EDITORIAL:
Full List of Articles in Vol. 1 Issue 6
Buy This Issue
Editorial:
Unsound Bites
Cabbage in Exile:
Staff Pre-empts Backlash by Running Away
National/World News:
No Citizen Left Behind Act Awards White House a Solid "F"
Read
Executive Immunity Does not Extend to Drunken Frat Boys
FOX Newscaster Damned for Providing Perspective
Alaska State News:
DUI Strengthens Ass-
emblyman's Position
Read
Conflicts of Interest:
The People's View
Language/
Advertising:
Bumper Sticker Beat:
Guns Don't Kill People, People Kill People
Read
UN "Treasonlators" Attacked for Undermining US in Simultaneous Translations
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UNSOUND BITES—Cabbage in Exile
Staff Pre-empts Backlash by Running Away
First of all, please forgive the incommunicado state of late. It started with ominous little signs—strange noises on our phone line, our Web site failing to register any updates, even our car radio suddenly stopped receiving. I called an emergency staff meeting to make a threat assessment. Naïve staff members explained away the signs as if it were Munich 1939: Phone taps suddenly were our modem beeping through the line. The appeasers even sought to blame me: Web censorship was my fault for not bothering to send anything to the server to post, and the radio supposedly broke because of my power-drill treatment to get a cassette tape out.
But leaders have fortitude and persuade through clarity and logic, so I made my case: “Remember when Stayr Marsyas challenged the lyre? He and his flute challenged the lyre of Apollo, and flustered the god of the sun (or is it son of god?), who finally had to resort to his divine powers to win… Then, of course, he flayed the satyr alive.” That was the starting gun for pre-emptive maneuvers: We all bolted to the door, bottlenecked, then cracked out of the frame, and screamed down the road. It feels strange to know that over 100,000 soldiers, currently posted on paranoid sitting-duck duty in Iraq, would envy our pre-emptive strategy of getting the hell out, rather than being bound by an organization high on Rum.
Speaking of which, satyrs face the same unknowns that daunted Donald Rumsfeld—not the unknowns they know about, but unknown unknowns. Real dangers, like the weapons of mass destruction that festered all over Iraq like pustules on a leper, masquerade as absence of evidence, when the very fact that there is no evidence of their absence makes them clear and present danger. Our threat came from the Alaska Royal blackshirts, who, our “extremely good intelligence” affirmed, were pounding the pavement in our direction. It was a case for pre-emptive running, and we ran right past the Canadian border guards, who couldn't care less if we were Greek mythological characters, as long as we weren't carrying assault rifles; back out Canada's other end into the American heartland, past the long lines of “Citizens Left Behind” waving their government-choice vouchers (see article in current issue); through towns where Old Gory was draped over every other lamp post as if Martha Stewart's unfortunate bind had reduced the national décor to uninspired tricolor kitsch, festooning the country in an exclusive stars’n’stripes motif; past the electricity posts wrapped in yellow ribbons (though often, perhaps for want of ribbon—or could it be in contravention of the national ban on irony?—the ribbons turned out to be “do not cross” police tape used to cordon off crime scenes); through towns with names like Petroleum, Montana and Empire, Minnesota, and along the 342 miles from Paradise to Hell, both in Michigan.
Some argue that we should pay little heed to names--it's what you do, not what you're called that counts. But what about the ex-head of the New York Stock Exchange, who was forced to resign over his $180 million dollar pay package? A certain Mr. Grasso—Mr. Fat in Italian. And names bear political power; just think where racial equality in this country might be if every generation of blacks didn't have to revise the scholarship, print up new business cards, and develop an entirely new lore to adjust for the latest appellation--from negro to colored to black to African American. With serious anti-war sentiment among blacks, their publicized disenfranchisement at the polls, and pressures for the government to apologize for slavery, we can expect to soon be very busy replacing “African American” with “Post-Enslavement Slowly-Assimilating Darker Hued American.”
Speaking of names and blacks, we find Arnold Schwarzenegger, whose last name is German for “black negro.” Perhaps it is this odd situation (I can't use the word “irony” lest I be charged with unspecified crimes against patriotism) that gave Arnold license to denigrate (is that a word for ethnic cleansing of African Americans?) black body-builders; perhaps his name endeared him to Oprah Winfrey, who hosted a schmooze-fest for him on her show, confusing minority advocates who entertained weird fantasies that multi-millionaire stars would not stick together. In fact, Oprah’s Teutonic embrace jeopardized the outcome of the California recall election, where Mr. Total Recall can't quite recall alpha ape statements and behavior from his body-circus days. Speaking of circus, some have criticized the California election, claiming it will snowball into rolling recall elections across the country (see the Nevada governor, and possibly our own, though his royal status likely makes him an untouchable).
I wish to disrespectfully disagree. Recall elections are a symptom of an active democracy of engaged citizens. More importantly, constant recall elections would be a shot in the arm to TV--they'd boost revenue and give us the privilege of watching political ads, year-round; they'd give us regular debates that would doubtlessly degenerate into a reality-TV show format; and political commentators would be so in demand that they could form teams performing 24/7, saturating media with their inspiring and instructive insights into candidate one-liners and fashion choices. Of course, the economy would quickly rebound from the injection of money that elections provide. Finally, and perhaps most significantly, elected officials would devote all their time to fortifying against attack and would mercifully stop trying to enact public policy.
Rolling recall elections would do for politics what bottomless drinks did for the restaurant industry--a perennially filled political cup would provide all the salutary effects of a sustained intake of caffeine and concentrated fructose syrup (or carcinogenic sugar-substitutes) super-charging our body civic until it puffed like Mr. Universe's ripples.
So, how far should Satyr Marsyas flee to escape Apollo's wrath? Considering the malfunctioning shields and lasers our trigger-happy Olympians are erecting far out in space, we'll probably be running for a while.
Che
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"I Äm Bäck" |
