Kurt Vonnegut

1922-2007

When Kurt Vonnegut died people wrote, said, and quoted many things about him. These were all very fitting, but the above picture (which I couldn't locate at the time) summed it up best for me. Let this serve as a belated though heart felt tribute to a great man and author.

In Crossmaglen...

It has been brought up that the devolution of policing and justice may be held up until the Army Council dissolves. Certainly pertinent in this debate is the murder of Paul Quinn (okay maybe not the best link but one that came to mind quickly). The brutal death of this young man has sparked a McCartneyesque like movement which has professionalized and streamlined rather quickly.

To be honest there were a couple things that came to my mind when I've read of this but the one that has kept coming back, kept nagging at me and finally made me reach for a novel I'd read. Not a bad book if you have nothing else going but one which has since stayed on the shelf and collected dust, until now. The oldest son of a widowed school teacher in WWII Italy Nino who served with the partisans in the war explains,

"The war was a joke, Ma!...but the joke isn't over...These characters think they can start all over again, like before: Don't you see that? Well, Ma, they're wrong! They put real guns in our hands, when we were kids! And now we're having fun making peace!"

Maybe I'm just missing the boat on this one but I don't really believe that the AC funds all (or a majority) of SF's electoral activity. It was made very clear when Friends of Sinn Fein (note the address for donations) was set up that all money donated was clearly marked to go to "legitimate" political activity. This was indeed a snub to the long term supporters from NORAID. Some of which openly crossed over to support Gerry McGeough in his failed electorial bid for a seat at Stormont as an anti-PSNI/pro-Immaculate Heart of Mary candidate. Something tells that real estate investments in Bulgaria have very little to do with getting Grizzly Adams elected president in the Free State.

The cost of operating the AC independent of actual operations of has been estimated to be anywhere from 7-11 million euro a year (as noted by the Gardai in 2005). It is also believed that by the late ninteties that over 2/3 of petrol stations in the North were selling laundered diesel. I would imagine this number has dropped some as the ARA has stepped up its activities and people start to realize the environmental hazards that smuggling diesel actually presents to the localities. Slab, as we all know was listed as the richest smuggler in Britain by the BBC in 2004. And while he's currently awaiting trial on tax evasion charges even Willie Frazer admits that he still drives an old beat up van and lives on his family farm. IE he's not exactly buying holiday homes in Donegal like GA or taking holidays to Portugal like Gerry Kelly. Their incomes come from an even shadier source, the British Government. That money goes to the Provisional AC. Continuity may hold blessing of the first Dail, but the Provos hold the purse strings when it comes to funding. Lord knows that RIRA haven't able to make a go of it and the INLA are stuck in some sort of Soviet cubist mode while trying to comes to grips with the economics of Perestroika.




Ah, but once again I've veered off the track I had wanted to go down. I'm sorry, but I'm not particularly interested in whether or not Paul Quinn ever drove smuggled fuel. The hard men in Crossmaglen will continue to operate as they have regardless of whether the AC stays on or disbands. Certainly this episode illustrates the down and dirty nature of the black market economy which is prevelant in NI. If anything comes of this I would say it would be a further move away from this type of operation to the more refined real estate deals such the kind exposed in Manchester and Bulgaria.

As for the devolution of Policing and Justice. Well I think the Assembly and Executive should show that they can make their existing portfolios work for the people of NI before they take on one more thing to hose up. Though to be honest, could do they do any worse than these guys?

It Was On A Dreary New Years Eve...

I previously noted in passing that I happened upon the 50th anniversary of Sean South. Not the commemoration, by any means but the one in Limerick, which while not bad was certainly not not up to par with having replica weapons and trucks in tow. Never the less it was interesting and enjoyable. If only for the fact that it was the only time in Ireland that we were able to sit and have a drink with someone on a normal basis (after the fact of course). Martin was there of course, as was Martin Ferris. We saw the signs and because of my neurotic nature showed up over half an hour early.

Due to my ignorance of Irish politics I had no idea that the RSF commemoration was due to assemble shortly before (ie 2:15 RSF v 2:30 PSF). So we showed up at 2:00 when we saw the piper started to assemble. At the beginning I was a little a startled by the lack of support of support that PSF was able to pull this event. Now I knew that Sean South was no Bobby Sands but I figured that the 50th anniversary would be able to draw more than some pensioners, a few Fianna and some rather thuggish looking individuals in army sweaters who turned out to be the color guard (A personal note If I may, if you must be dressed in paramilitary get up of green sweater then please ensure that you're in decent shape. Man boobs are quite unbecoming regardless of your politics).

We chatted for awhile with a younger fellow who was looking a but rough from a broken nose ('tis the drink you know). We were chatting with him when Special Branch came upon us after hassling the Fianna kids got boring and approached to question us. As our companion was local it was the usual name and address. They seemed shocked when asked for my hometown and I replied "Denver, Colorado". I didn't see fit to explain that I really hadn't flown all this way just to attend a RSF event as I generally dislike authority and political policing especially.

What I was struck by in regards to Martin's speech was the disconnect between talking about the past and talking about the future of Stormont. It wasn't that I felt he was insincere, just that when it came to talking about the North and the political situation he was in his element and he was able to develop a rhythm n

Zero Hour

Well not quite, that's in another five hours but you all know what I mean. So then I'm off. I'll be back Tuesday. Hopefully I'll fill out the Limerick episode (by the way, it was the Sean South commemoration) and have some thoughts on the American campaign trail.

I was looking for the Edentubber Martyr's post as a segway into my time in stab city (which I enjoyed immensely BTW) during which I got caught up in a RSF demo, got questioned by Special Branch*, and then marched with the Provos because really, after shopping for hours in the rain I thought, why not?

On the way, I noticed that a thread on an earlier posting from El Blogador. At 91 comments at the time of my reading its doing fairly decently at stirring some debate.

But lets be honest. There's really no need for all this commotion if we could only appreciate for a minute the concept of contextualization. Now, now, I know that it was brought up and summarily dismissed by the third post. But lets be honest that has more to do with party hackery than anything else.

El Blogador while an honest sort, has occasionally (As I've pointed out before) been known to descend into party hackery. Now I'm not at all cynical at the fact that an SDLP blogger is playing up being a Republican Party shortly after certain happenings (And yes I do know that self linking is a totally Pete Baker kind of move, but fuck all).

*I would've sworn that the lead detective was Micheal McDowell out on a weekend jaunt to harass "Republicans". The quotes will remain until we figure out who's really a Republican and who's just a communalist/nationalist/fascist/bigoted/defender.

Burn Down The Mission

I've already been over this once and have no real desire to beat a dead horse but this story caught my eye. For some reason, it seems popular to compare NI with Spain in terms of conflict resolution (maybe its the vacation homes). I don't quite think this is the right way to go. Spain was a case in which one side came out on top only to find that while fascism won the battle it had definitely lost the war. And while the CNT (much to my chagrin) was never able to quite re-establish itself, the Republican narrative reigned supreme. Except in Spain. It is only recently that the Spanish government even came forward to formally condemn the Fascist regime. This in and of itself has not gone unopposed. Slugger has noted the Spanish attempt to come to terms with the past as has Malcolm. Interesting thoughts here on remembrance in general, especially in terms of victory versus tradegy in how events are remembered (or not).

I remember reading books such as Requiem for a German Past which essentially sought to answer the question thrown at so many Germans by their children during the post war years, "Where were you during that time?". More recently books like The Himmler Brothers have come out to explore those roots deeper. What I am struck by is not the success or failure of these books to come up with the answers, but the deeply personal nature of that search for truth and meaning.

Tim O'Brien's best book on Vietnam is easily The Things They Carried. Its been years since I picked it up but a particular chapter has always stuck with me. Its about How To Tell a True War Story. Truth, meaning, and memory are shown for what they are, which is woefully inadequate.

There has also been a very heated string of posts by WBS over Cedar Lounge over the shootings at Coolacrease. Well worth the read if you get a chance. Certainly blogging at its best. The latest post queries an interesting point,

"We could believe those [views] presented by the British Army correspondance, or the IRA inquiry, or alternatively the written testimony of one or other of the sisters. Or we could believe Muldowney, or we can believe Sammon or Harris. But that’s all we can do. We can have no degree of certainty. We cannot know"

My family tells the story of a small inn we used to own on the outskirts of Budapest where travellers could stop and rest and store livestock before going to sell them in the capitol. When the Russians came in they attempted to "requisition" the pigs for themselves. One of my family members attempted to protest that those were their pigs. He was summarily beaten unconscious and thrown into the sty where he was then trampled to death by his own pigs. My family is very proud of the fact that they "went out" in '56. When I was younger I had the audacity to ask,

"Well what did we do against the Nazi's?"

I was given a look that was clearly meant to shame me and informed,

"Why, nothing of course".

My family weren't members of the Arrow Cross Party or anything like it but were simply ordinary people who were all too fallible and probably too busy staying alive. I suspect something similar in Spain (and many other parts of the world).

I guess that most Spaniards won't be fawning over Carmen Polo or her father but neither will they all be lining up to lynch her either. Why? Because very few of them have probably ever been asked or able to answer, Where were you when...? But then again if things were different, could any of us?

Happy Thanksgiving

From all of us here at Misanthropy Abroad* I would like to wish everyone a happy holiday.

*Me, the mouse in my pocket and whoever is responsible for my new found desire to use the asterix after all this time.

Tune In, Turn On, Drop Out

Awhile ago with cash in hand (a fairly substantial sum) I walked into the store and came home with my new Playstation 3. I am if there was a doubt, an occasional video game junkie. Not like some of my fiance's coworkers who read up on the latest updates and swap stories from the techie side of it. But simply a guy, who every couple of months will spend a week solid frittering away every moment of free time trying to beat a new game. In and of itself it not that big of a thing but it was enough that I included in my marriage disclaimer.

Marriage Disclaimer

To be honest I hadn't planned on going to France nor did I really want to. I was going to Ireland, not Frog land. But when it became apparent that I couldn't not* invite her and she said she wanted to go to France we compromised, and went to France. We arrived after taking an over night ferry from Portsmouth to St. Malo just before New Year's Eve. Having arrived six hours early for the departure we decided that once we had checked our bags to grab a pint and dinner. Having approached two establishments that both had large colorful signs that proudly proclaimed "we serve food" we were looked at like we were speaking a foreign language when we asked for food. So to console myself I spent the next five hours drinking English Budweiser. Not nearly as good as our own but then again what does one expect from the English?

The seas that night were exceptionally rough, and the ship was locked down. The Fish and Chips (yes I really did order it everywhere I could) I ate at a white trash motel restaurant suddenly didn't seem like the best thing in the world. The Budweiser of course had nothing to do with it as "the King" is a benevolent ruler who bestows upon his loyal subjects great wit and insight whenever they are in his presence. In the middle of the night my soon to be fiance gets an anxiety attack and we decide to search the ship for help. Aside from my lack of sea legs, the drink had finally set and I was left wanting for resourcefulness. We waylaid one stranger and my fiance tried bad French for direction to the ship's hospital (she does have a flare for the dramatic at times). To which he laughed and replied, "How should I know? I'm English" after which he returned to the bar. So here we are at 1:00 in the morning walking all over the ship with my fiance swearing that, "she's going to die" while I try to reassure her, occasionally stopping to turn and projectile vomit in multiple locations (yes vacations are lovely). When we finally came upon the help which was incidentally very close to our room the French found our predicament hilarious. I sincerely hoped they kept that sense of humor the next morning when they were able to appreciate the many finer points of English cuisine.

Suffice to say that my arrival into France was not the graceful entry of a seasoned world traveller, or even innocence abroad, but a rather dehydrated, hungover, hungry and tired American who despite my unwillingness to boycott France was still leary of the French. But the next two days were spent recuperating in Mont St. Michel, shopping in St. Malo and climbing around the outlying forts when the tide was out. It has been noted before that I am not adventurous when it comes to eating, but I'm also not the kind of American that goes to other countries just to stand in line at McDonalds. So for the duration of my stay in France (who make terrible coffee by the way) choking down numerous dishes that my palette found less than desirable and a number of cheeses that reminded me of how my socks smelled at the end of a work day. The creme de la creme of it all though was the New Year's Eve dinner (50 euro a head) that served little pigs in a blanket as a course. I mean come on, pigs in a fucking blanket. What does this have to do with a marriage disclaimer you ask? Excellent question, nothing really really except as a maybe a prologue. Though this trip was the basis for this blog title.

Having decided some time previously to propose marriage I decided that I would do it in France at Mont St. Michel on New Years Eve blah, blah, blah. But being the analytical sort of person that I am I decided to take a long view of things and be logical. Here I was whisking my girlfriend off to Europe. Taking her shopping, buying French lingerie while we holed up in a castle (well at least down the street from one) and going down on one knee on New Year's Eve. If I had picked up a chick on the way to the airport I'm pretty sure that I could've gotten her to say yes (not that I would've, but I could've). This being the case I decided to forgo the usual speech about my undying love and devotion and all of the wonderful things we could if we spent our lives together. No, instead I spent a solid half hour before my proposal walking the walls of Mont St. Michel outlining all of my faults, shortcomings and defects. A few key points were as follows:

• I'll never be anything other than a construction worker
• I'll never get any better at putting the toilet seat down
• I'll never be in any better shape than I am right now
• I will continue to go on an "occasional" beer binge and get fall down drunk at inoppurtune times and "possibly" vomit on the front lawn where all of the neighbors can see me
• I'll never outgrow playing video games
• I will continue to think porn is great no matter how often I get laid

Now admittedly, I don't do all of these things all the time but I wanted the record to be straight just in case any of these things ever came up as an issue of contention.

* Yes, I'm aware that I used a double negative. I felt that writing, "I had to invite her" was missing the point of the sentence to begin with as it suggested a sense of coercion which is most certainly not the case.

Eighteen Days to go...

Okay eighteen days, two roasted pigs, one deck and five doors (side jobs) until I get married. This is my third post about being busy, so I feel like misc. excuses are wearing thin so It thought I'd be specific about things. I'd never imagined men could get to be as involved in weddings as women, but I'd be proven wrong.

To set the record straight, the list of things that will allow me to have a good wedding day are as follows:

• She says "yes"
• I get Budweiser in a can at the reception (I'll probably have to sneak it in but that's okay, I've been doing it for so long that my wedding shouldn't be any different)
• I hear songs that I like at the reception

That's it. I don't really care if the food is good. I could care less if the flower boy or my father aren't wearing the same suit as the wedding party (sorry no tuxedos for me). I don't care if I trip walking out of the church and split my head open, well maybe that one might suck but you get the idea.

The bachelor party is this Saturday (hence the pigs) so we'll see what comes of it. Suffice to say that I'm burnt out, bled dry and ready to be done with weddings. Though I'm looking quite forward to marriage.

Misanthropy Loves Company

Just west of Gypsum Colorado and north of a dot on the map called Dotsero there are a series of switch backs that will take one up to 11,000 feet (plus) passing Basque sheep herders in their caravans along the way. The Flat Tops wilderness is like no other place in Colorado (or in the world, but my experience in that is limited). Further back there are literally no roads, just game trails in the dark timber, further down, the roads exist but can still be blocked by snow drifts in June. The dark timber eventually gives way aspens which give way themselves to scrub oak and arctic/subarctic plains until the entire land mass drops off the limestone cliffs.

It is to this area that we've gone elk hunting for years. At last count we've lost one trailer, and one outfitter's tent to the weather. We about added a 4-Runner this year, but more on that on later. I must confess that when it comes to elk hunting I lack what many would call a "killer instinct". Yeah I get up before dawn and go push and post and the game trails but my heart's not always in it. For starters, the land itself is surely enough to make even the most devout atheist believe in God as you watch a sea of clouds come below you and fill the numerous ravines as you sit on a limestone outcropping above . Secondly, for some reason when I find myself totally without distractions I am unable to quash the desire to read. Many a year has gone by (and possibly many an elk) with me sitting on a game trail, ridge or any other place with my nose stuck in a book. A good portion of the Brothers Karamazov was digested in a bush in the middle of clearing into which I had crawled before dawn one year. Finally, Elk are truly majestic creatures and though members of my party have had the opportunity to get elk, they like myself are simply awe struck at the sight of such elegance and grace. So it was again this year as once more we headed up.

I was fairly sick on Saturday and didn't get out until well after the alarm went off at 4:45am but still headed out early enough to catch the snow storm move in while overlooking the steep draws of French Creek while having lunch. By the time we returned in the evening it had started to accumulate on the tents and getting the fire going was a bit of a challenge. But still, it's always a pleasure to spend time with family in what surely must count as a paradise of sorts.

Sunday morning my brother and I were both up fairly quickly and out to investigate. As we drank coffee and ate our breakfast we looked back at our tent which had partially collapsed due to the snow storm. When we hollared to the other tent about going hunting they enquired about the snow. We informed them that it was indeed still snowing and were annoyed (though not surprised) to hear that they would not be going out. We quickly came came to an unspoken understanding that with a partially collapsed tent, an unabating snowstorm and two older companions with a string of bad luck in regards to losing things up here in bad weather that discretion was indeed the better part of valor and that a hasty retreat from the area was in order.

As we finished loading up the truck to leave I opened up the cab door and surveyed the scene. On the bench seat between my brother and myself lay two pistols, additional clips for said pistols, rifle ammo, knives, cigarettes, cigars, cans of beer, some other smokable entity of a more questionable legal nature and Waylon Jennings belting out Bob Wills Is Still the King, and "if that ain't country I'll kiss your ass". Now admittedly we're very gonzo, but still.

We progressed up out of camp towards the main road with my dad in the lead until we came to one of the steeper hills and the 4-Runner first stalled in its advance and on a second attempt actually slid sideways off of the side of the hill. We were last up the hill and once I topped out my brother told me that I'd better go back and see what I could do. So cigar in mouth (I left the beer behind) I ran down the hill to find my dad trying to get out his chains. Surveying the situation I quickly came to the conclusion that chains at this point would be unnecessary and could be counter productive. Articulating this in my usual graceful vernacular I said, "fuck that". I hopped in the 4-Runner, donned the alpine hat my uncle had brought home from the service. I proceeded to get the truck up and out. I happily return to my truck, put in Jerry Jeff and lit another stogie knowing that we would all get down from the flat tops in one piece.

Decent Teamster? Possibly. Great White Hunter? Definitely not.

Meet The New Boss Redux

In my last real post I noted that as long the mud slinging was restricted to politicians themselves or at least to "respectable" pundits then things will remain on a somewhat even keel. It appears that things are heating up in that arena as a new video has shot to number one on Youtube for the past two weeks. Interesting point from the article,

Paul's anti-Clinton effort is getting help from two technical producers who set up the Web site for Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, the 2004 campaign that went after Democratic presidential nominee John Kerry by raising questions about his decorated military service in Vietnam.

Now I have little time for Hillary but she she deserves to be damned on her own merits, not slanderous accusations. I remember her spat with Obama in which she came out the "victor" because Obama was supposed to be playing up the "audacity of hope" while Clinton and her groupies were veterans of numerous capital hill brawls. This is where it comes back around. The problem with being ruthless in ones pursuit of power, is that you will indeed crush anyone who gets in the way and that they tend to remember things like that. I don't think that this kind of thing will be able to stop her from getting elected but should be interesting never the less.

Sorry, I'm about to head out of town tomorrow for a wedding on Saturday and so won't be able to get off any of the three posts I'm currently working on. So stay tuned in and expect a glut in early November. Not that they're anything spectacular, just guns, politics, alcohol, David Allen Coe and alpine hats. Now if only I could get my posts to publish out of order so that old drafts can be posted up top instead on the date they were started, but we still peresevere.

Meet The New Boss....

I've been too busy to write up a real post but a number of things have been on my mind that need to get out. So in no particular order here we go.

McCain has recently criticized Clinton for flip-flopping on Iraq. Look lets just get this straight right now, changing your mind is not necessarily a bad thing, in fact it can be a good thing if you see something that isn't working and you want to try something different. Note throwing more troops at a political problem isn't change, it's an act of desperation that shows a fundamental misunderstanding of the situation in Iraq. Somewhat along the lines of say, traipsing through a market surrounded by a phalanx of troops while claiming that Baghdad is a secure place. But baiting Democrats on international affairs is so 2004. For a real look to see how things have changed and will yet stay the same we look to last Tuesday's WSJ article. Too lazy to read the whole thing? That's okay I'll pick out the best part for you.

"Well known business leaders have openly changed allegiances. Morgan Stanley Stanley Chairman and Chief Executive John Mack, formerly a big Bush backer, now supports Democratic front-runner Hillary Clinton of New York"

Now I doubt John Mack has had a Damascean conversion to economic populism and regardless of what Jim Webb might have to say about the matter I doubt Hillary will spend too much time worrying about actually implementing any form of economic populism. So all in all we end right back where we began.

Having grown up in a traditionally Red State that has recently succumbed to the Blue tide I am reminded of, the Who.
______________________________________

The first anniversary of Anna Politkovskaya's death and the war in Chechnya are intersting reminders that terrorism is never as simple as simple as it may appear. Post 2001 the Bush administration was willing to turn a blind eye to Russian tactics in Chechnya. As long as it fit into the larger theme of the war on terror. This has turned into a two way sword as members of the PKK launch continued attacks on Turkish forces who have been prevented from following them into Iraq. Why is this? Because the Kurds are the lynch pin holding Iraq together and though of course we all know that there's no cross over in membership between and either the PUK or the KDP it still wouldn't do to have a new third front open up in Iraq right now that might also stir up unwanted attention to other activities that the PKK might be getting up to.
_________________________________________

In Sri Lanka the military has "confirmed" that it destroyed the last sea worthy boat from the Tamil Tigers navy. Whether or not this marks the "last throes of the insurgency" remains to be seen. But with the loss of the eastern side of the island due to Col. Karuna's defection and the introduction of an Tamil "air force" means that the fighting has certainly taken on a new and nastier tone than previously. On a side note regarding the complexities of terrorism, it may of intrest to note that it was the Tamil Tigers who develop and refined the suicide bombing techniques used so widely and effectively in the bevy of conflicts around the world today, a national liberation struggle, not religious fundamentalists.

Well not nearly everything that was on my mind but enough to let me get to bed and sleep. Night All

Due to circumstances of a varied nature my posting will be erratic at best for the month of October. I've got a draft or two in the works but a trifecta of things (wedding, work, hunting) are and will continue to take up a great deal of my time for the rest of the month. Hopefully something resemblig normal posting will resume in November.

We Shall Overcome Redux

Well once again I am left with egg on my face over a prior prediction. It looks like that the Soldiers of Destiny will be invading NI after all. Almost ten years after the war, but I suppose better late than never (legion of the rear guard indeed). Obviously the pundits are doing overtime to get their opinions in here, and here. Odd that neither Irishelection.com or Cedar Lounge have anything, but quite possibly it may just be that they have real lives to attend to (update-Cedar Lounge's response here and Irish Election's here). Aside from the fact that I called it wrong most of my other points still stand. After claiming NI as their own for umpteen years I can't see why FF would give Dermot the brief. I hardly think the people whose votes you wish to gain would appreciate being considered foreigners whatever view Aer Lingus might take.

FF may have alot more money but SF have the people on the ground and know how to use them. Not only to canvas before an election but to maximize vote management. As noted previously FF and Bertie in particular need to check their ego and enforce some electoral discipline on their party. With the SDLP living on in one sort or another FF will not be able to get a clean sweep and a fresh start for their candidates. This will no doubt increase the sense of dissatisfaction among the more labor oriented members if the SDLP lives on as a fig leaf for FF during Westminster elections. One can least expect a portion of SDLP stalwarts to either push for a labor alternative or simply stay home, further dwindling the pool that FF want to draw from.

And though everyone knows that SF is the main target and the launch of FF up north is seen as a counter attack on the SF redoubt it remains to be seen as to whether FF have a stomach for a real fight where they find themselves (for once) in the position of underdog, or at least outsider. And as much as FF are flaunting the need for a normal centerist party that has a grasp of the economy they may be left feeling the odd man out when the Tiger cools. Also in the mix is the odd timing especially in regards to certain financial irregularities regarding the Teflon Taoiseach. Not that I'm the least cynical about the motive of politicians but then again Bertie would not be the first leader in history to announce a nice little war to alleviate domestic unease.

Then there are the issue of transfers. Empey's ill phrased complaint about FF aside the move does bring up another interesting issue, transfers. Previously the SDLP had enjoyed a degree of success from transfers, even and especially from unionists voters in concerted attempts to keep SF out. It will be something to look at during the next election cycle as to whether FF can successfully maintain the small n approach in certain areas that the SDLP was able to do. Or whether or not the argument of "vote for us to keep SF out" will fly when it's the Republic knocking on the door.

Definitely a space to keep watching.

In Memorium

SEAN CANAVAN, 39 Brooklyn NY Initiated 1981. Finish/Furniture. Local 608. Father and brother are also UBC members. Survivors include his many beloved nieces and nephews.

MARTIN COUGHLAN, 53 Bayside NY Initiated 1987. Interior Systems. Local 608. Immigrated with family from Ireland in 1987.Wife Catherine; Orla (27),Ailish (24), Sinead (21), Denise (19).

MATTHEW DIAZ, 33 Brooklyn NY Initiated 1998. Floorlayer. Local 2287. Reached safety but returned to help others.Wife Karen; Michael (7), Christopher (3).

PAUL GILL, 34 Astoria NY Initiated 1986. Carpenter. Local 608. Fulltime NYC firefighter lost in the line of duty. Wife Tina; Aaron (14).

MAURICIO GONZALEZ, 27 NYC, NY Initiated 1995. Carpenter. Local 608. Held dozens of skill and safety certifications. Wife Evan; Nina (1).

MAURICE KELLY, 41 Bronx NY Initiated 1980. Interior Systems. Local 157.Acoustical ceilings specialist. Children Danielle (17), Sean (10), Thomas (7).


CHRIS KIRBY, 21 Bronx NY Initiated 1997. Carpenter. Local 608. A third-year apprentice and sports lover.

BENJAMIN MILLMAN, 40 Staten Island NY Initiated 1999. Carpenter. Local 608. Wife Toby; Brandon (14), Maghan (7).

JOSEPH MISTRULLI, 47 Wantagh NY Initiated 1982 Interior Systems. Local 157. Foreman and holder of numerous certifications. Wife Philomena; Joseph (22), Mary (21),Angela (16).


BRIAN MONAGHAN, 21 New York NY Initiated 2001.Apprentice. Local 157. Reached safety but returned to help others

DAVID ORTIZ, 37 Bronx NY Initiated 1998. Carpenter. Local 608. Employed by the Port Authority (NYC transit agency).


JOSEPH PISKADLO, 48 N. Arlington NJ Initiated 1973. Carpenter. Local 157. Immigrated from Poland in 1962. Wife Rosemary; Brian (23), Laura (21), Steven (18).


JOHN RIZZO, 50 Brooklyn NY Initiated 1979. Carpenter. Local 608. Wife Concetta; Giuseppe (20), Luigi (10)

DANIEL ROSETTI, 32 Bloomfield NJ Initiated 2001. Journeyman Carpenter. Local 15 (NJ). Was thrilled to “work above the clouds, close to heaven.” Fiancee Christine Bennett; son Justin (14 mos.)


DAVID RUDDLE, 31 Bronx NY Initiated 1996. Interior Systems. Local 157.The youngest of eight children. Daughter Amanda (11).

STEPHEN RUSSELL, 40 Arverne NY Initiated 1987. Carpenter. Local 45. Fulltime NYC firefighter lost in the line of duty.

ERICK SANCHEZ, 41 Brooklyn NY Initiated 1987. Journeyman Floorlayer. Local 2287. Children Kathleen and Raymond.

PATRICK WOODS, 36 Staten Island NY Initiated 1996. Furniture Systems. Local 608. Beach goer, dog lover, strong union man. Survived by both parents and two younger brothers.

Recommended Reading

A couple weeks ago my old roommate came up to stay for the weekend. During his time staying with me he asked to borrow some books that I thought he might enjoy. After picking over my limited selection I came up with a few that I felt fit the bill. The picks were Black Lamb and Grey Falcon, Sand County Almanac, Dr. Zhivago, and I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Though things being what they were he forgot them on my coffee table as he ran out the door Monday morning and I have been reading back over them ever since.

Fruits of the Land and Pictures by Hand


Sand County for me is up there with Walden and Desert Solitaire if not exceeding both of them. Unlike Walden it does not take itself too seriously and unlike Abbey, Leopold was content to reflect on his land and not try to go and milk it for personal gain. I have "borrowed" my father's copy from when he was young (the reprint is from 1970). I am rewarded for this theft by the illustrations which do much more for me than the photographs lining the newer editions. Illustrations such as the ones found in my edition of SCA are one of the few times that the human hand can give more than it takes in regards to nature. I do not dispute that some photographs encapsulate a great deal of emotion and that good photography takes skill. But some of the most powerful pictures are often simply a matter of luck, left to shutter speed and chance.

Sacrificial Lambs

I feel that the latest edition of Black Lamb... with the introduction by Cristopher Hitchens is to be avoided. I was blessed that when I purchased my cheap paperback version, Penguin felt that Rebecca West could stand or fall based upon her own merits and did not try to muddy the waters by adding a modern voice to try to contextualize things by adding a two bit hack to ride on her back as a tick might a dog on whose blood it is feasting.

I bought Love, Poverty and War based upon the fact that the back lauded that Hitchens was, "the best...essayist Britain has produced since Orwell". Woe to those who believe such drivel. Orwell's Road to Wigan Pier and Down and Out... and Homage to Catalonia could all be categorized as decent travel books. Orwell with his scarecrow like cut was the figure to capture discontent and revolution. Hitchens, with his paunch and inability to use a razor would do better to stick to a Cyril Connolly style of writing of personal failure and insightful wit (which I must grant him). Travelling in the same circles as Bremer and Wolfowitz in their "Liberation" of Mess-O-potamia is a far cry from street fighting in Barcelona or even an honest attempt to capture the tragedy that is the Balkan experience. Who would have thought that a communist dictator was the best that one could hope for? His latest book God is Not Great is currently number 21 on the best seller list. But has been pointed out other places, the question still remains as to whether or not the militant pursuit of secularism/agnosticism can bear fruit.

But as is so often the case with this blog, I digress. West raises many points in her meandering tale. Some are worth reflecting upon and others are best left to history and scholars to debate. There are a couple of lines that I have reflected upon personally and have exalted elsewhere.

Admittedly West goes on to slag on Hungary and Ireland, simplifying partition and Trianon in the extreme, but as a great man once said, "So it goes". After she and her husband finish their time in the Balkans they stop in Vienna. She reflects on the Civil War that had rocked Vienna a few years earlier.

Her chauffeur during her stay in Vienna who also happened to chauffeur Major Fey during his political pogrom of the Social Democrat's tenant houses.

"it has never been ascertained how many many of those luckless tenants were killed , imprisoned, or turned loose homeless and destitute; but such victims must have numbered in the many thousands. It was at this...that my chauffeur...had assisted, by driving...about from massacre to massacre, because he thought it was time that somebody did something"

This last line jumped out at me. How many events in history have been set in motion by that kind of ill defined inexplicable belief that something ought to be done. Far too often that something means shooting someone else. In this respect I am full agreement with Malachi O Doherty, that trouble with guns is that there's only so many things you can do with them.

The Doctor is in

Next to the fact that I some times break down and read crap on paper, my most closely guarded secret is that I love Russian literature. Yes Pushkin, Gogol et. al. thrill me in ways that few other authors can hope to. I am often amazed at how they are able to capture the endless steppes while at the same times bringing to life the claustrophobic social ties that constituted Russian society.

Ten Days That Shook the World be damned! Non-fiction has yet to terms with the fact that it takes more than reality to come to grips with the human experience. The book which varies radically from the movie is such a book in which life is cup into which experience is poured. As sometimes happens in order to capture the truth the cup must be allowed to overflow and we must let reality flow over to see it in all of its fullness.

Update: He actually did come back into town with his wife and newborn son. He did remember the books this time and I'm left without quotes to reference.

One For The Road

I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell not only made me nearly piss myself, it made me feel like a very bad person for laughing that hard. Have no doubts, if you buy this book you are a bad person. If you laugh then you are a full blown misogynist. If you actually empathize with Tucker Max at any point or say I've done something like that then you are without a doubt an irredeemable flesh puppet who has no soul who probably drowns puppies in your spare time because it makes you laugh. But I still recommend it.

A Tale of Two Albums

Otis Blue is really the tale of two albums, one of rocking upbeat soul/pop numbers countered by blues/soul songs offsetting one another in what I would call almost the perfect album. This should come as no surprise to students of soul but may surprise some of the "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" crowd. This album simultaneously contains a cover that I feel is more powerful than the original and an original that later became famous as a cover (and for many more poignant for many).

A Change is Gonna Come

I know there are those who may be under the impression that Sam Cooke was a little too pop and too little soul. I would refer these ignorant individuals to Live at the Harlem Square Club. This album I feel even outshines James Brown, Live at the Apollo (though since I've always felt Brown was over rated this doesn't account for too much).

Cooke pinned "A Change is Gonna Come" after personal experiences with Civil rights activists and listening to a Bob Dylan song. The final stanza of Cooke's song is cautiously hopeful reflecting the guarded optimism the times really were changing for the better.

There were times when I thought I couldn't last for long, But now I think I'm able to carry on It's been a long, been a long time coming But I know a change is gonna come, oh yes it will.

Contrast this with the Otis Redding version recorded within two years of the original, in which he radically adapts the final stanza.

There was a time that I thought, Lord this couldn't last very long, somehow I thought I still able, to try to carry on. Its been a long, long, long time coming, but I know a change has gotta come.Its been so long, its been so long, I've lived too long but a change has gotta come,So tired, so tired of standing by myself and standing up alone, but a change has gotta come. You know and I know, that a change is gonna come.

This is a much darker take on Cooke's tune which does not prophesize that a change will come but that it has to. To me this more accurately reflects the outcome of the civil rights movement with its limited objectives and goals. Toward the end Reverend King came to a more overarching vision than that of the original movement. It is ironic that a man whose life was ended due to the fact that he supported an AFSCME strike has led to the likes of Condaleeza Rice and the parody that is the Reverend Al Sharpton.

That is a tragedy. The American Civil Rights movement really was a march for human dignity. It was a march that faltered and at times found its way frustrated by ignorance and hatred. But it did not waver in its commitment to what it knew to be right. Unfortunately that march was never completed. Like so many movements before and since it found that the new world it hoped to birth to be still born. So it settled for diluted reform and the trappings of success.

_______________________________

Otis Blue contained Redding's biggest hit until the post humous release of "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay". While that song has ensured his place in music history it has also helped to obscure what some of us consider to be his true works of art. All three of his covers on this albums (the others being "What a Wonderful World" and "Shake") are excellent. This shows a real growth from a less than stellar "You Send Me" on his earlier "Pain in My Heart" album released early in 1964.

Soul later succumbed to over orchestration as shown by the likes the Marvin Gaye album "What's Going On". There can be no doubt this album attempted to deal with the issues that existed under the waning star of the Civil Rights Movement. Otis Redding's third album demonstrates why that approach was folly. His throaty delivery adds new depth and dimension to classic soul tunes as well as pop standards. Readers are actively encouraged to pick up this album.

Hold the Fort...

Okay so it's been a hectic week. Union meetings, middle/high school/college friends visiting and me being forced to eat tofu and listen to academics wax polemical about the working class struggle. Seriously, the second time I met these people they were calling me their "good friend" and practicing the polite art of conversation while not saying a damn thing. The truth is that I can count my friends one two hands and my good friends on one hand. Incidentally one of them is now staying in Delta via the courtesy of the state. It was well that I had only two beers the whole evening or there might have been trouble.

Continuing quickly on the labor theme established last time I am faced with a personal quandary that I was berating a business rep. about this week. I freely acknowledge that the local wages, benefits, and conditions will most likely improve due the "merger" with Kansas City. Note that despite encompassing more than five states it's still "Kansas City District Council" even though Kansas City has half the population Denver has. My issues are with how Kansas City gets the job done. From my observations it seems to be a mix of old school Teamster's thuggery combined with some back wood colloquialisms. I was initially and remain unreconciled with the new order. Now admittedly the reason that I was reconciled with the old order was because it was a dying breed of non super councils. The irony of course that I was held up this week by the very same business rep. as a model union member.

This blog has struggled with trying to juggle personal/political/cultural posts. I have many drafts that have never been finished and left to collect cyber dust. Many of my posts are fairly amatuerish in nature, then again, so am I. I would like to tackle some of the issues raised by Pete Baker and Fintan O'Toole over on Slugger as a personal follow up on one of my earlier posts. Hopefully I'll be able to get to it this weekend, but fishing and tiling my parents house will have to come first.

Okay, talk to you all this weekend, hopefully.

I Washed My Face In The Morning Dew

Last week laying out an access panel in the governor's ceiling I was thinking about Malcolm's post awhile ago. I was also caught up in thinking about SS's post which I quoted in my last post. This kind of thing is nothing new to me. When I used to work nights on the highway I would infuriate the boom truck driver by getting lost in thought while we were hanging signs at the intersections (but he was an asshole so it was okay). It's odd that though regardless of whether I blog these thoughts they are still in my head (which is actually why I blog, to get them out). I was trying to explain to my grandma after I got posted on Slugger what it was all about. Her reply was to shake her head, wave her hands at and to tell me, "you think too much" (though she's right on that one).

The point being that while I'm extremely difficult to satisfy on one level (just ask my political director) I'm very easy to make happy. Such happiness was achieved this weekend after a visit to the future in-laws in Cripple Creek. A cold Budweiser in the can and a decent cigar go along way to making me a content man. Throw in my fiance, a nice fire and the natural beauty that is Colorado to do the rest. We all know that many song writers have written about the majestic beauty in the state here and here, not to mention songs of a more regional variety.

At times it is tempting to let it go at that but this weekend I was reminded of the absolutely astonishing and humbling beauty that is Colorado. After a thunderstorm I went out on the back porch to finish my beer and smoke my after dinner cigar. While standing under the awning I was near enough to the bird feeder to be able to reach and touch (had I had the urge to) the numerous humming birds that were fighting over who would get to feed at that particular bird feeder. I vacillated between staring at them and gazing at nothing in particular in the green aspen grove surrounding the house while enjoying the scent of a fresh rain.

Today as I drove back through town on the way home I was reminded of why "Misanthropy" is the leading word of this blog. It is not necessarily an H.L. Mencken misanthropy, but a latter day Joseph Roth misanthropy.

Recently a post over at Cedar Lounge brought me back to my roots so to speak. I was originally and will continue to be a labor man. So as I drove through Cripple Creek with that post fresh in my head it saddened me to see that casinos lined the streets and that the biggest event that weekend was the county fair (ie a 4H booster). Not that I have anything in particular against 4H, but anyone who has spent any amount of time shovelling bovine shit by the truck full will be necessarily wary of any kind of agrarian organization.

Actually what had set this train of thought off was a dinner for my aunt when we finally brought her pictures from my European trip in December/January (which actually gave me the title of this blog). One of the pictures was of the quotes on the James Larkin statue.

And Tyranny trampled them in Dublin's gutter

Until Jim Larkin came along and cried

The call of Freedom and the call of Pride

And Slavery crept to its hands and knees

And Nineteen Thirteen cheered from out the utter

Degradation of their miseries.

Now my aunt is not what I would call a pro-union person. This is because at the phone company (where my whole family worked) a union official told her she made too much money for a woman. At which point she moved virulently to the other end of the labor spectrum. Though after reading the quotes she was, never the less moved. I too was moved because truer words were never spoken. I remain firm in my belief that the cause of labor is the hope of humanity. This is in spite of today's unions and numerous "Labor" parties that exist throughout the world.

For us there must be more than Project Labor Agreements, wages, benefits and a good ole boy club to which we can join. There must be an over arching movement that seeks to raise the bar for humanity that we may all enjoy the fruits of liberty and freedom and dignity. Not in some shallow sense about donning a uniform and going over seas, but in our own homes and communities, where we have sunk our roots. This is cliche but true. This is the cause of labor, the elevation of men from expendable machines and cost codes into fully formed beings capable of not only seizing their destiny but of shaping the course of history through their determination not to be bought off or intimidated in their quest for a more just humanity. I'm ranting I know, but this is what motivates me to pay unions dues, not my wages or benefits (which suck thank you very much).

Well it's late and 4:00am will come all too shortly. For anyone more interested in the roots of my mania, I recommend as a starting point this piece as well as these various books. Again as a starting point.