence or clause in either bold or italics does not make it more powerful. In fact, it annoys the reader, leaves him searching for the title of a publication or film, and wondering why the author couldn't have reworked it into a better sentence instead of relying on cosmetic tools.

I also suggest that the next time you write a novel that takes place in Europe, you make a better attempt at getting the details right. While the unit of currency in many European countries is the euro, the plural of 'euro' is 'euros'. You have one euro, you have ten euros. It is not the same as the word 'sheep', where the singular and plural forms are the same. In a French accent 'euros' may sound like 'euro', but it is still spelled 'euros', and to leave off the last s shows that you have never seen the plural form of this word in a sentence that you yourself did not write.

Additionally, it does not make sense that the French would have a prison in Andorra (as you claim), when Andorra is a separate nation. Andorra may be small, but nevertheless independent, and I'm sure they have no desire in taking up the burden of France's prisoner population. And finally, while some Englishmen may take their earl grey tea with lemon, this is but a small fringe of the population. In real life, if an aristocratic Englishman were to ask a lowly Harvard pofessor how the former took his tea, the answer would most assuredly be 'with milk.'

I hope that these comments are constructive, and that you will consider implementing them in the future,

Yours truly,

Mr Beerman
New York Correspondent, The Recipe

It's The Principle

As a matter of principle, it's wrong to conduct indiscriminate "domestic spying." Whether you call it "data harvesting," eavesdropping, or tag it with some other clever euphemism, the fundamental flaw remains: a government should not indiscriminately spy on it's own people.

And yes, I used "indiscriminate" twice on purpose. I understand that for a democratic government to function properly, citizens must forfeit certain civil liberties - sometimes privileges - in the larger interest of the State. I am, admittedly, an adamant defender of rights to privacy, but I know that in particular situations, including our present political climate, a government must take extra-ordinary steps to protect it's constituents. But I am not a terrorist, nor are the 10 people I call on a regular basis. In fact, I am willing to bet the family farm that of the 300+ million Americans (and others living on American soil), 99.99999 percent are not terrorists and have no interest in becoming one.

So what about the remaining .000001 percent? Well, my friend, that's where I get scared. If the best my government has to offer (at least publicly) in its efforts to thwart terrorism is call-tracking, then I fear for our future. Such policies are reactionary, while terrorism is, by definition and application, actionary. At best, we will always be one step behind terrorists if the United States' solution to terrorism is compiling millions of phone records. It simply won't work. And if the United States actually locates that needle in the hectare of hay, then I am truly scared of my government. It's the principle.

Maybe it's time the United States intelligence community collaborates with the American people instead of assuming us at fault. Isn't that, after all, what domestic spying is?

On a somewhat related note, news of NSA's "massive" telephone call database is yet another example of the Bush administration sidestepping necessary government procedures - and decencies - in the name of this seemingly incredible abstraction we inappropriately label "national security." What more will the intelligence community do in the name of "national security?" As William Arkin writes in today's Post, "Telephone records are just the tip of NSA's iceberg." Again, I am scared.

Going Once, Twice, Sold [Out]....

For the privileged few of us who lived through the birth of the modern internet, you probably remember when Craigslist hit the scene. It was a magical time when one could peruse a thousand yard sales without having to walk around, always feeling obligated to buy something cheap just because you looked. If you wanted something, you could probably find it, or at least something sufficiently similar, on Craigslist. Yes, with one website, a world's worth of other people's trash easily became your treasure - it was a massive stockpile of Antique Roadshow leftovers.

Four years later, the system is corrupt. By using today's Craigslist, you are no longer standing defiantly in the face of eBay and stating, "I will not succumb to your market pressures of supply and demand." No sir - you are simply saying, in a passive aggressive manner, "I cannot afford your fee, so I will take my business elsewhere." Craigslist, once host to the "get this out of my house" listing, has slowly evolved into a "$30.00 OBO," which really means, "I am a money-grubbing scoundrel, and I this is a for-profit venture."

Here is a personal example. Yesterday, while shopping for an armoire, I responded to three listings. In all three cases, the seller's response was something to the effect of, "Thanks for the interest. I have received a higher offer, but feel free to counter it." In fact, one person told me what the "revised" asking price was. I hope he did not sleep well last night.

It's only a guess, but I bet the creators of Craigslist shudder at the thought of their perverted dream. In an attempt to create a buyer's utopia, they unleashed a capitalist monster. May God have mercy on our souls.

Filler

Mr. Beerman's earlier request prompted, not one, but two Bush-bashing sessions, so I think it's time to leave the man from Crawford alone. Instead, I say we kill some time and talk about something that has been itching my brain for too long...

...what does saliva taste like?

I know this sounds gross, but take a moment to think about it. Everything tastes like something, except, of course, saliva - or at least mine. If you drink milk, your saliva tastes like milk. If you drink coffee, your saliva tastes like coffee. But if you drink nothing, your saliva, well, tastes like nothing. Why is this? Did some grand evolutionary process decide that saliva should be tasteless? I hope not, for I would surely not wish a life of chopped liver on our good friend, Frozen Fritz.

President's Management Agenda

According to the President's Management Agenda, published by George W. Bush in 2002, "Government likes to begin things - to declare grand new programs and causes. But good beginnings are not the measure of success. What matters in the end is completion. Performance. Results. Not just making promises, but making good on promises. In my Administration, that will be the standard from the farthest regional office of government to the highest office in the land." President Bush's Management Agenda goes on to argue that "Government should be results-oriented - guided not by process but guided by performance. There comes a time when every program must be judged either a success or a failure. Where we find success, we should repeat it, share it, and make it the standard. And where we find failure, we must call it by its name. Government action that fails in its purpose must be reformed or ended."

Based on these statements, all of which are direct quotes from Bush, isn't it high time the United States develops a "coherent and coordinated plan"?

A Lamer Duck Follows Closely Behind

Mr. Beerman asked that I comment on Porter's Goss' resignation as CIA Chief and "the shake-up of the Bush administration." I am happy to oblige, but I cannot promise anything substantive, as I am, at best, an angry yuppie shaking his fist from the left. If you are looking for an insightful, informed discussion, then I suggest you stop reading now. All you are going to find from here on out is baseless rambling (but isn't that what I originally promised?).

First off, I am not at all surprised by Porter's resignation, or more appropriately, his cordial acceptance of President Bush's pink slip. Although I cannot say for certain, I doubt anyone close to Porter was caught off guard by his departure, which, surprisingly, was labeled "breaking news" by CNBC and Fox News. The high profile political resignation has been a damaging tool for this administration and many before it - some quit in protest, others simply fail to meet expectations.

To be sure, I don't see anything extraordinary about Goss' resignation. As you noted, Mr. Beerman, there have been a number of recent "hirings and firings by W," all of which have done nothing aside from clog headlines and reroute eyes for a couple of days. These job transfers are, to condense my opinion, political stunts aimed at appeasing short-sighted politicians, voters, and the media. I would label them incongruous exercises in inaction - sensational politicking that portrays a sense of accomplishment, when nothing actually happened. The intelligence community will not experience an immediate revitalization and rebirth simply because Goss stepped aside. A department-wide change, similar to the "transformation" the CIA was supposed to undergo at Goss' appointment, is a cultural event that takes years to develop and mature. Systemic change rarely happens over night in a democracy.

As for the cause of Porter's firing, I would guess it's a product of both internal strife and public discontent. As I suggested earlier, people have already begun applauding Bush for firing Porter, thus settling public discontent (if only for a short while). In terms of internal strife, the Bush administration has demonstrated - on numerous occasions - what happens to dissenting opinions in the White House. For better or worse, Bush's team has done well to present a strong, united facade despite constant criticism and painful accusations. Porter rarely spoke publicly, and that's probably because he was told not to.

Goss was a political paperweight, just as many high-profile appointed politicians are. His hiring and firing, like those before him, will mean next to nothing for this country. As an isolated event, Goss' departure was about as meaningful as the child who finds the most eggs at the annual White House Easter egg hunt. The Bush administration's intelligence policies, both foreign and domestic, will be no different next week. They are too strongly dictated by a limited group of powerful individuals - we all know the cast - who issue decisions with only a narrow, monolithic agenda in mind. I would argue, therefore, that the "real problems lie in the hands of people whose jobs are secure."

Back to the Futurama!

THIS JUST IN:

At 9:00 am this morning, CNN's online entertainment department reported that "Fox was looking to resurrect the animated series 'Futurama,' from 'The Simpsons' creator Matt Groening, on its Sunday lineup the same way that 'Family Guy' was brought back last year. The network has an option for new episodes, which currently are being produced for Cartoon Network's Adult Swim late-night block." I don't know about the rest of you, but I once again have Sunday night plans.

Three cheers for Fry!

a lame duck tries to fly

Porter Goss's resignation as CIA chief is the latest example of the shake-up of the Bush administration. I'm sure our readership would appreciate it if Dr Cook could offer his opinion on the the recent hirings and firings by W. Specifically, what exactly is prompting this? Public discontent with the state of affairs, or is it perhaps an internal mutiny? However, the real question that I'd like to ask is, do you think that the current shake-up will make the slightest difference in regards to the actions and policies of the Bush administration? Or do the real problems lie in the hands of people whose jobs are secure (namely, Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld and Rice)?

A Past Reborn

It happened, folks, Bon Jovi snuck back in.

Bon Jovi, famed '80s rockstar, recently reached number 1 on the charts with his new single, Who Says You Can't Go Home. Tip of the hat to you, Mr. Jovi. It would seem that our big-haired, ballading rocker has, to quote Alan Jackson, "gone country." Abandoning his hard-hitting roots, Bon Jovi recently re-invented himself to cater to an aging fan base. In his most recent album, Have a Nice Day, Bon Jovi makes no attempt to hide his less-than-seamless transition to a newer brand of country, labeled "escapism" by Jimmy Buffet, and popularized by singers including Kenny Chesney, Keith Urban, and Alan Jackson.

Not too many other artists survived Hands Across America, Kurt Cobain, and the synthesizer backlash. But now, 15 years later, Bon Jovi is creeping back in with the rest of the proverbial '80s gang: Gary Coleman, Ozzy Osbourne, George Bush (v1.0) Darth Vader, and Alf. And, to be totally honest, I can't blame him. In fact, I would go so far as to shake Bon Jovi's hand. Everyone else who made an '00s come back did so with a hint of sensationalism. Madonna kissed Britney Spears (coat-tails, anyone?), Flava Flav stopped smokin', and Molly Ringwald spoofed herself. Bon Jovi, on the other hand, jumped back into the swing of things with conscious forethought and talent. He kept an ear to the track and determined the perfect time to trim - not cut - his big hair, slide into the tight jeans, and start jamming.

But my specific admiration of Bon Jovi is not a general acceptance of everything '80s. I don't think pop culture can survive another decade of that nonsense. What we can stand, however, is a controlled blending of then and now. Like the upcoming Indiana Jones film, we should keep ourselves honest by borrowing from the past without attempting to hide our wrinkles. Ultimately, we have to accept the '80s rebirth, all the while remembering, like Bon Jovi, to trim the hair and account for two decades of unprecedented progress.

Tied up at the office

Two things have been missing from The Recipe lately. Columns regarding men's fashion, and an entry from your New York correspondent. With this post, I hope to kill two birds with one stone.

As I do every weekday, I am currently wearing a shirt, slacks and necktie (my employer forbids dress-down days of any sort). Every morning as I get dressed, I question exactly why I am forced to wear this corporate uniform every day. I do nothing more than sit in a quiet office typing staring into a computer screen; there is absolutely no need for me to look presentable. I don't meet with clients, like some of you might. No one from the outside even comes into my office, for which I might have to 'dress to impress.' I never meet with any of my superiors either. In fact, it has been several days since my boss has even had a reason to speak with me.

This has led me to conclude that the only reason why I sit here Monday-Friday in a shirt and tie is so I can feel vastly more important than I actually am. By attempting to instill a sense of professionalism and importance in me, my employer hopes that I will be more productive. The actual result, however, is that you have a bunch of guys making wisecracks and screwing around in dress clothes rather than in business casual or street attire.

1000 Hits

Well, folks, we are approaching 1,000 hits here at Commonwealth Recipes. I feel as if I should celebrate this momentous occasion by enjoying a couple stogies and a gentleman's serving of single malt. But I shall refrain, and instead discuss the passing of my 22nd year.

This past weekend, much to my surprise, I turned 23. My birthday really snuck up on me. Dare I say I doubted its sneakiness? Not ten minutes ago, it would seem, I was raging drunk at the bar, surrounded by my fellow Frat Lords, drawing hash marks on my arm as I crawled towards 21 drinks. This time around - only two years later, mind you - I drank boxed wine on the couch and fell asleep before my birthday was technically over. I'm not suggesting I didn't have fun. In fact, I had a great time, and I actually remembered everything this time around. What I am suggesting, however, is that time seems to be speeding up at an uncontrollable rate.

When I was younger, let's say before high school, birthdays were a huge deal. I would spend months planning the perfect party. The right mix of guests, the best food, and, of course, what presents I wanted to receive. I loved getting older. But now, at 23 years, 2 days, 10 hours, and 51 minutes, I would gladly forfeit any and all forthcoming presents for another birthday that seemed to approach at a tortuously slow rate. I want to get off the aging train right here, thank you.

No, I take that back. Aging is inevitable, and it would be a waste of my time to fear (or fight) the inevitable. Too many years have already been lost to that cause. So, I guess, I want to slow the passage of time, right? But is that not the same? If we suppose that time does, in fact, fly when you are having fun, wouldn't it mean that I have to live a substandard existence in order to slow time? And I don't want to do that. Until I achieve a higher mental state where time stands still, I shall assume that the rapid passage of time is good news because it means I am livin' it up every minute.

Oh, and yeah, I shall also assume that doctors cure death before I am scheduled to die. Modern science shall break the shackles of the human condition.