Why Zarqawi’s death matters

The New Neo Posted on by

Despite the chorus of “yes, buts…” on the left that, although Zarqawi was indeed a nasty man who deserved to die, his death will only serve as the inspiration for more terror and was therefore not such a great event, there is evidence cropping up that the positive repercussions of his demise (and the manner of it) could go far beyond the simple fact that he is no longer around to personally perpetrate graphic evil.

Claudia Rossett has laid out the possible/probable international ramifications of his death: the importance of a command leader being taken out of commission, the significance of the fact that it was cooperating Iraqis who were part of the reason he got caught, and the intelligence information that was gained and has resulted already in a plethora of arrests.

The whole event can have a cascading effect, both emotional and practical. Zarqawi traded on his image as not only an excessively brutal man but as one who cannily eluded capture, operating under the noses of the US and Iraqis. His myth of invincibility and power is shattered. But perhaps even more important is the fact that information gathered as a result of locating his whereabouts has led to what is perhaps the largest cleanup operation of terrorists ever:

In Iraq alone, some 16 or 17 terror cells were attacked at the same time as Zarqawi was killed. And the wave of arrests ”” just yesterday the Swiss reported they had broken up a cell planning to attack an El Al passenger plane ”” is like nothing I have seen before, bespeaking an encouraging degree of international cooperation. It goes hand in hand with the devastating campaign in Iraq against the terrorist leadership. Zarqawi is just the latest to fall; most of his top associates had been eliminated over the course of the past several months.

Even the Washington Post seems to agree that Zarqawi’s death may indeed have dealt a major tactical as well as propaganda blow to Al Qaeda and to terror around the world:

It is unclear which of 39-year-old Zarqawi’s lieutenants, or deputy emirs, will attempt to fill his role. But whoever succeeds him will be hard-pressed to achieve the same level of notoriety or to unite the foreign fighters in Iraq under a single command, analysts said.

Some European and Arab intelligence officials said they had seen signs before Zarqawi’s death that the number of foreign fighters going to Iraq was already waning. For recruitment efforts, the importance of Zarqawi’s death “cannot be overestimated,” Germany’s foreign intelligence chief, Ernst Uhrlau, told the Berlin newspaper Der Tagesspiegel.

Of course, the killings in Iraq continue, as expected. But although they are still full of sound and fury and personal tragedy to these they directly effect, they may indeed signify less than they used to. New recruits to the jihadi cause seem to have few of the skills of the old ones, according to this AP report.

And this is no accident. The days of the training camps in Afghanistan are gone, many of that generation wiped out. It may be getting a great deal more difficult to recruit “quality” people, not to mention keeping them. High turnover is always a serious personnel problem.

Yes, we don’t know what the future will bring. But the signs right now are good, and we should be heartened by the fruits of the incredible effort mounted by our military, worldwide intelligence, and the Iraqi people.

[ADDENDUM: Zarqawi’s body may not be all that welcome in his country of origin, Jordan, since he enraged a few people there a while back.]

Plus é§a change, plus c’est la méªme chose

The New Neo Posted on by

I was rummaging around the house where I’m staying, looking for something to read, when I encountered an old favorite from my childhood, choreographer Agnes De Mille’s memoir And Promenade Home.

While skimming through it, I came across a passage in which De Mille, a newlywed whose husband has gone off to fight World War II (he was to remain abroad for the two remaining years of the war but returned unharmed), describes some of the conversations she endured at social events during her long wait:

For dark, personal reasons, many people could not resist this chance at cruelty. There were the intellectuals who demanded aggressively if we believed in war and asked across our dinner tables did we relish the idea of being the widows of dead heroes? There were men of peace who fulminated against destruction and argued that no idea was worth fighting for that leveled Casino or Dresden….There were the newscasters who, after the fourth Martini, swore with something akin to professional pride that the war would last another eight years….

And this was World War II, the Good War. Interesting, no?

Targeted assassinations and Zarqawi: he’s really most sincerely dead

The New Neo Posted on by

As Alan Dershowitz quite rightly points out (via Solomonia), the manner of Zarqawi’s death is really no different from what is known as “targeted assassinations,” often condemned when performed by Israel, and yet in the case of Zarqawi roundly applauded throughout the Western world.

Why the distinction? The Dershowitz piece is short and doesn’t really attempt an analysis, except to say that the difference between the two acts appears to be that Israel can do no right in the eyes of many in the international community.

But, although I pretty much agree with Dershowitz that an enormous double standard is always applied to Israel, certainly the international community is not ordinarily in the habit of cutting the US much slack, either.

So I believe something additional is involved here, and that is the fact that Zarqawi was a terrorist whom even extreme leftists and Hamas apologists have had trouble wrapping their minds around. He resembled nothing more than the bogeyman, a figure of horrific brutality more appropriate to the nightmares of childhood.

And yet here he was, seeming to revel in his status as the biggest, baddest, meanest, most-sadistic sonofabitch in the world. With video to prove it. Only the furthest gone on the left (such as, unfortunately, Nicholas Berg’s father; see here for a transcript and discussion of Berg’s post-Zarqawi’s death interview) can find empathy for Zarqawi himself.

The terrorist mastermind targets of Israel’s bombs are for the most part faceless to most of us. Their propaganda machines are much slicker than Zarqawi’s, and their profiles are much lower. Zarqawi made the error of getting most of the world to hate him with great passion. It’s what he wanted, of course; but the consequence is that even most of those who condemn the same acts when committed by Israel can’t find it in their hearts to condemn this one.

The form the condemnation takes is rather, a bunch of “yes, buts…”, especially the idea that this killing won’t help–that, like the proliferating broomsticks in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” of Disney’s “Fantasia” (another archtypical child’s nightmare), striking down a terrorist only causes a thousand more to spring up in his place.

This is a statement of faith rather than a proven fact, but no matter; it makes good copy. My guess is that not too many have been inspired by the Z-man or the manner of his death, but I certainly cannot prove it.

But in news that has been somewhat overshadowed by Zarqawi’s death, it is appears that only hours after the announcement a stalemate was broken and three appointees of the new Iraqi government were approved by its legislature. Austin Bay is paying attention, however, and he has an excellent roundup of the positive strategic implications of Zarqawi’s death and of developments in the new government of that beleaguered country. These do not seem insignificant; please take a look.

So, once again: Ding-dong. He’s really most sincerely dead.

[Mayor]: As Mayor of the Munchkin City,
In the County of the Land of Oz,
I welcome you most regally.

[Barrister]: But we’ve got to verify it legally, to see

[Mayor]: To see?

[Barrister]: If she

[Mayor]: If she?

[Barrister]: Is morally, ethic’lly

[Father No.1]: Spiritually, physically

[Father No. 2]: Positively, absolutely

[Munchkins]: Undeniably and reliably Dead

[Coroner]: As Coroner I must aver,
I thoroughly examined her.
And she’s not only merely dead,
she’s really most sincerely dead.

[Mayor]: Then this is a day of Independence
For all the Munchkins and their descendants…

Seattle: observations from the green city

The New Neo Posted on by

I’ve barely scratched the surface of the Seattle experience, but I already have the following observations:

Seattle is indeed a very green city. It’s not only green in the literal sense, because of all the rain, but in the political sense as well.

The area where I’m staying, Mercer Island (with some wonderful and exceptionally hospitable relatives), approaches rain forest dimensions–if not by strict climactic definitions, then at least visually. Swooping vistas of mossy ferny dense vegetation, lush and massed, interspersed with towering evergreens. Canyons and curves and tasteful woodsy-appropriate homes and tiny little lanes that strain the driving skills of residents who wield their SUVs down them.

Yesterday I had occasion to drive on one of the local freeways, and since there was more than one human in the car we were able to use the diamond lane. It was rush hour, so one would think that in eco-conscious Seattle there would be many other cars there as well, reflections of conscientious carpooling.

But no. As far as the eye could see, we had the diamond lane nearly to ourselves. Glancing to my right, I could see only a solitary driver in car after car–proving, not that residents of Seattle are evil; but that, like most people, they like independence in their wheels.

To continue the green theme, last night I ate dinner at a restaurant called Cedars, which I now hereby plug. Crowded, warm, noisy but not so noisy you couldn’t carry on a conversation, and an interestingly eclectic menu of both Indian and Mideastern. Why so crowded? The winning combination: good food, plenty of it, and very reasonably priced.

Zarqawi’s death

The New Neo Posted on by

I woke up today to the news of Zarqawi’s death.

This is the best day of its kind since the announcement of Saddam’s capture. And it does not seem this time as though reports of Zarqawi’s death have been greatly exaggerated; this appears to be the real deal at last.

There’s an especially interesting roundup of views at Pajamas Media. Note particularly the ones from Iraqi bloggers. And please contrast their attitude with Dr. Sanity’s compendium of views on the left, fine exemplars of the art of the “yes, but…”.

The NY Times reports an interesting incident of Tony Snow’s prescience:

As news that United States forces had killed the most wanted terrorist in Iraq began to spread through the American security apparatus late Wednesday afternoon, President Bush and his top advisers were meeting in the White House with congressional leaders, who were nervous about continued trouble in Iraq.

“What you really need to do,” Representative Ray LaHood of Illinois told the president, “is go get Zarqawi,” according to an account by the White House press secretary, Tony Snow, who was at the meeting.

“I said ‘Yeah, we’ll just order that up right now,’ ” Mr. Snow recalled in an interview this morning.

Minutes after that exchange, at 3:45 p.m., the national security adviser, Stephen J. Hadley, left the room in response to a Blackberry message to call the American ambassador to Iraq in Baghdad, Zalmay Khalilzad.

“We think we have Zarqawi,” Mr. Khalilzad told him.

Was Zarqawi the source of all evil in Iraq? No. Will his death make the insurgency go away? Not a chance. But it’s another victory on the long slow and arduous road to some sort of functioning and democratic government in Iraq, and a message to others of his ilk as to what fate awaits them. And, if the Iraqi bloggers are any indication, a cause for ordinary Iraqis to rejoice.

Celebration at the death of an evildoer–and if there was a clearer example of an evildoer than Zarqawi on the face of this earth I can’t quite think of one at the moment–is a tricky phenomenon. Zarqawi was human, of that I am certain. As a human being, he deserves some sort of respect. But a long time ago he forfeited the right to be mourned in the usual way, and it is appropriate to be glad of the fact that he is no longer among us to inspire whomever it might be who found his particular brand of sociopathic thuggery impressive and charismatic.

For a sociopathic thug he almost undoubtedly was, with roots in garden-variety criminality, writ large over time through political opportunity and positioning so that he could work his evil on a vaster scale than most ordinary psychopaths. If we or anyone else shed a tear for Zarqawi, it should be for the fact that a human being can become so corrupted and lost, so brutal and bereft of humanity, that his death would cause such universal and justifiable rejoicing.

Who turned him in? He certainly didn’t lack enemies, including those in Jordan angered by his killing his own, like a rabid dog. The twenty-five million dollar reward probably sweetened the pot.

But celebration is clearly in order today, so sing it high, sing it low.

The tie that bonds, the bond that ties

The New Neo Posted on by

I found them deep in the bottom of the safe deposit box, put there so long ago they’d been virtually forgotten. Three US Savings Bonds, gifts to me on the occasion of my birth.

The denominations didn’t seem huge: 100, 50, and 25 dollars. But, readjusted for the rate of inflation, the gifts were very generous indeed at the time they were given. You’ll have to guess the date of issue yourself; as you can see, a little judicious editing has been performed by a friend less technically challenged than I on the above reproduction of one of the bonds.

I’m not sure who the donors were, but I know they had to be family friends or relatives. The stamp on the bond in the photo says “The First National Back of Millburn,” so that’s a pretty good clue; my mother had first cousins who lived there.

When I took the bonds out of the box to study them, they seemed old–older than they ought to, far far older than I. Something like the Confederate money I remember my grandmother showing me in my youth, or the far more interesting mourning jewelry her mother had worn–chains made from the hair of the deceased, on which lockets containing the loved ones’ photos were hung.

These US Savings Bonds were evidence that, as a newborn, I was surrounded by a group of people who didn’t even know me yet but who wished me well. And not only did they wish me well, but they were putting their hard-earned money where their mouths were, and planned that some day these bonds would pay me back with interest.

And now that day had come, belatedly. No doubt the givers thought the bonds would have been redeemed quite some time ago, perhaps even to help pay for a college education, when that kind of money could actually get you something more than a textbook or two. But somehow, instead, the bonds had been laid aside long ago and forgotten.

The bonds made me think of the banks of my youth, so different from today’s user-friendly ones. Those 50s banks were meant to be intimidating; they were manned (and “manned” was not just a figure of speech; the employees were all males) only until two o’clock in the afternoon or so, the classic “banker’s hours.” They featured a lot of icy marble, and the tellers hid behind grates, with only a bit of their faces showing. The effect was enhanced by the fact that I was too small to really see up that high; I just presented my savings account book and they gave it the mysterious and official stamp.

Now, of course, the bank I visit to redeem the bonds is a wide-open space, full of light and artwork. The tellers are all women–although actually, to me, they look like young girls–with nary a grate in sight.

I present my bonds, and the teller studies them, her eyes widening, her mouth forming a little “O” and giving out a slight puff of air. She actually calls the others over to look, and soon the lot gather around, murmuring “We’ve never seen one of these before; look how OLD!!” and gaze up at me in wonder.

I’m a bit hurt. “Hold on about old, that’s me you’re talking about. They were given to me the day I was born,” I say, and they smile and shake their heads. Others are called in, and a consultation ensues. What to do? How to look this up?

A higher-up comes out and determines that, with interest, the bonds are worth $921.92, which respresents a nice windfall, and an unexpected one as well. I can feel those long-ago givers smiling on me, joyful at the birth of that baby girl so long ago. What were their hopes and dreams for her, their fears and secret sorrows? I don’t even really know who they were; just that they wished me well–and that, so many years later, I receive their gifts once again.

Oh, Canada!–the arrests

The New Neo Posted on by

Varifrank has a good roundup and summary of news about the Canadian explosives arrests.

The situation was potentially explosive in more ways than one. As Varifrank points out, not only was the alleged network international in scope, not only did it involve Canadian nationals and even minors, but the target was–Canada.

It’s hard to imagine anything so logical as a reason for targeting Canada. But I supose the country represented what might be called a target of opportunity. Like Everest, it’s there; although unlike Everest, it may have been tempting because it was thought to be relatively easy to operate in. It’s also Western, of course, and America-like.

It’s encouraging that intelligence and law enforcement worked together on an international scale to thwart this particular effort. The Canadian authorities have certainly not been lulled into a false sense of security because of their country’s politics. Of that I–and many millions af Canadians–am glad.

The fact that we are all potential targets is not fearmongering, as many will no doubt say. It’s a simple fact. And saying it doesn’t mean the speaker is especially afraid–although it’s not a pleasant prospect, to be sure.

But it’s reality. And if that reality wasn’t already as clear as the billiant blue skies of a certain Tuesday in September of 2001, then it certainly should be that clear by now.

Losing your turns

The New Neo Posted on by

What’s a pirouette? Here’s the Wikipedia defintion—and, as a former dancer, I can attest to its correctness:

One of the most famous ballet movements; this is where the dancer spins around on demi-pointe or pointe on one leg. The other leg can be in various different positions; the standard one being retiré. Others include the leg in attitude, and grand battement level, second position. They can also finish in arabesque or attitude positions. A pirouette can be en dehors – turning outwards, starting with both legs in plie, or en dedans – turning inwards.

The definition may seem Greek to you (actually, of course, French) but to me the terms are as familiar as English. The terminology of ballet, repeated to me from the age of four till my late thirties, when I quit dancing, gets drummed into the brain until it becomes reflexive.

The diagram, for instance, shows an en dehors turn, since the dancer is spinning in the opposite direction from the leg supporting her weight, and her other leg is held in the postion known as passe.

But I’m not here to teach you dance–fortunately for both of us, since that would be quite a trick, online. I want to talk about the psychological phenomenon every dancer knows about, which is known as “losing your turns.”

All of dance is hard for the dancer, although it’s incredibly satisfying and rewarding, a completely absorbing meshing of the physical, musical, artistic, and spiritual. But turns are notoriously hard for most people.

Certain people are different, however; they’re that rare phenomenon known as “natural turners.” Some strange trick of brain and inner ear, some unusual sense of centered balance, allows them to turn easily almost from the moment the step is first introduced to them. Natural turners almost never lose their turns; but the rest of us not only have to struggle to learn to turn, but are acutely aware that the knack can be lost.

Every person has a preferred side to which turning is easier, almost always the right. There have been only a few famous dancers who are/were “left-turners” (the extraordinary Fernando Bujones and the elegant Anthony Dowell come to mind), so most ballet choreography features turns to the right. The favored side for turning has no relation to handedness, by the way; it’s an entirely separate issue (I’m left-handed and a right turner, for example).

So the way the brain is structured is definitely part of what makes turns easy or hard. Turns are also especially challenging because, more than any other part of ballet, they require strength and relaxation in almost equal measure. Tension is a great turn-killer, especially tension of the head and neck, which have to work together to move fluidly in the manner known as “spotting” in order to avoid getting too dizzy (spotting involves keeping the eyes on a single “spot” until the last moment of the turn, and then whipping the head around quickly to come back and focus on that object again).

The best comparison I can think of is to baseball: the batter’s swing and the pitcher’s curve ball. Both are notorious for disappearing for unknown reasons, sometimes for a long time (sometimes ending a career, actually), and then mysteriously reappearing. When a batter loses his swing, he works with a coach, trying to locate the problem, fine-tuning things till it returns.

Likewise with dancers. You can see them practicing their turns after class, over and over and over, looking in the ever-present mirror to see if they can detect that elusive flaw that’s spoiling their turns. Because when turns go, it’s not a pretty sight. Balance is a thing that’s either on or off; a person who could once do four flawless revolutions from a single push-off preparation will now have trouble getting around twice—perhaps even hopping to complete the revolutions or, (for a female) falling off pointe, which can involve an ignominious and dangerous pratfall.

Virtually all dancers know that losing one’s turns is a possibility every time they take the preparation for a turn (usually a momentary pause in fourth or fifth position with the knee bend known as a demi-plie, eyes fixed on something ahead for the “spotting,” arms poised to whip and then close in for a bit of added impetus [see diagram]) . It’s a leap—well, not exactly a leap—of faith, a push into the unknown. Will the turn hold? The dancer has to have the confidence that it will, and relax into it, bringing together all his/her technique and knowledge without really thinking about it. It’s part of the dancer’s body memory, and trust has to enter into it.

Strangely enough, writing a blog has some aspects of this process, too. No, it doesn’t have that element of physical release–au contraire, it’s physically quite static. But every day, or even several times a day, the blogger faces that blank screen and has to take a little preparation and push off, assuming the turn (of phrase) will come. It’s different from other types of writing, because there’s so little time to prepare, and even less time to polish. One must produce at a fairly fast clip, digesting the news and what’s being said on other blogs (sometimes swallowing whole without chewing enough) and then saying one’s piece.

I’m not complaining; it’s a self-imposed labor of love. Sometimes I face that blank screen with eager anticipation—I’ve got an idea, the words flow, and the thing practically writes itself. A quadruple turn, as it were. Other times I cast about for something to say, or I have an idea but my thoughts are hard to sort out, or I realize that to do justice to the topic I’d really have to write a small book. Sometimes the product is only so-so; sometimes I’m just hopping around and fall off pointe. But the next day I usually return to take my place again, make my preparation, and try to relax into the turn with confidence. And, if it doesn’t turn out quite right, I try again the next day.

Writing about Haditha, thinking about Haditha

The New Neo Posted on by

I haven’t written about Haditha yet.

I know that we don’t yet know what happened there, or why. So all we can do is speculate, and to me the speculation seems rather obvious: if innocent civilians were murdered by the Marines there, and if the situation did not involve well-motivated and understandable mistaken identity of some sort, then it was a war crime and should (and will) be deplored by all right-thinking (and I mean that in the moral, not the political, sense) people, including myself. And it should, and will, be prosecuted as such, to the fullest extent of the law.

Those things are so obvious to me that they almost go without saying. But I’m saying them anyway, just to be clear.

But this is a post not so much about Haditha itself but about the current speculation about Haditha, and what that might mean. I’ve noticed that Haditha follows certain patterns that seem familiar. I wrote about those patterns back in late April, in this post about My Lai and the press:

The massacre at My Lai was a turning point in America’s perception of itself. It represented a loss of innocence about the military, who until then had been thought incapable of the kind of atrocity that occurred there. It also made Americans more cynical towards the military command and its ability to investigate its own wrongdoings. And lastly, the press was seen in the role of heroes bent on publicizing the truth.

These three elements are still in play today. Whether or not Haditha ends up proving to be in the mold of My Lai, My Lai remains the template, the frame for all subsequent events that might fall into the category of possible American war crimes.

My Lai itself was a war crime, and there’s no doubt the initial internal military field investigation was a coverup:

The facts of My Lai were sensational, and they make shocking reading today, even in our far more jaded age. I’ve written about My Lai before, here. It was an event of great complexity, and I highly recommend this must-read teaching case study on the subject, which comes as close to explaining what happened there–and why it happened–as I think anything ever could.

I want to reiterate the must-read status of the teaching case. Even if you think you know all about My Lai and what happened there–and especially why it happened–please think again, and read it if you haven’t already done so.

There’s an old saying to the effect that the military is always fighting the previous war rather than the present one. That’s another way of saying it’s hard to foresee what will happen, and much easier (although still surprisingly difficult) to know what already has happened, and that institutions have a tendency to become hidebound in their thinking processes. Creativity is needed, although creativity is risky–but it’s just as risky to lack it.

The military seems to be a bit better nowadays at thinking ahead, although far from perfect. But it’s the press that seems stuck in fighting previous wars–especially the previous war in which the press believes itself to have been the hero, Vietnam. Haditha fits quite well into that vision; it may indeed be the My Lai the press has long been expecting, or it may not (and please, read Belmont Club on the subject of press coverage of Haditha so far).

Is a new set of rules emerging under which modern warfare must be waged by the West? Here are those rules, as best I can determine them (with only a little bit of exaggeration):

(1) Wars cannot last more than a few weeks.

(2) In the “hot” stage of the war, no civilians can die.

(3) In the aftermath of a war, no civilians can die.

(4) All military investigations of possible war crimes and atrocities must be treated by the press as though they are already coverups. The accused are guilty until proven innocent. And, of course, since the military always lies and covers up, the accused can never really be proven innocent by a military court.

What would these rules do? They would set up war as an impossible to execute but morally black and white situation in which we keep our hands impeccably clean (see here for my previous essay on that subject.)

Yes indeed, the goal is to be perfect–to never commit a war crime, to never have an innocent civilian die. But realistically, that goal will never be reached. The best we–or any nation–can do is to train our troops as well as possible in order to reduce the number of such incidents to almost nothing, and to ruthlessly investigate and prosecute them whenever they do occur.

Because the truth is that in wars innocent civilians will always be killed, and always tragically–whether it be in targeted and precision bombing raids gone awry in the “hot” segment of the war, or even in true war crimes during the later “assymetrical guerilla and/or terrorist warfare” stage.

Some would say that the best way to remain morally pure–if that is our interest–is to never wage war. But that ignores the price of inaction and passivity. Back in November I wrote the following, which still seems relevant:

Yes, indeed, there’s enough blood to go around. There always is in war; wars involve blood on everyone’s hands, including pacifists, who are responsible for some of the blood involved in feeding the crocodile.

Of course, the price that inaction would have cost is always speculative–and therefore deniable–if action has been taken instead. And the price of an action taken is relatively real and quantifiable. It’s only if inaction has been followed that we can know its true consequences.

Take your choice of which price you would like to pay. Please remember that neither can be known in advance, that all decisions must be made based on incomplete and possibly flawed information, and that hindsight is always 20/20.

Arrival

The New Neo Posted on by

Well, I’m in Seattle!

My clever ploy to take an umbrella evidently worked, because it was quite lovely all day yesterday, and it’s only cloudy today–not so bad–with a downpour only during the night. I even left some Seattle weather behind at Logan Airport, where there was a driving rain as my airplane took off, three hours behind schedule.

Despite the delay, the flight itself was unremarkable–which means excellent. However, since I arrived so late, I went to bed Friday night (Saturday morning, that is) at the equivalent of 6AM, east coast time. That’s why I took the day off yesterday to chill out and visit and recover.

Speaking of recovery, about twenty-four hours before my departure I sensed I was coming down with a nasty cold. You know how it is–one moment you’re fine, going about your business, and the next moment you know you’re not only about to get sick, you actually already are sick. So, desperate to avoid becoming really sick on vacation, I tried taking some of those zinc lozenges I’d heard so much about.

I hereby report, much to my delight, that they seem to be working. Even though I know I can’t scientifically prove it by this sample of a single cold, so far the symptoms have been so much less severe than usual that I’m willing to do my bit to advertise the zinc treatment to those few of you who might have previously been aware of it. The worst that seems to happen is that you are forced to suck on a pretty decent-tasting zinc-laced hard candy every couple of hours. Sad, isn’t it?

The amazing umbrella cover museum of Nancy 3

The New Neo Posted on by

Recently an acquaintance told me about a museum he’d visited that is dedicated to the umbrella cover.

Yes, you heard me right: the umbrella cover. Those little thingees that cover umbrellas. The ones people like me lose almost the first time they use any umbrella.

And where do those umbrella covers go? The way of the single sock and the lost button? No; they apparently find a home at the umbrella cover museum in Peak’s Island, Maine, billed as “the world’s only umbrella cover museum.” I believe the hype; it’s hard to imagine that there would be more than one.

The museum’s owner, Nancy 3 Hoffman (no, that number is not a typo), is not the sort to lose umbrella covers. Au contraire. She speaks of the genesis of her rather singular establishment:

When asked what inspired her to open such an unusual museum, Nancy 3. replied, “I was cleaning out my house one day, and discovered that I still had all of the covers from all of the umbrellas I’d ever bought (seven or so). That got me thinking. Then one day, around 1992, I was in a dime store and I stole a cover off of an umbrella . . . just the cover. Then I knew I was hooked. After that I started planning the Museum and soliciting donations for the exhibits.”

…Umbrella covers currently on display at the Umbrella Cover Museum hail from thirty countries. Regular Museum events include guided tours and the singing of “Let a Smile Be Your Umbrella,” with accordion accompaniment.

Accordion accompaniment. Yes indeed, if you’re going to have an umbrella cover museum , you must have accordion accompaniment.

Take a look at one of the items featured in the museum’s esoteric collection:

What is it? Why, an umbrella cover made of gum wrappers, of course.

I combed the website seeking an explanation of Nancy 3 Hoffman’s unusual middle name, but found nothing. It’s ignored, as though having a numeral for a middle initial were a commonplace thing, hardly worthy of mention and certainly not worth discussing.

But I have a theory. I think that Nancy 3 might be a Tom Lehrer devotee. Having been raised on Lehrer myself (see this), I recognize a possible allusion to Lehrer’s intro to his classic song “We Will All Go Together When We Go:”

I am reminded at this point of a fellow I used to know whose name was Henry, only to give you an idea of what a individualist he was, he spelled it H-E-N-3-R-Y. The three was silent, you see.

Nancy 3 is certainly an individualist, as well. As is her museum.

And all of this is just a complex segue into my announcement: today I’m on my way to Seattle for a vacation. That’s why I’ve got umbrellas on the brain. My plan is to continue to blog while I’m away. So, I’m off!

More on politics and friends

The New Neo Posted on by

I want to spotlight this question that appeared in the comments section of my earlier thread on politics and friendship [some spelling corrections made here]:

…if this is the state of your personal relationships, is the blog a chance to say all those things you can’t with them, a place to find ideological fellowship, or both or neither? Do [your friends] know about the blog? Just curious.

I began this blog mainly because I was spending so much time reading and commenting on other blogs that I figured I might as well start one of my own. At the time, I was writing quite a few emails to Andrew Sullivan, and a great many of them were being published on his blog (this was back when he was still featuring a couple of emails a day). It was fun to think that, because of the enormous volume of Sullivan’s traffic, many people were probably reading my words.

But at the beginning, I never thought this blog would generate much traffic. I started out very slowly and tentatively here around the time of the build-up to the 2004 election, not ever thinking I’d be using it as much more than a dump for a few of the emails I’d sent to Andrew, or some of my longer comments on other blogs.

But I did have an idea; that’s why I gave the blog the name I did. As I said, I really wasn’t thinking that I’d ever have much traffic. But I was thinking that I wanted to make this a place to discuss the changes I’d undergone post-9/11, and to make it a place where people who’d had similar experiences would feel especially welcome. I knew I’d be discussing change in general, and it’s interesting to me that so many of my posts have indeed continued to deal with that topic in one form or other.

And yes, since I began the blog in the intense period of the buildup to the 2004 Presidential election, it was at least partly an effort to channel the energy I had to speak about these things away from friends and family, most of whom had made it clear that they wanted to take such topics off the table. I was only too happy to oblige, because the experience with them had been so unproductive and unpleasant.

So the answer to the first question from the commenter is “both.” Primarily, however, this blog has been a way to say things I just feel I need to say, and to make them available for others read them. In that I think I resemble most bloggers: we like to get our thoughts out there in written form.

As for the second question, whether my friends know about the blog, the answer is also “yes.” I’ve given all those who are close to me–and many who are less close, but still friends–the URL. I’ve invited them to read it, with the caveat that they probably would disagree with my viewpoints. But of course, most of them already know that.

I’ve never sent them links to any political posts of mine, however, unless they’ve specifically requested that–and very few have. To send such things to them at this point would constitute a sort of mild harassment. Now politics only comes up if they choose to bring it up.

There are two family members who read my blog regularly. It is probably no coincidence that those are the two closest to me, and that they also happen to be the two who have come (at least partially, and to different degrees) over to the dark side along with me. There’s one good friend who remains staunchly liberal who reads here regularly and thoughtfully. But most of you probably won’t be surprised to learn that the rest of my friends virtually never come here, although I do send them links to some of my lighter, nonpolitical, pieces from time to time, if I think they’d enjoy that.

Of course, there are many possible explanations for my friends’ general lack of interest in reading my blog. I was drawn to blogs the moment I first found them, back in 2002. Something about them just resonated with me–I liked the personal voice, the lively give and take, the sense of a Greek chorus (sometimes humorous) commenting on the news that had heretofore been intoned mostly by the likes of Cronkite and Rather.

But since the majority of people don’t read blogs–left or right–most of my friends fall squarely into that category. Therefore the fact that they never read my blog isn’t all that strange. But I still like to think that, if the tables were reversed, and I was the non-blog-reader and my friends the bloggers, I would have enough curiosity to go to their blogs and read from time to time.

But nothing I write here is a secret, not only in the sense that a blog is in the public domain, but also in the sense that I’ve given the information out to friends. What they do with it is their business.

I’ve found a lack of general interest on both sides in reading much of what the other side has to say. Since I’m the Tiresias of bloggers (metaphorically, that is!), I’ve spent quite a bit of time reading on both sides now. I think that’s especially true of other “changers.” And I still do quite a bit of reading of the NY Times and the Boston Globe, as well as my old favorite, the New Yorker, as well as a smattering of articles decidedly to the left of those publications.

But back when I was a liberal Democrat, I hardly ever recall reading periodicals on the right. One reason was that I thought I already was reading media that presented both sides fairly (the above MSM publications). I think that’s a common perception still, among liberals.

There’s also a perception that there’s no need to read the other side because it’s all garbage any way. And no doubt there are many on the right who feel that way about the other side, as well. But I think it’s a bit harder for those on the right to avoid reading views from the liberal side, since it’s so well represented in the MSM. And it always strikes me as strange that liberals, who pride themselves on openminded reflection and inclusion, as well as respect for different “truths,” should so often be doctrinaire about shutting out the voices on the right from their own consciousness. If liberal stereotypes about the right are to believed, that’s exactly the sort of behavior one would expect from the narrow-minded right, isn’t it?