Reason to Vote #1: The hot chick on the other side of your AIM conversation might be a Republican congressman.

Originally published on Music for America.



The Republican Party continued it’s trend of poor decisions come home to roost this weekend, this time in the form of FL Rep Mark Foley, who chose to step down after being caught having sexually suggestive conversations over AIM with a 16-year-old intern.

Some IM transcripts:

Maf54 (Foley): ok..i better go vote..did you know you would have this effect on me

Teen: lol I guessed

Teen: ya go vote…I don't want to keep you from doing our job

Maf54: can I have a good kiss goodnight

Teen: :-*

Teen: (kiss)

FYI - IM kisses goodnight between congressmen and interns is not customary. While this message seems kinda cute when taken out of context, the reality behind Foley’s predatory seduction of a kid less than half his age is certainly anything but. The scandal has caused intense scrutiny of House Majority Leader Dennis Hastert, who apparently knew about Foley’s disturbing habits as early as 2001, and in spite of this knowledge appointed Foley chairman of the House Caucus on Missing and Exploited Children (HCMEC). Yeah... that’s pretty bad.

Local Florida news affiliates followed Hastert’s lead when they came into possession of copies of the IMs but refused to run the story.

Hastert may be asked to step down. Foley already has. And though these two guys have basically taken themselves out of the equation for us, there’s hundreds more seats and governing losers that deserve the boot.

Because of this, I’d like to point out 4 things:

1. Registration deadlines in many states start as soon as Oct. 7th.
   
2. You can register with MFA by clicking right here.
   
3. You can send registration reminder texts to your friends by clicking here. I’d recommend doing that right now.
   
4. There’s a handful more ways you can get even more involved in the ’06 elections right here.
   

The unrelenting ticker of bad news, starting with Hurricane Katrina and continuing every day since, has shifted popular favor away from the Republicans. Change is in the air, and the narrative in the media is that young voters are going to be the difference makers.

Let's keep that trend going. Your participation in the system is meaningful. Please don’t ever forget that. And don’t forget to block this guy:

Maf54: do you really do it face down

Teen: ya

Maf54: kneeling

Teen: well i dont use my hand...i use the bed itself

Maf54: where do you unload it

Teen: towel

Maf54: really

Maf54: completely naked?

Teen: well ya

Maf54: very nice

Teen: lol

Maf54: cute butt bouncing in the air

FYI - Never mind congress... this one's not even customary in prison.

Sweatin to the Scandals

Originally Published on Music for America, 10/16/05.

Figuring out what's up with this intricate CIA leak scandal plotline is hard work. Burn some calories with Marv's politcal workout.

Warm-ups: Stretch to a short summary of events so far
5 min; 2 sets; reach for your pens and record the facts

We begin with retired Ambassador Joseph C. Wilson, who publishes a stinging NYTimes editorial criticizing the Bush Administration for entering Iraq under the false pretenses of weapons of mass destruction, specifically citing the administration's erroneous mention of Iraq's purchasing yellowcake uranium from Niger.

Eight days after the story is published, the ambassador's wife, CIA Operative Valerie Plame, is outed by reporter Robert Novak. The ambassador accuses the administration of purposefully leaking Plame's identity in an act of revenge. The outing leads to a federal investigation, which reveals that a number of reporters had obtained information concerning Plame from sources Karl Rove and Vice President Dick Cheney's chief of staff, Scooter Libby.

Judith Miller's Aerobic run-around
3 min; 5 sets; chase Judith Miller from the jailhouse to the courthouse

And so, with a case building against prominent White House officials, special investigator Patrick Fitzgerald starts handing out subpoenas to the involved reporters. NYtimes reporter Judith Miller opts for jail time rather than revealing her source to a federal court. Newspapers hail her as a champion of the free press, but it is revealed that her source, Scooter Libby, had given her permission to mention his name a short while after the subpoena, leading many to believe that Miller was hiding out in prison to buy some time and cover her ass.

Court Calisthenics with prosecuter Patrick Fitzgerald
10 min; 6 sets; get your blood flowing by terrorizing White House officials

As the storyline grows more and more complicated, special investigator Patrick Fitzgerald remains quietly prepared. Finally, Miller is released from prison after agreeing to testify in court. Although we don't yet know what goes on in that courtroom, some speculate that Fitzgerald uses a complicated line of questioning to trick Miller into perjuring herself by omitting certain facts from her initial account. Shortly after her first testimony, a phone call from Fitzgerald causes Miller to cough up some suspicious notes, and she is called back into court for further testimony.

One of the aforementioned notes is from Scooter Libby to Miller, and reads as follows:

You went into jail in the summer. It is fall now. You will have stories to cover—Iraqi elections and suicide bombers, biological threats and the Iranian nuclear program. Out West, where you vacation, the aspens will already be turning. They turn in clusters, because their roots connect them. Come back to work—-and life. Until then, you will remain in my thoughts and prayers.

With admiration, Scooter Libby.

Parts of this message are so odd and out of place that some say the note is actually a code or hint to discreetly tell Miller how she should proceed in the hearings. Regardless, the note points towards a more intimate relationship between Miller and Libby than previously known. Other notes from Miller and Libby's conversations date back to before the Novak article and refer to Valerie "Flame" and Wilson's wife. Fitzgerald now has meaningful reason to bring conspiracy charges against Rove and Libby.

Annnd relax...

Are you sweating yet? Good. Now you know how the Bush Administration feels. And you won't feel guilty about getting plastered tonight out at the club. Who likes vodka?

Summer Reading for Neo-Conservatives

Tired of listening to the same old Iraq bullshit? Yeah, I know how you feel. A car bombing here, a kidnapping there, blah, blah, blah- let up already, right?

Dead-damn-diddily wrong. Rather than tirade I will simply point a short, stubby finger at Bill Maher, because this blog is all his fault. I was watching his HBO show Real Time a short while ago with a few friends, and he had neo-conservative visionary Richard Perle on for an interview via satellite. Let me tell you, no amount of makeup could have made this mug beautiful once it was enlarged and projected onto the twelve-foot-wide digital screen Maher has in his studio.

This particular episode must have been filmed sometime shortly after the Iraqi general elections, because rather than challenging the man, Maher dropped his ideologies, dropped to his knees, and then pretty much asked Perle to drop his trousers.

“I’ll admit you guys may have been right in going forward with this Iraq invasion,” Maher said. I was shocked as I listened to Maher continue with his praise of the apparent progress in Iraq towards a free democracy.

Well I got news for you, Bill. There is a human cost to any war, and that is why, no matter what the outcome in Iraq, this aggression will not stand.

So, for those of you who feel like Maher, for those of you beginning to see light in Bush’s foreign policy, for those of you who have your fingers crossed, hoping to see democracy spread through the Middle-East like maple syrup over blueberry pancakes, I have assembled a list of some of the greatest pieces of anti-war literature ever written. Should you choose to read them, these books will help bring you back to earth and remember that the world is no chess game, and that pawns and queens alike can die painfully if you pump them full of shrapnel and mustard gas.

Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. This book takes place within the mind of an armless, legless vet who is confined to a hospital bed (heavy shit). Mind blowing ending.

Born On the Fourth of July by Ron Kovic. A true life memoir of a Vietnam vet's experience with the war. A damn good book, especially considering that Korvic isn't a trained writer.

All quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque. The story of an entrenched battalion of German teens fighting a war of attrition in WWI. Very well written.

Catch-22 by Joseph Keller. Set in the closing months of World War II in an American bomber squadron off Italy, this black comedy is the story of a bombardier named Yossarian, who is frantic and furious because thousands of people he hasn't even met keep trying to kill him. If you only read one of these books, make it this one.

There you have it kids. If you don't agree with Maher, and you're just tired of this war bullshit, these books will help you understand what our homies in the Middle East are going through. Don't forget where your morals at.

The Odd Couple II: Crafting a Loyal Republican

Continued from Part I.

Abel left. He dropped a money order for five hundred dollars on my desk, put his baggage in my spare room, and got on a plane to New York City to whip his Alma Mater’s crew team into shape for an upcoming competition.

The apartment was mine. All mine. Tiny towers of dirty plates migrated to obscure corners. Empty ice cream cartons started popping up like spring flowers. Reckless abandon. I took long baths and failed to properly dry myself afterwards. I secretly outlawed clothes and fixed the volume knob on my radio to eleven. The living room had been transformed into my own exclusive, never-ending rave. Were my landlord to enter the apartment, he would have mistaken me for a vagrant squatter raised by wolves. It was disgusting. Blissfully disgusting.

I stumbled over the book in the midst of dancing a slow funky chicken while blasting the Reverend Al Green. Immediately, I recognized Abel’s round young face centered on the cover from Polaroids he had shown me when he first moved in. My curiosity got the best of me and I began to read, unaware that I was flipping through the case study of his childhood, meticulously catalogued in Times New Roman font.

A bit of reading revealed that Abel’s childhood, his adolescent development, was the opus of a conservative New York psychologist. His life had been an experiment in crafting a loyal citizen with strong morals, and a healthy respect for money. Abel was literally the golden child of the GOP, a republican soldier forged from the riches of a free market economy.

I started to feel bad for him. He never had a chance. He emerged from the womb touting an American flag in one hand and a Nixon poster in the other. While brainwashing is indeed an effective tactic for passing down a political ethos from generation to generation, it is certainly unethical. As the progressive community grows older, these Junior Reagans are the folks who will try and stand in our way.

Abel is certainly a good guy. Reliable, charming and amiable. Unfortunately, he is Vader-esque in his political persuasion. Is it too late to convert him back from his conservative dark-side? I don’t know, but through all my attempts at revealing the virtues of progressive politics, he has been unresponsive.

I wet my parched lips with a cold one, sat back in my filthy liberal bat-cave, and pondered the ultimate question. How do you show a conservative the light?

The Odd Couple

He penetrated my defenses easily. There was an introduction, handshakes, smiling and laughing. There were beers. Coronas and limes, rings of condensation scattered about my apartment. Boisterous toasts, bottles clinking. Foam on the carpet.

Something incredible had happened. My roommate had been trying to finagle his way into the LA porn scene.

Meanwhile, an old college friend was just arriving at my apartment in Berkeley to retrieve his car, a Subaru which I had been taking care of while he was in Fort Lauderdale shooting a documentary. He pulled up with his filming associate in the passenger’s seat of a teal El Camino, and a crumpled mole-hill of Wall Street Journals in the back. I needed a roommate for two months. They needed a place to edit their footage. A perfect fit.

Only later did I discover that I had just let one of the GOP’s Frankenstein poster children into my home.

His name was Abel and he was the subject of my friend’s next documentary. He didn’t wear wing-tips, he wore sandals. His hair was longer than mine. There was no tiny metal American flag pinned to his shirt, no “Save Terry Schiavo” bumper sticker on his car. But despite appearances, this friend of a friend was as conservative as Strom Thurmond.

A conversation about Social Security awoke the sleeping Cheney in him.

“I think it’s ridiculous that the Republican Party expects Americans to invest their own retirement money. It’s unfair to thrust this type of responsibility on uneducated people.” I remarked off the cuff.

Abel voice transformed into a high shrill when he responded.

“You liberals have no faith in the common man!”

I was immediately taken aback. You liberals? My beer slipped from my hand and shattered against the false oak tiles. I excused myself to go get some paper towels, quietly retreated into the bathroom, and then locked the door. Panic sweat stung my eyes. Did I hear correctly? The kid was a Republican! And he’d be living with me for the next three months!

I grabbed a disposable razor that had been discarded in the bathroom trashcan and began to work the blade out of the casing. This situation could only end in violence, and I wanted to be prepared.
But the voice in my head stopped me. Murdering this bastard will get you nowhere, I told myself. Chill out. Chill out.

Tolerance is a virtue.

I put the blade down. The conservatives have already taken over anyways. I’m gonna have to learn how to talk to these guys.

Liberals have no faith in the common man.

What’s the correct response?

Gerald Ford dies at the age of 83... er, 93.

Dana Carvey Calls it 10 years prior on SNL. Remember the man.

Speed dating...