... to albert hoffman, who turns 100 today.

thank you for sixty-three years of sunshine, oh great rider of bicycles into paradise. yes, thanks to your intrepid accident, sir, i am awake. i can't imagine my life without the gift of your magnificent discovery.

my eyes are open. all three of them.

so ... thank you, dr. hoffman. a splendid centennial to you!

***

give 'em hell, alito!

heh. iran has removed seals placed on its nuclear facilities by the iaea. to resume "research" for "electricity."

does iran need nuclear electric power? according to the cia world factbook, iran ranks as 25th in electricity production, out of a list of 214 countries. iran produces 129 billion kWh of electric juice, and consumes only 119.9 billion kWh a year (figures are from 2002).

so ... why does iran need nuclear power? and why is no one else asking this?

and netanyahu is already consolidating power in isarel.

last week iran began producing yellowcake.

seriously, folks. this year. maybe before spring.

i'm still smoking. still smoking less, but smoking.

i don't have a lot of time to write about it, but i saw munich last night, and folks, it is really, really good. it stuck with me all night, it's stuck in my head this morning.

i've read more about the actual munich massacre than about the israeli reprisal actions that the film focuses on (all accounts of which have been disputed), but the qualms a lot of critics seem to have revolve around the notion that the film's portrayal of them is not "accurate."

but it seems (to me, anyway) that speilberg wasn't going for accuracy so much as he was going for authenticity - and on that tip, he nailed it. it's a film about men who are asked to become assassins - and who accept. these aren't trained killers or soldiers; these are professionals with specific skills essential to their tasks, who decide to kill the killers of innocents.

they are also israeli jews, from families decimated by the holocaust, from the fledgling israeli state, under attack and fighting for its very existence since its inception. these are jews who saw what happened in munich and experienced the very human desire to seek wrathful vengeance; and when the opportunity to exact revenge was offered to them, they took it. they took it with moral and ethical qualms, to be sure, but they did the dirty work assigned to them and they did it well.

so maybe the real israeli assassins were more hardened killers; maybe there were very few ethical dilemmas as they murdered those who have sought to destroy them, their families, and their nation. maybe there was no demand that the operatives keep receipts ... maybe a lot of what was said and done in the film have their basis in speilberg's mind and not in reality.

so fucking what? this is a movie; imagine, if you will, that the characters, perhaps, represent the state of israel; israel DID and DOES and WILL ALWAYS have ethical dilemmas to deal with. throughout history, jews have wrestled with such questions as the justification of war, of murder, of massacre, of revenge. munich, and the "wrath of god" reprisals, while ushering in a new, global era of conflict between jews and their enemies, are just another bloody chapter in the long, beautiful and tortured history of the jewish people.

anyway, it's a very powerful film, especially for those who know that history, and those who have been watching events in the middle east for the past five, ten, twenty-five, fifty-eight years. munich was a turning point that got the world's attention, but neither side has managed to reach a satisfactory, peaceful resolution since; indeed, the violence has continued at a steady pace, and in the last five years has been reinvigorated by yet another palestinian intifada - and by the israeli response.

other than the world watching, what did the massacre accomplish? what did the reprisals accomplish? those are the questions that the film attempts to pose - but not to answer; answers are left up to the viewer.

but here's my question: what could america learn from the jews of israel? and are we learning it?

quick and dirty: geoffery rush is outstanding. the woman who plays the main character's wife is astonishingly beautiful, and her performance superb. all of the actors playing the assassins are fantastic - the characters are very well developed, and the actors see that this comes through on the screen.

and a note: the violence ... the film is sprinkled with violent scenes throughout, and while violence is certainly not the film's raison d'etre, squeamish viewers should be warned that when munich is violent, it is very, very violent ... and very, very real in its depiction of violence. there are disturbing, bloody images that are simply unforgettable, particularly those depicting the terrorist attack on the olympic village in munich - which are, according to my studies, quite accurate: the shit you see the terrorists do to the israeli olympic team in the film is what the terrorists did to the isreali olympic team in real life. it's not all they did, but what you see is real. and ... you won't forget it, but you very well may wish that you could.

my two cents on munich. i'd be interested in comments from others who see/have seen it.

i smoked again. i'm still smoking. but ... i am smoking less. a lot less. i have aquired a shitty chest cold, so that helps a bit with the willpower, but i've got to do this without crutches if i really want to put these damn things down.

well, i think i might employ the crutch of a nicotine patch. i hear different things about its effectiveness, but i'm pretty sure that i'm going to need something to get me over the shock and withdrawals and pretty, curling whisps of smoke i so dearly love to watch as they float away into nothing.

and the stress. stress, to my mind and body, is even more of a trigger for nicotine cravings than beer or whiskey. and i never seem to run out of things i consider stressful.

and rarely do i run out of beer or whiskey.

if anyone has a testimonial or comment about using a nicotine patch, please leave it here. it'll be interesting, and it might end up helping me quit (or to decide fuck it! gimme cancer!). or tell me at the bar. or on my couch. or on your couch. or on jaxxie's porch. just tell me.

anyway. i'm not giving up. not just yet. for now, i'm "tapering." i'm going to try to start the patch next week. this, if nothing else, will be something to blog about.

but i haven't been to a bar since new year's eve. this weekend - tonight - it is time to have a few nips. and with that - cigarettes. but, i hope, fewer of them.

wish me luck.

***

ariel sharon is out of the picture? if so, things could get very, very interesting (i.e. fiery, bloody) in the middle east. i'm anxious to see what happens if netanyahu is made prime minister of israel. and that appears to be somewhat probable.

i'm telling you - israel is going to strike iran, soon. this year. iran's making its own yellowcake ... that means weapons-grade uranium in a matter of weeks, folks. and word on the street is that they already have a delivery system - thanks, putin!

israel will not let this situation stand, and will react quickly and decisively if it progresses any further. it astonishes me that the u.n. and the e.u. seem to be content to sit back and let that happen (i'm not surprised in the least that the u.s. doesn't mind).

and the kicker? iran knows this. iran, it appears, wants an act of war against itself. an airstrike, sure. an invasion, even better. it's the holy war bin laden and al-quaida wanted. afghanistan, iraq, and now iran - the decisive, expansive, apocalyptic holy war to end all holy wars.

apparently, iranian president ahmadinejad wants it, too - his audacious (and reckless) defiance regarding nukes, his comments about israel being "wiped off the map," and his glee at the news of sharon's stroke ... it's not like this guy doesn't know what israel does when threatened or provoked. he's asking for it. because he wants it.

dumbasses. you don't vanquish the infidel by inviting him - and his extremely powerful and massive army - to invade your land. oh, i get it ... they think the infidel will expend too much energy and too many resources dispatching muslims into martyrdom, and will plunge into terror and fear when the blood starts to flow, leading ultimately to a catastrophic and fatal implosion of the armies - along with the economies, governments and societies - of the judeo-christian west.

they could be right - empires do tend to fall, eventually - but i doubt very seriously that our engagements in the middle east will destroy western civilization. either way, it's a stupid gamble for islamists to take, because no matter who wins the "holy war," the islamists - and their nations, cultures, people, families, children - lose.

because even if the western "empire" crumbles ... the land, the cities, indeed civilization itself in the middle east will be left utterly decimated, and unable to recover for decades, maybe centuries, maybe forever.

while a war-weary and economically depleted u.s. and europe may crawl away to lick their wounds, and while they may be forced to accept a new pan-islamic caliphate across the desertified wasteland of a ravaged and smoldering middle east and north africa ... there isn't a chance in hell of any islamic army conquering judeo-christian civilization in europe or america.

(ok, maybe in europe. western europe. ok, france. just in france, really. the rest would actually put up a fight).

so this is just another bloodletting. like most, unnecessary, tragic, and ultimately, absurd.

and, to me, sublime. i have to admit it. (like you couldn't tell ... )

but it ain't over. far from it, friends. far, far from it.

***

um, yeah. world tribune is reporting that sharon is dead. at 77. a veteran of every last war israel has fought against the invading armies of its neighbors ... and a couple in which israel did the invading. so, he was certainly not loved outside of israel.

the muslims of the middle east, i'm afraid, will come to miss ariel sharon in the coming months and years.

***

this makes me want a cigarette. i'm going to get a pepsi.

***

on a lighter, but still disapointing note:

boo on broke-down vans, the bane of modern southern culture, the obstacle to our enjoyment of the sound and the fury that is mattrock and the powerboxx. we missed you last night, friends. and although oxford is not a bad place to find oneself stuck, may your journey not be delayed any longer than you're cool with. may your van roll again, when you are ready to roll.

and may it roll our way. we'd still be glad to see you.

***

ok, i think i'm going to have a cigarette with that pepsi.

***

now sharon's not dead, but close to it. it's like when arafat died. slow, painful, convulsive.

***

it just snowed. for like, two minutes. it was pretty.

***

don't rent the united states of leland.

***

shit! lou rawls is dead at 72.

***

i should work now. leave me comments about your experiences with the patch.

i usually do not make new year's resolutions. this year, i did.

this year, i have decided that it is time for me to quit smoking. i have smoked for over thirteen years. and tobacco kills more americans than almost all other causes of death combined.

there are all manner of reasons i shouldn't smoke, but there is only one reason that ever sticks with a nicotine addict: i just don't want to anymore.

so. it's been about twelve hours since my last cigarette. and i was asleep for about eight of those hours. thus, it's very early in this test of fortified willpower ... of the ethereal vagaries of mind struggling to overcome the nagging concreteness of matter ... of a strange, new desire to live a longer, healthier life locked in mortal combat against a lifelong and familiar bent toward an epicureanism routinely taken to self-destructive extremes.

either i'll conquer this beast and leave it, smote and rotting, in the dust ... or i'll revert to a beady-eyed, clammy handed, shaky repetition of that well-familiar refrain:

can i bum a smoke?

and eventually ... camel lights in a box, please.

if i see you on a regular basis, help me in any way you can to confront, challenge, and slay this hideous monster that is nicotine addiction. and by "help me" i mean give me a fucking cigarette if i ask you for one.

thank you in advance for your cooperation and support.

in other news:

i got that new reigning sound live at goner records l.p. today when i returned to the office (it was delivered during the xmas holidays). it's lovely red marbled vinyl, very heavy stock (i'm guessing 180 grams) and has sixteen tracks.

of course, i have no turntable at the office, so i won't hear it until i get home - and i'm itchin' like a careless whore to hear this slab o' plastic. but at six o'clock this evening, jacktown's own melrose place is going to get blasted by a big, nasty dose of cartwright and company. i'm gonna shake the foundations, babies! here comes memphis!

you can come park in the driveway out front and have a listen if you want. or, you know, you can come over and knock on my door. just think: it'll be even louder inside.

but i've got to pick up annie stitches from the aeropuerto at just after seven, so it'll be a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of listening party. we'll get all electrified with the sound - and then we'll wander off separately into the city, with our respective buzzes humming nicely.

"love ... is a funny thing"

oh, and happy holidays, bitches.

i have no real excuse for neglecting you, dear reader, for the last several weeks. there has been much that i have wanted to share with you, but in the last month i've always found a reason not to sit down and post something.

so i moved; i've been in the new place for a month now. and i love it. i had a fantastic house-warming party a couple of weeks ago, a small affair, but a successful one. the place was christened by the vapors of alcohol breath and cigarette smoke, and before the night was through furniture had been moved to make room for prostrate arm wrestling contests (as always, instigated by the diplomat). i still have a few things to iron out - i need to get my new couch from my folks, i need to get rid of my old bed, i need a dining table and chairs - but i'm in and it's proving to be a very satisfactory place to live and host.

thanksgiving was sure weird, wasn't it? jacktown folks know what i'm talking about. where the fuck was everybody? i don't know if a lot of folks decided not to come home, or if they came home and hearing about the demise of martin's left them all jaded and surly, but aside from a handful of returning jacksonites (all of whom, to be sure, were a pleasure to see), the bars were populated mostly with underage kids taking advantage of having two days off from school. besides that, my family's thanksgiving was surreal ... i showed up at my uncle's house in dinsmore thursday afternoon with the intention of making the rounds and saying hello, eating like an elephant, then cutting out. after the second kid burst into hysterical tears, i had to have a beer; because it took so long for the food to be ready, it was the first of many. so i got really drunk with my family ... they were all drunk, too, though, so it isn't like i had to act like i wasn't getting plastered. this is my new orleans family; they know how to have a good time, of course, and this year they were all the more liberal with the spirits because most of them had at least some damage from katrina. my cousin martha and her husband lost their house altogether. all of it, and everything in it. gone.

what else? the operation shoestring benefit at hal and mal's last week was really good; if you missed it, you missed an outstanding performance from bobby rush and carey hudson. i went to give my money to operation shoestring and to see bobby rush and his infamous "talkin' to the booty" schtick, but right after i gave the door ladies my money, i was informed that mr. rush didn't have his butt dancers with him this time. so i'm thinking, dude, this is gonna suck. does bobby rush actually have any talent? what the fuck is he gonna do, point his mic at the butts of women in the crowd? so field marshal elvin, the diplomat, animal, animal's cousin shorty and i grabbed a table in front of the stage and awaited whatever was coming.

bobby rush was on stage tuning a stratocaster, and next to him was carey hudson, tuning a hollow-body les paul. i thought this was kind of odd - why would two performers be tuning up at the same time? and then, of course, it hit me: they're going to play together, ace. suddenly, the universe came into a unique alignment and things began to make sense.

i was floored. i knew carey hudson was never a disappointment, but i had no idea that bobby rush could actually play the fuck out of some guitfiddle ... or that his voice is one that sings the real, old blues with fidelity and whatever they substitute for grace up in the delta. stripped down, quiet, but bursting with energy, bobby rush pulled off a performance on par with the greatest of mississippi blues players down through the years. carey hudson, a remarkable performer in his own right, took a backseat and let bobby shine - and when bobby thought carey was getting too flashy, he shushed him and pointed at himself: "just me now. quiet." and carey would chill out, in deferential humility.

it was a night that the yankee yellow journalist eric lipton could never appreciate: mississippi unbound, a heritage that gets its glory from its misery, in which we bask with melancholic joy.

inspired by a contest between d-trane and animal over who could write the better short story (they both wrote stories, in the span of only two weeks, and i hear they are pretty damn good), i have decided to give fiction a go again, and am writing a story of my own. the diplomat may be joining in on this as well. the idea is to have deadlines and a critiquing audience to aid in the development of our writing discipline and skills. and eventually, hopefully, we'll be able to get enough people and material together to publish a small-scale literary zine or journal featuring all local unpublished writers. if you want to get involved in this, contact me or one of the super cool awesome people mentioned above. but beware: if you suck, we'll tell you.

quickly: i found my box of books on the eastern front. it was in the room with all the other boxes. somehow i overlooked it at least five times. stupid.

i pre-ordered the new reigning sound record, on limited edition colored vinyl. greg cartwright is one bad motherfucker.

there is something truly remarkable and exhilirating happening in my little universe right now. and that's all i'm going to say about that.

i want this for x-mas, if anyone is wondering what to get me.

camp-o-rama III gets underway tonight - overnight lows are forecast to be in the mid-20s. so, i might die. props to team andershelt for arranging and hosting again. my vow: that fire ain't goin' out ... it's burnin' all weekend long.

play with this. mad props to jaxx and all the other contributors.

i'll be back next week to bitch about stuff.