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Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


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   broad-daylight burglary of the future
Sunday, January 12 2003

Sometimes I wish I could be a speech writer for someone who would actually be heard in the commentary swirling around news issues of the day. That someone wouldn't necessarily have to a politician, mind you; for example, it seems the only people opposed to war who can get any airtime these days are Hollywood celebrities. Based on what I read in a Salon article, those celebrities are appropriately modest about their anti-war credentials while getting smart people to write their sound bites. And in today's world, it is all about sound bites. Whoever can distill the spirit of the evil of the other side is deemed to have won the media debate.
The sound bite that occurred to me today was that George W. Bush's tax relief proposal is "generationally irresponsible," a broad-daylight burglary of the future by the present. Generational irresponsibility is a defining trait of this particular administration, be it oil in the Arctic, money in the economy, or stable global climate. It's not just that George W. Bush and company rob from the poor to give to the rich, they rob from the poor and the future and give to the people who paid for Bush's campaign. The only people who will be rich in the future will be the heirs to the fortunes of Bush campaign contributors, but they're going to need that money to pay for their bottled oxygen and lead radiation suits.

Tonight Gretchen and I were at the Hurley Mountain Inn eating another dinner of cheese pizza and curly fries. There were two different sporting events on separate monitors. One was football, because that's all most Hurley Mountain Inn patrons care about. But there was also a golf game on. "A lot of people like to watch golf," Gretchen observed with disgust. "Well, when I see someone hit a golf ball, I'm always curious as to where it's going to land, so I always watch long enough to see that," I said. "Really?" Gretchen asked, not quite believing me. But I was telling the truth.

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