Tannishblog

Was Jack Abramoff the linchpin of the Republican money machine? Dems and Repo’s alike tremble at the possibilities of association in a six-degrees from Jack paranoia game. NY Times quotes an un-named Democrat:

“We’re talking about people who have longstanding careers in Congress who took contributions from somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody who knew Jack Abramoff,” said a Democratic Congressional aide who insisted on anonymity so as not to drag his boss into the scandal. “Now they’re panicked. The hope is that this investigation will root out the wrongdoing without innocent people getting hit with the ricochet.”

Here’s a sample of the connections one can make: Tom DeLay, Ralph Reed, Grover G. Norquist, David H. Safavian, and who could forget Karl Rove. And that’s only the first tier!

Democrats, true to form and struggling for a clean image, trumpet Jack’s fall with holy abandon. Republicans mimick Alfred E. Neumann and shrug: “What Me Worry?” Given that the supreme court is being packed like sardines with like-minded scourges, they might be onto something. How could yet another indictment compare to the unholy troika of Iraq, Katrina, and the wholesaling of America to China?

Today’s Quote Of The Day in the Times blew up my bullshitometer:

“All of my remaining days, I will feel tremendous sadness and regret for my conduct and for what I have done.”

JACK A. ABRAMOFF, a Washington lobbyist, pleading guilty in a corruption case.

I’d be sorry for screwing up a consulting job that pays $750 and hour, too.

A lot of death in the news today: In Germany an ice rink collapsed; assassination attempts and a car bombing in Iraq; and fears of lost miners in Virginia, lost family in fire-ravaged plains states and in Californian torrents.

The weather is going haywire, too. Chicago, known for freezing winters, was a balmy 40 degrees today, the ground a soupy mess. California is declaring emergency action in response to unusual rainfall. Wildfires rampage the dry plains states, a phenomena I always associated with late summer or autumn, not January. We all know about our past hurricane season…

Bipolar politics adds a unique twist to this mess. Jack Abramoff cops a plea, now the dealmakers shudder as the Great Republican Greedmonger Show takes another hit. Democrats dream of impeachment proceedures. How long until Americans fight each other in the streets for their politics like in Iraq? Our lack-witted president says spying on Americans is necessary to safeguard our nation. I ask: from whom? Now that we breed terrorists in Iraq, and provide them with the anarchy needed to grow, why should they bother to come here? What we need protection from is ourselves. Who can provide that?

I scan the daily blues for an article of hope. Again, I find none. Wars, disasters, indictments… NY Times, Washington Post, CNN all spread the same dread, all repeat the same things, an echo chamber of diseased minds acting out, displaced people, and disturbing events. If I didn’t believe in the inherent goodness of people, I would despair.

My first day back to work ate my brain. Trying to post at IdoitSynchracies causes hicups and repeated postings. So I just kick back and have some fun at MyCatHatesYou dot com.

Happy freaking Monday (sigh)

I’ve fallen off the blog train lately. You’ve noticed. Web site traffic reports have reflected a slowdown; my three readers are wondering what’s up with me. My standing in the ecosphere has diminished somewhat, due to recent inactivity and the increasing staleness of the BBA, et al.

Most bloggers will attest motivation can falter sometimes. This is natural; we humans, infinitely flawed creatures, cannot sustain things indefinitely. A fermata is a musical construct, not a natural state. So, with the waning daylight, I find my blogging fading as well.

It’s time for a few rethinks, and for a casual look at continuity. Sparing you the boring details, I will now get back online and restart my blogging. Why do I do this? I don’t really know. Today the sunshine and the promise of a new year combine to recharge my batteries, tomorrow – who knows?

I’ve always wondered about the human proclivity for shouting into a void, as we bloggers do. The internet, in this metaphor, is the world’s largest Echo Canyon, from which I still hope to find another’s voice coming back: Maybe this year. So here I go, wishing all the obligatory wishes of a refreshed calendar, a healthy return to the grinding stone of daily ritual, and a vague, whispered promise for the betterment of human condition.

But then, I always was a dreamer.