Monday, March 31, 2003

It's Badgerrific! Nar nar nar nar.

Neutral Man, the Flying Dutchman, and I have been talking about moving out of ol' 1213. It's coming soon, you know, the end of April. Wow, I've lived in this house for three full years. Where did the time go? I can barely remember moving in, it almost seems as if I've always lived here. I remember living in West Quad and 606 (Mary Court, with Saturday Night, Boof Daddy, and Justin [I will NOT call him J-Dawg] as housemates: Best. House. Ever.), but in my mind's eye those memories look like a movie. It's all seen through a camera, not my own eyes. But I remember making spagetti for From Russia With Love, and hearing SNL and Boof getting ready for football games (they were both in the Michigan Marching Band) on Saturday mornings, and Friday nights watching anime while everyone else went out. Those were such great days.... But 1213 just feels so much more real. Living here with people I didn't like, but merely tolerated, like Captain Obvious, the Mouse, and the rest of the Idiot Brigade. Befriending and then learning to hate Alber. Blowing my chance with a girl named Hell-ya. Meeting Lindsay. The living room, where we met; playing "You Don't Know Jack" in Alber's room and I would have sworn I saw something in her eyes; the hug on the stairs; the parking lot, site of so many football parking antics, and also where she broke me heart; listening to El Grande Braino and his girlfriend have sex upstairs, the two of us talking, me in the bed and Linz on the couch. Three years, a hell of a lot out of twenty-three. Three damn years in this shithole, but it wasn't so bad. No, it really wasn't so bad. Eddie the Bat, the kegerator, the band, my toilet which always, always backs up; I love this fucking place. Maybe familiarity and love really are the same thing, I don't know, but I'm going to really miss this shithole.

I've been thinking about compiling some kind of list of all the girls I've liked. Just some minor biographical details, mostly concerning at what point in my life I liked each of them. I haven't made up my mind about how much to say, however, so for now all you get is a list of pseudonyms. A.H., Skeeter, Mrs. Blinky, the Coxswain, Psycho Hose Beast, From Russia With Love, Hell-ya, Q-Girl, and Lindsay, omnipresent in my thoughts. (Oddly enough, the two with whom I got farthest were the two whom I liked least, Psycho Hose beast and Q-Girl.) I see Hell-ya every so often at work, and she is still an absolutely gorgeous creature. In the right cultural context, she'd be a dame to kill for, a face for which to launch a thousand ships. My correspondence with From Russia With Love is now and always has been sporadic, but I should remedy that.

Hmmm, now to (maybe) engage in a little of the old internet commerce, maybe pick up a few old issues of Sandman Mystery Theatre.

Sunday, March 30, 2003

True power is being able to force a man to fight a badger. "You have displeased me! Guards! Make this man fight a badger!" I don't know if his life hangs in the balance, but how do you ever live down having to fight a badger? Nar nar nar nar. (<--The noise badgers make!)

Thursday, March 27, 2003

Coincidence or Not? The last two girls I've gone out with share two similarities: both had French last names (Psycho Hose Beast = LaVoie, Q-Girl = Chappell) and both were exceedingly fat. I must make a note to red flag both of those things as dire warning signs. Note to self: at all costs, avoid obese girls with French-sounding family names.

On the other hand, the last two girls I really liked (I liked each of them far more than either girl I actually went out with) both had very British last names (Hell-ya = Hale, Lindsay = Shaw). Excellent. Mere coincidence, perhaps? Perhaps. But in the words of plain, simple Garak, "I believe in coincidence. Coincidences happen every day. But I don't trust coincidence."

Wednesday, March 26, 2003

I must ask a favor of Queen Skeeter. Your Majesty, please grant me leave to make war upon the demon who plagues you. Sign a letter of marque and I will rain fury upon his miserable head such as he has never known. I will not suffer these games to be played at the expense of a dear friend. Let me destroy him.

Tuesday, March 25, 2003

Fun With Formality!
America - the United States of America
Great Britain - the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland
Canada - the Dominion of Canada*
Japan - Japan**
China - the People's Republic of China
Germany - the Federal Republic of Germany
(West Germany - the Federal Republic of Germany)
(East Germany - the German Democratic Republic)
France - the French Republic
Israel - the State of Israel
Russia - the Russian Federation
(the Soviet Union - the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics)
South Korea - the Republic of Korea
North Korea - the Democratic People's Republic of Korea
Taiwan - the Republic of China
Australia - the Commonwealth of Australia

*The Canadians insist that they are no longer a Dominion (a self-governing part of the British Empire), but as long as Her Majesty Elizabeth II is also the Queen of Canada, which she is, they remain the Dominion of Canada, est. 1867.
**There is no formal name for Japan. I mean, the dynasty of the Emperor has been unbroken for 2500 years, but the Empire of Japan died in the ashes of Fat Man and Little Boy and the country has never been formally renamed.
Exhibit A The Zodiac Killer, who terrorized the Bay Area during the late 1960s and early 1970s, was never caught. He used to write to the police at length about his crimes. (Among the many things wrong with Zodiac, he gave himself that nickname. Dude, you can't give yourself a nickname.) Now, how did he choose his victims? Apparently, at random. The first few were all couples in isolated areas, couples going to some or another kind of "Makeout Point." One could suppose that those particular couples were bothering him, and that's why he chose them. They were in a place where he didn't want them to be, doing things he didn't want them to do. He killed them in response to something they'd done.

Exhibit B Japan is an island nation. After the United States forced Japan to open up to international trade (a gold star for whomever can tell me the year without looking it up), the Japanese embarked upon a rapid and frighteningly efficient process of modernization. (For more information, look up the Meiji Restoration.) The Japanese did this to resist the imperialist domination that had befallen so many other parts of Asia. However, as I said before, Japan is an island nation, and poor in natural resources. So, in order to stand on their own two feet, the Japanese needed more resources. In the Sino-Japanese War of 1895, Japan seized Korea and Taiwan from Imperial China. In 1931, Japan seized Manchuria, declaring it the puppet state of Manchukuo. In 1937, they invaded China proper, setting off a series of events that culminated in Pearl Harbor, Iwo Jima, and Hiroshima/Nagasaki. The Chinese had resources the Japanese wanted. So, the Japanese took what they wanted, killing any Chinese they had to in order to do it.

Thus My well-meaning but terribly misguided friend SNL asks, "But don't you think terrorists often act, at least in some part, because of American policies?" By that logic, the Zodiac Killer acted, at least in some part, because he didn't like his victims. By your logic, Scott, the Japanese acted, at least in some part, because the Chinese wouldn't give them what they wanted. Yes, terrorists do act, at least in some part, because of American policies. That does not mean we are not blameless. To give you another example, Timothy McVeigh murdered 168 people in Oklahoma City because he opposed the federal government. To say that al Qaeda is just reacting to American policy is to say that McVeigh's victims were responsible for their own murders; after all, most of them worked for the federal government that he so hated.

And now, because it is never a bad time to shine the light of knowledge into the darkness of ignorance, I give you the most famous words of George Santayana: "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it."

Monday, March 24, 2003

This morning, I saw both Prime Minister Blair and his opposite number Iain Duncan Smith offer their reasons for supporting the war in Iraq. It is a wondrous world in which we live, that in the same minute one can see a live debate inside Whitehall and the battlefield of the very war they are debating. What a time to be alive.

I would submit that the United States, with assistance from the United Nations, will do a fine job of rebuilding Iraq into a functioning member of the world community. I offer as my examples of successful nation-building Germany, Japan, and South Korea. Earlier today, a friend cited Iraq's non-industrialization as a nullifying difference between it and my examples. This is a valid point of discussion. However, I offer another explanation as to why we successfully rebuilt the three states cited above and why we will successfully rebuild Iraq: it was and is in our strategic interest to do so. A liberalized and remilitarized West Germany was the lynchpin of Anglo-American (later manifest as NATO) resistance to Soviet hegemony. By the 1970s, the West German Bundeswehr (army) was the second-largest in NATO, and would have been crucial to the defeat of any Societ aggression. A liberalized and economically powerful Japan was the key to resisting Sino-Soviet encirclement, and provided a secure base of operations for the stablizing Amercan military presence (ironic, I know, given Vietnam, but the Seventh Fleet really has generally kept the peace, especially in containing Chinese adventurism). The first of the Asian "tiger economies," a rich, militarized, and eventually democratic South Korea was the key to defending Japan. American strategic interests, sustained American attention.

The Middle East is one long, rolling disaster. The only democratic states in the entire region are Israel, which is hated by every other state in the area, and Turkey. Turkey is, unfortunately, neither Arab nor terribly rich. Iraq, however, Iraq is a goldmine. Iraq has potentially the world's second-largest reserves of petroleum. An oil-rich, pro-Western, and someday democratic Iraq would serve as a moderating influence on the entire region. It could exert considerable pressure on the Palestinians, help Iran through the difficult process of transition once its young populous finally turns on their masters and tears down the Islamic Republic, and remove American dependence on the corrupt House of Saud as our chief ally in the region. A strong and liberal Iraq, like Germany, Japan, and South Korea before it, would be a great asset to American security and foreign policy. That is why I believe we will be necessarily committed to the successful rebuilding of Iraq.
I caught a glimpse of The Ataris on MTV last night. Aw, crap. Okay, it's too late to keep MTV from getting their claws into them; so, now all I can do is hope against hope that The Ataris emerge from this unscathed. Possibly the best line ever written about love by any band ever, The Ataris, "The Last Song I Will Ever Write About a Girl" from Blue Skies, Broken Hearts... Next 12 Exits: "Girls are fucking evil!"

The second season of DS9 arrived this morning. I'm going to be cloistered in my room from "The Homecoming" through "The Jem'Hadar."

Sunday, March 23, 2003

Last night, I saw a play entitled June 3-4, 1989. Though it needs a new title, it was very powerful, moreso since almost all the players were Mandarin speakers, visiting students and the children of immigrants. I was nine years-old at the time of the Tiananmen Square Massacre, the summer I turned ten. No matter what I learn about the PRC or how many times I visit the mainland (I've decided that I have to at least visit China before the decade's end), China will never escape the shadow of Tiananmen. Everything I know passes, to one degree or another, through that blood-soaked filter.

Put a lot of thought today into Mike Nordstrom, the champion of Ironsburgh and protege of The Spade in Empire City. Refined his "powers," and cleared up a lot of my own confusion about how such an average Joe came to possess and command a (possibly extradimensional) Martian Deimos-type Planetary Annihilator. His "codename" was Challenger, but now I'm considering a number of alternatives, none of them quite satisfactory. Yet.

Tiananmen Square and my own comic book ideas in the same post. The beautiful intersection of the sacred and the absurd, or am I simply hopelessly random?

"You're spending the night with me... Fred Garvin: Male Prostitute." I need a girl, but a better girl than my last one.

Friday, March 21, 2003

I apologize.
I think my examples are too obscure. For instance, how many of my readers have heard of Arbenz? How many could point out Guatamala on a map with no names? On the other hand, I refuse to lower the level of the discourse. I just won't. Here's a hint: 1954.

Dad gave me leave to preorder the rest of Deep Space Nine with his credit card; so, a few moments ago I did. Too cool. I think I'll ask for the fourth season (August 12) as a birthday present and the seventh season (December 8) as a Christmas gift. (The idea is not mine, I stole it from the Mountain.) Since I won't have a stable address between now and the end of the year, I'm having them all shipped home. Dad will have to ship them from home to wherever I am, but that is a reasonable price for being able to buy them all now and paying Dad back in installments. When he's being nice, my dad is a really generous individual. But then Mr. Hyde comes out to play and it is all too easy to forget the kindnesses of Dr. Jekyll. Such a horribly conflicted man... and in ever so many ways I am frighteningly like him.

I hate hippies; so, I'm actually glad they're rioting in San Francisco, showing their true colors. I do feel a great sympathy for the normal citizens of that beautiful city, held hostage by the very vagabonds they thought made their town so special. Those whom gods destroy they first make proud.
I've got Reel Big Fish in my headphones, my Bosstones softball shirt on, and, downstairs, the Donald Rumsfeld War Machine live on TV; what a time to be alive.

Good news, everyone, according to Saturday Night Latham, terrorists are going to receive a huge surge in "recuritment" due to the war in Iraq. By implication, then, he is saying that all terrorist attacks are caused by us; the terrorists are not responsible, they are just responding to American policies. Huh, that's quite a theory. Truly amazing, just eighteen months after 9/11, and we've already gone back to the idiotic mentalities that allowed that attack to happen in the first place. God bless the American people, fools that they are.

Also, SNL, you'll be pleased to know that just yesterday, good ol' Ari said that France was a long time ally of the United States and had been a great help in the war on terror. But that doesn't mean they dictate American foreign policy. You may want to cede our national sovereignty to the United Nations, but unfortunately there is a little thing called the Constitution that prohibits that.

Linz sez I need to start watching Six Feet Under because I like Peter Krause. True, I do feel a great affection for the man's work as Casey McCall on Sports Night, but on the other hand I hate HBO. Hmmm, quite the conundrum.
The problem ("the" problem, as if it's the only one) with people is that they are morons. They say this and that and make all manner of outrageous claims, yet they do not understand the necessity of supporting any of those claims with evidence. It is not, I'm afraid, enough to state your case; just because you say it does not make it so. To wit, the United States and nation-building. In the 2000 presidential race, I was horrified when then-Governor Bush said he did not believe it was the duty of the U.S. to engage in global nation-building. Happily, it appears that the president has learned the folly of his former belief (to paraphrase both Howard Cosell and Mitch Albom, "Keep your eyes open long enough and you might change your mind").

That which has raised my ire: the assertion that after we have toppled Saddam Hussein's dictatorship, the United States will not engage in the kind of nation-building necessary to make Iraq a strong, self-sustaining country. The United States, the United Kingdom, and the "Coalition of the Willing" are, as I type, dismantling the regime of the Ba'th Party through a massive coordinated attack by land, sea, and air forces. Regime change through invasion, not CIA machinations; thus, I would submit, this action more closely resembles the destructions of the Nazi regime in Germany and the Bushido cult in Japan, and the repulsion of the North Korean invasion of the South, than it does the secret overthrow of Arbenz in Guatamala or the installation of Pinochet in Chile. If you disagree, bring forth your evidence.

Also, life in post-Taliban Afghanistan is far from perfect, but it is a damned sight better than it was under the Taliban. For those who believe we should be reforming Afghan life overnight, I would submit to you that a) in doing so we would be engaging in the sort of imperialism generally deemed immoral since the end of the Second World War and b) we should first consult the Soviet Union to see how well its attempt to do just that worked in the 1980s. The Afghans are a proud, stubborn people. Try to force anything down their throats and they will very likely slit yours.

Thursday, March 20, 2003

Knowledge is not, in itself, power. Knowledge is a weapon. For me, it is a weapon I use to cut down those who would dare disagree with me.
I would remind my friend Saturday Night Latham that although Ted Williams was a Marine, serving in both the Second World War and Korea, we still had the World Series during both those conflicts. Not to be overly melodramatic, but one of the things our legions are fighting for is the right of every American to sit back on his fat can, in safety and security, and watch the road to the Final Four.

When is the next Starman trade paperback going to come out? I have issues nos. 0-53 as the trade paperbacks Sins of the Father, Night and Day, A Wicked Inclination..., Times Past, Infernal Devices, To Reach the Stars, and A Starry Knight and nos. 61-80, the glorious finale, as individual issues. All I need is that one last collection to fill in the gap between the end of Jack's* trek through the stars and the epic battle of the "Grand Guignol" storyline. Starman, my friends, was not just another superhero comic book. It was a true novel in pictures complete with, since it was still a comic book, the occasional cameo by Batman and Superman. I would recommend it to everyone, especially those who enjoy books but don't read comics.

*The most recent Starman was Jack Knight, son of Ted Knight, the original Starman. Jack never wanted to be Starman, but through a series of adventures, meeting with both triumph and defeat, he came to embrace the legacy and finally understand his father. But, in the end, being Starman didn't define him as a person, and Jack laid down the cosmic rod in order to be with the woman he loved and raise his son, Teddy. He passed on the rod to Courtney Whitmore (a.k.a. The Star-Spangled Kid) whose destiny has yet to be written, and drove off into the sunset.

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

The post that was supposed to be here was lost. I hope Google can improve things around here, since Ev and his cronies are flaming morons.

Tuesday, March 18, 2003

As a little boy I was raised on war. G.I. Joe's (a real American hero) struggle against Cobra (a ruthless terrorist organization determined to rule the world), Autobots versus Decepticons, Voltron's endless battle, He-Man's defense of Eternia and the Thundercats' of Thundara. My father never served in the military and, as he was of military age during Vietnam, was very glad for that fact. Both my grandfathers, may they rest in peace, did, but neither ever talked about it. Grandpa Little was an infantryman in the Pacific. He was an ordinary man who witnessed and carried out unspeakable deeds; I cannot blame him for not desiring to walk down that particular sidestreet of Memory Lane. I have never had a serious desire to serve in the military. I have always said this is because I do not believe I would respond well to the discipline (which is true), but secretly I suspect it is because I am a coward. I wish to neither kill nor die for my country, love it dearly though I do. Yet despite my own cowardice, and in a nation with an all volunteer military all of us who do not serve are cowards, I have always favored and argued for an adventurous and interventionalist foreign policy. On Wednesday night, the policy I have always desired will be put into effect in the skies over Iraq. Right and proper though it may be, it is a terrible thing to send men into battle against each other. To temper my boyish enthusiasm for war, I find it invaluable to turn to the timeless wisdom of Wilfred Owen. I highly suggest that each and every one of you read his masterpiece, "Dulce Et Decorum Est." Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.

Another piece of wisdom to contemplate (from, I believe, Cicero): Inter arma enim silent legis.

Monday, March 17, 2003

I Fucking Hate St. Paddy's Day.
My name is Michael Patrick Wilson. I may be only a quarter Irish, but I'm Catholic and that comes entirely from my 100% Mick Grandma Little (maiden name: Phalan). Plus, my name is Michael Patrick; so, I've always been more Irish than either my brother or sister. I fucking hate "Plastic Hat Irish Day" (thanks to Skeeter's roommate for the name). If you like St. Paddy's Day, you can go fuck yourself.

The ultimate American expression of St. Paddy's Day came from that vapid whore SSG, who as she sipped a Coors which had been dyed green said, "I wish I was Irish." You fucking cunt, what does drinking dyed-green American piss-water have to do with being Irish! There is more to being Irish than drinking beer, and even if there wasn't it wouldn't mean drinking that weak shite! Drink a Guinness or a Harp or a Caffrey's for Pete's sake!

Also, the symbol for Ireland isn't a fucking shamrock, you bastards, it's a harp.

Last but not least, St. Patrick is the patron saint of Ireland. A Catholic saint. What the hell are all you Orange Protestant wankers doing celebrating the feast day of a Roman Catholic saint? It's Saint Patrick's Day, so piss off if you aren't Catholic.

That's all for me. In the words of Clover Connelly, "Fek aff, I'm Irish!" Erin Go Bragh!

Sunday, March 16, 2003

Crocadylus pontifex "Is the Space Pope reptilian?" Bwa ha ha ha!

Animania politics! Neither El Presidente nor Snarky, two of my closest allies in the club, are at all fond of Q-Girl. Therefore, I was pleasantly surprised that neither of them gave me a hard time about our brief "relationship." Sweet! And, as always, Snarky was ready and willing to expound upon the greatness of all things Alan Moore. I'm going to miss those guys.

Saturday, March 15, 2003

Oh, for fuck's sake! I was going to use today's Animania screening to "break up" with Q-Girl, but she's sick as a dog so she isn't even here. And I can't break up with her until she feels better. Damn it! She called me last night to tell me she was sick and, since she's the club treasurer, fill me in on a few things I have to do because she's not here (I'm the club vice president). Of course, when she called she was also checking her email. Gah, have you no manners? I can hear you typing! Geez Louise, I thought that was tremendously tacky. And on top of all that, she interrupted me while I was watching Generations, which is a far better film than I had remembered.

On that note, the Star Trek films, in descending order of quality: Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, Star Trek: First Contact, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, Star Trek Generations, Star Trek III: The Search For Spock, (here is the dividing line between good and bad) Star Trek: Nemesis, Star Trek: Insurrection, Star Trek: The Motion Picture, and Star Trek V: The Final Frontier.

To those of you who favor deferring to our allies regarding Iraq: Remember 1992, 1993, 1994, and 1995? During those years, the former Yugoslavia (specfically the republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina) was racked by turmoil, civil war, and genocide. The solution put forward by our European allies was to allow diplomatic pressure to stop the violence. The European nations would put pressure on Serbia, which in turn would rein in the Bosnian Serbs who were terrorizing and slaughtering their Bosnian Muslim neighbors. The European diplomatic effort worked really well, so well in fact that tens of thousands died in campaigns of ethnic cleansing while hundreds of thousands more were forced to flee their homes. The killing didn't stop until NATO - without any "authorization" from the United Nations - used military power and the threat of U.S. ground forces to impose a peace. NATO peacekeepers have been on the ground ever since, but at least the bloodshed has stopped. Sometimes, war is a necessary evil, and the only way to do the right thing.

Friday, March 14, 2003

Hey, kids, get hip to what you're missing: Blue Monday rules! Make no mistake, most of the comic books I read are of the superhero variety. I'm a DC Comics kid and love their pantheon of icons: Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Aquaman; superteams like the JLA and JSA; and weird niche ideas like the Suicide Squad, the Doom Patrol, and Dial H for Hero (currently resurrected with a smashing debut as H-E-R-O). At the same time, there is absolutely nothing better than the innocent teenaged hijinks of the Blue Monday gang. Bleu's crush on Mr. Bishop, Clover's tough girl vulnerability, Alan and Victor's irrepressable pervertion, Bleu's stalking of Adam Ant. Good times, good times.

You look really pretty today.

No offense to Skeeter's boytoy e, but gymnasts are jerks. Their practice area is in the same facility in which we conduct intramural mini-soccer. Yesterday, a ball accidentally sailed over the partition. I went over there and was exquisitely polite in my efforts to retrive it. Those snobby bastards eventually let me come in and look around for the ball (they knew where it was the whole time), but not before giving me the cold shoulder and a ton of attitude. Listen, you cocks, it isn't my fault that you guys feel inferior for being short! You're incredible athletes, get the fuck over this Napoloen shit! Pansies.
Based purely upon frequency of blogging, I think the Squirrel King is dead. (No, I haven't been online the whole time since my last post. I took a break to watch Inuyasha. And then I wrote a long email to The Watergirl. I've only been online most of the time since my last post. I love how much TV I watch; I'm such a happy slug.)
Ethan "Bubblegum" Tate, Sweet Clyde, Curly Joe... the Globetrotter episode of Futurama is just about the best episode ever. Hee hee.

I keep listening to Elvis's (Costello, not Presley) "No Action," as I think it has significance relevent to my decision regarding Q-Girl. Were I to ever use a psuedonym, it would definitely be Declan MacManus. Lindsay was annoyed that I didn't call her last night to tell her Elvis was hosting The Late Show, but then I reminded her that she was at the opera and couldn't have seen it anyway. That's all the Elvis-related news for today.

I think I need to be more malevolent. Or at least use the word malevolent more often. It's a fantastic word.

Thursday, March 13, 2003

Neville, dreadful recession is what happens when a bubble bursts. Silicon Valley is a victim of its own hubris. It's unfortunate that so many people are out of work, but that's what happens when overvalued businesses run headlong into the immovable wall of reality. Consider the example of Flint, Michigan. Flint was a one horse town; that horse was the auto industry, specifically General Motors. With GM largely gone, Flint is now largely dead. There's a lesson in there, I'm sure, a lesson about not putting all of your economic eggs in one basket.

Rereading some old issues of Green Lantern, I'm reminded of how much I miss the real Kyle Rayner. Yeah, I know he's a fictional person, but I still miss the fictional person he used to be. Under his current writer's reign of terror, he has become unrecognizable. I miss his old up-and-coming archenemy Effigy, too; way better than the poor man's Sinestro he tangles with these days. Sigh. Even if the future isn't very bright (I'm unfamiliar with the incoming writer's work), at least the current hack will be gone soon. And bring back Kyle's original costume, dammit!

The Evil Princess will be back in Michigan sometime in the next couple of days! Huzzah!
Elvis Costello guest hosted The Late Show tonight. That was odd. So, of course now I'm listening to This Year's Model.

Linz called tonight while I was at work. We've been playing phone tag for so long that I haven't spoken to her in nearly a month. I miss her. Not the way I normally miss her, I miss the way we used to talk at least every week, often twice. This past Summer, she was new to Berkeley and had few friends. I told her she'd forget me as soon as she got a life. She called me silly. I hate it when I'm right. (Note the irony: she called me tonight; so, clearly she hasn't forgotten about me. By Lucifer's beard, I'm retarded sometimes.)

"Red dragon tattoo
Is just about on me
I got it for you
So now do you want me?
With nothing to prove
Will you be my honey? Oh yeah
In you I confide
Red dragon tattoo
I'm fit to be dyed
Am I fit to have you?"
(I wore my Fountains of Wayne T-shirt today; so, I was thinking about that before Lindsay called.)

Today's grand prize (you don't actually win anything) goes to Hello Sarah for getting in on the ground floor vis-a-vis ending my fledgling relationship with Q-Girl. I'm looking for a reason not to say, "I don't think we should see each other anymore," but I seriously doubt I'll find it. I worked it all out in my journal Tuesday night. Does being with her make me happier? No, not really. And that, I suppose, is that. The only reason I can see to be with her is that she lets me touch her, but I'm not that guy. It's not that I refuse to be him, it's that I'm really not that guy. I wouldn't know how to be him even if that's what I wanted. (I don't know if this has any significance, but I feel it is at least worth mentioning. At no point has Lindsay entered into the calculus of this experiment. This is about me not being terribly fond of Q-Girl.)

Way back when I first found out that Lindsay had a boyfriend (three months into the realtionship...), I looked around to see what my dating options were. I selected three candidates and designated them Bachelorettes Nos. 1, 2, and 3. Bachelorette No. 3 was revealed as a racist, and then as a crazy girl: NO. Bachelorette No. 1 became Q-Girl, and you've just read how that went: NO. Bachelorette No. 2, the most physically attractive of the three, is a Trekkie. However, her favorite show is Star Trek: Voyager: a thousand times NO. Back to square one, folks, and all the while Jake's been merrily fucking Lindsay.

And with that, "Radio, Radio."

Wednesday, March 12, 2003

Two thoughts: first, I need to own more Johnny Cash. I've taped a few songs, using as my source Che's tapes from when I worked at Red Hot Lovers (man, I loved that place), but I need a lot more material to be able to decide if he's a fucking genius or just really good. Second, lately I've been thinking a lot about the Flaming Lips and possibly dropping some bread on their CD Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. Yes, mostly because of the title.

Naomi Watts is on the cover of Esquire. I need a girl like that.

Right now, I'm IMing with Q-Girl. We're "arguing" about whether or not dogs suck. I cannot even begin to put into words how much this is not the conversation I want to be having right now.

Tuesday, March 11, 2003

Everybody sez that it's okay to go out with Q-Girl; it's fine to see a girl without really being emotionaly invested in her. Something about that just doesn't sit right with me. This is just a small-scale, kill-some-time relationship, but I think what's bothering me is that I'm disappointed in myself. I feel like I'm settling, even though I know with absolute certainty that this relationship will come to a definite end, at the very latest, when I move. I think she likes me a lot more than I like her, but that's not what's bothering me; I'm not exactly sure why, I'm just vaguely disappointed with myself.

Monday, March 10, 2003

From Chuck Palahniuk's Invisible Monsters: "When did the future go from being a promise to a threat?" Also, from Choke, I'm in love with Paige Marshall. (If you've read Choke, you know how wrong that is.)

Right now I'm reading three books: A Clockwork Orange, which Zach Nie! loaned to me unrequested; Warriors Don't Cry, on requested loan from the Flying Dutchman; and The Oxford Illustrated History of Modern War, which I brought from home. That is my book, not one of Dad's. Zach kept my Green Arrows for a really long time; consequently, I feel no pressure to get the book back to him anytime soon. Plus, I truly hated the movie; so, it's been hard for me to get into the book. After these three, I have to read Joseph Heller's Something Happened and the anthology The China Reader: The Reform Era. Dry, but informative. And Chuck Palahniuk's Lullaby as soon as it comes out in paperback. So, a novel, a recounting of the civil rights movement, an anthology about modern war, a novel, the workings of the modern Middle Kingdom, and a novel. Maybe I read too many novels? Nah. The China Reader is interesting, but I need novels to break up the monotony.

I bought two GCAS shirts; so, basically, I can wear one all the time. Sweet!

The current Guster crew: the Bald Mountain, The Watergirl, Neutral Man, and me.
A Few Notes on the War
Saturday Night Latham's statement that the U.S. is currently experiencing "record levels of unemployment" (March 6) is false. It's completely false. The current recession isn't as severe as the recession of 1981-82 nor the stagflationary era of the late 1970s. I feel Saturday Night's being influenced by his own unemployment; I have to believe this, as he is not an idiot and yet the above statement isn't even a little true.

Saturday Night also wants to know why the U.S. is going ahead in Iraq without our allies France, Russia, and Germany. Because, Scottie, is we listened to them, there wouldn't be any weapons inspectors in Iraq at all. Also, Russia isn't really a U.S. ally; while we are strategic partners and cooperate on many issues, one must remember that they have vehemently opposed the expansion of NATO into Eastern Europe. France is not even a full member of NATO; in 1966, France militarily withdrew from NATO. So, please don't buy into France's argument that they have always believed in collective security. And Germany? Well, the Germans know all about not stopping a genocidal dictator until it is too late.

The upcoming "The Last Angry Man" column in The Newsletter will no longer we titled "Marching on Baghdad," but rather "Peace In Our Time."

On that note, Saturday Night Latham will hereafter be known as Neville Chamberlain (also: Neville C-Dawg, Saturday Neville Latham, et alii).

If the United Nations is unwilling to stop threats to international security, how exactly is it different from the failed League of Nations?

When President Theodore Roosevelt engineered the Panamanian revolt against Colombia, which allowed the United States to build the Panama Canal (see "A Man, A Plan, A Canal, Panama" from RCY's Good or Suck!), he did so despite being roundly condemned by international opinion, including France and the United Kingdom. He broke off part of a sovereign nation because that sovereign nation refused to allow us to build the Canal. And he wound up on Mount Rushmore; God bless the Old Lion!

Remember, the populations of most countries, the weight of international opinion, supported the 1938 Munich Accord, which sold sovereign Czechoslovakia to Nazi Germany. Just because something is popular, that doesn't mean it is right.

"Britain had the choice between war and dishonor. She chose dishonor; she will have war." Sir Winston Churchill, 1938, after Chamberlain engineered Munich.

It was once said, not by me, that the problem with arguing with me is that I know so very much. Yes, it is difficult to argue with me when I have a superior grasp of the facts, a superior knowledge of history, and the truth as my ally.
"Radio Free Wilson '02" and then "Marching on Baghdad" (tentative title) followed by "Death to Puerto Rico!" and the two-part "Proud Europa." After that, perhaps something on the two Koreas. We're back in business, baby.

Yes, Watergirl, the mascots have codpieces.

Saturday, March 8, 2003

Happy birthday, Dad.

It's amazing to look back and remember how sad the first season was for Star Trek: The Next Generation. Just, just awful. And yet people watched, though these same bastards never gave Deep Space Nine the benefit of the doubt. That's okay, DS9 doesn't need your love. DS9's sense of superiority will keep it warm at night, just like Ed Begley Jr.'s car that runs on his own sense of self-satisfaction. And now I think I'm going to watch "Improbable Cause" and "The Die Is Cast." I love lazy Saturdays at home.

Friday, March 7, 2003

Genesee County All-Stars 1, Bandito's 0
I just got home from the GCAS banquet at Bandito's; if you're Catholic and go to a Mexican restaurant on a Lenten Friday, be prepared to eat a lot of beans. Man oh man, it was absolutely incredible being in the company of those guys. Barkey, I must say, is one of the best storytellers I have ever heard; the man holds his audience in the palm of his hand, yet makes them feel as if they're a part of the story. Barkey, Purman, Sal, Palmer, Lubes, Dave, G, Keanu, Tad, and I; Martel and the Mountain couldn't make it, unfortunately. We finally got the shirts, designed by Mr. Luke Emeott (Grand Blanc, class of '98), and they are fabulous. The Bobcat and the Horse (the Powers Chargers) united, astride two innertubes, gigantic codpieces swaying in the breeze. The All-Stars team is an extention of the Grand Blanc Swimming and Diving family, my family. If you want to understand me, begin by understanding how much this all means to me.
When President Bush moves "unilaterally" (apparently, Britain and Australia aren't separate countries) against Iraq, people give him shit. When he tries to defer to our allies (South Korea and Russia) on North Korea, people give him shit. For fuck's sake, people, you can have it one way or the other, but not both! I would suggest that more people acquaint themselves with Alan Foster Dulles and the idea of cognitive dissonance. Meanwhile at the Hall of Justice, I thank Senator Daschle for his comments yesterday, as they will be used as a club against whomever wins the Democrat nomination in 2004; President Bush's reelection is now all but assured.

Also, I'm sobered by the knowledge of how many of my friends are complete idiots. I swear, these people just shouldn't be allowed to vote.
Things I've Decided
I haven't really decided anything, but I like that as a subject heading.

If your blog is more quizzes than anything else, you are a sad, pathetic human being. As a side note, a few nights ago while IMing with Q-Girl she sent me the link to her blog. I realized this was my opportunity to tell her I had a blog, but politely request of her that she never ever visit it. But I didn't. At the time, it seemed rude and inappropriate. Of course, I missed my chance; so, now I can't ever make that request of her. I just have to lie low and hope against hope that in her online journeys she never happens upon the Secret Base. By the way, I don't know what she hopes to get out of her blog. The updates are sporadic and, to be honest, worthless. A blog does not have to be of any great significance, I suppose, but if you never say anything important to you I don't understand why you would maintain such a site. And yes, her site is dominated by the pictoral results of online quizzes. "Which Buffy character are you?" ("You're Willow") "What mythological creature are you?" ("You are... Faerie") Gag me.

I just found out the Evil Princess is in a sorority. To be honest, yes, this bothers me. She said, "Sometimes you have to get off your soapbox and realize that people you care for will do things you don't approve of, but that doesn't change who we are." No, my dear, but it does mean you are not quite who I thought you were. Two of my best friends in high school were Danny* and Nicky the Greek. In college, at State and Eastern, respectively, both were frat boys. Through college, though I cherished them both, we rarely talked, except those first two summers when we were all home living with our parents. Nick was a huge pothead all through undergrad; we're cool again now that he's off weed, in dental school, and no longer hanging out with his frat "bros." I haven't spoken to or heard from Dan in over a year; I don't even know if he's living in East Lansing or Grand Blanc. (* I met Danny when my family moved to Grand Blanc; it was shortly before the Mountain was born - having a third kid was why we needed a bigger house - and I was two. When we were little, he was called Danny. In middle school, he announced one day that he wanted to be called by the more mature name Dan; so, he was Dan the Man, said with equal parts affection and derision. Now that we're men - "men" - I feel it is once again appropos to call my friend by his true name, Danny. Why? Because Danny was my best friend, the only person I've ever loved enough to call my other brother. I'll find you one day, Danny, and I'll save you if you need it.)

I hate the Greek system. I hate how those people behave and I hate the inherent nature of their organizations. My fake campaign for the U of M student council, which actually ended up getting me elected, was run under the banner of the F.R.A.T. Party. Do you know why? Because I hate frat boys and sorostitutes! (F.R.A.T., Friends Rebelling Against Tyranny. Man oh man, those were great days.) I cherish the Evil Princess, but she has to understand that it bothers me to know she was proudly a part of something I truly loathe, and not without reason. If her being a sorostitute didn't bother me, I wouldn't be who I am.

Wednesday, March 5, 2003

I got about three hours of sleep, but only after Mass. Of course, while I was sleeping all the ashes rubbed off my forehead. Damn it, the ashes are my favorite part of Ash Wednesday! (Then again, every Mass is a chance to see an actual, honest to God - forgive the pun - miracle. Transsubstantiation: just anther great reason to be Catholic.) Also, fast days suck, especially fast days when you're on only three hours sleep. I'm going to go to bed now, primarily so that breakfast will get here all the sooner.
News From the Middle of the Night
Well, actually it's past five; so, now it's no longer night but very very early morning. I knew I shouldn't have slept in 'til noon yesterday. Anyway, I don't know if it's good news, but I've found a site even more vapid and annoying than check out to come face to face with the startling realization of just how many people need to be lined up against a wall and shot. As Lindsay once said, "You really love the world, yet hate everything in it."
In the immortal words of Khan Noonien Singh, who until his overthrow in 1996 held dominion over a quarter of the world, "I'll chase him 'round the moons of Nibia and 'round the Antares maelstrom and 'round Perdition's flames before I give him up!"

She will be mine.
It is very inconvenient, from an egotistical point of view, to date someone who is significantly more busy than you. In trying to arrange Friday's plans with Q-Bert (thanks, Jon!), it is quite clear that my calendar is fairly open and relatively able to accomodate her hectic life as a grad student. But, then, my ego is not actually bruised by this. I love my lazybones lifestyle. I cherish the freedom which many suburban salarymen (to borrow a description from our Japanese friends) would kill to attain. I am poor, but I am beholden to no man (except my parents, who are always good for a weekend of meals and a warm bed). I am the captain of my own destiny. It just so happens that for now I am happy to work intramurals and bum around the city of my alma mater, and dream about the coming journey to Beantown and the unknown. On second thought, my ego and I love that I have the time to work around her schedule. So much more often than not, being me just kicks ass.

Tuesday, March 4, 2003

The Heroes of Empire City
Empire City
The Cloak - Aero Girl - The Gargoyle* - Dreadnaught - The Nightowl* - Achilles - Shadow Woman - Mr. Noir

Aero City
Aeroman - Aerowing - Retrograde - Atomic Woman - The Blur - Mr. Impossible - Aeronaut

The Echo* - Hyperman - The Pyre* - Morningstar - Black Rod

The Lion - Lioness - Leo Rex / Lightning Rod - Titan - Man of Science - The Boxer - The Inspector

Patriot City
The Frost* - Captain Astounding - Strongman - Tornado

Challenger - Arc Light - The Spade (II)

The Hyperion Guard
The Futurist - Helios - Celera - Lady Parnassus - Pax - The Brick & Agent M - Abstract Man - Cold Fusion - Darkwoman

Founding Members of the Secret Society of Mystery Men, A.D. 1949
The Cloak - Captain Lightning (deceased) - The Spade (I, deceased) - Aero Boy (now Aeronaut) - The Spark*

Other Cities: Neopolis, Puritan Bay, Ultrapolis, Imperium, Lydonham; Other Teams: the Spymen, the Protectors, the Interdictors; Villainous Teams: the Doom Squadron, the Fourth Reich.
*soldier of The Cloak

All characters, names, and distinctive likenesses copyright (c) 2003 Michael Patrick Wilson. All rights reserved.
I'm thinking that maybe I should just give up on Lindsay. Let's be honest, she's never going to love me the way I want her to. And I'm never going to be happy about that. Being her best friend is in many ways aggrivating the pain over my inadequacy. And it's not good to always be mad at someone who cares so much about you; it's only a matter of time before I'd feel like crap for not just striking out maliciously. Or worse, I would strike out maliciously and purposely hurt her. No, better to tell her I'm in love with her, and that I can't be her friend anymore. Just be done with it and never speak to her ever again.

And then, the dark bastard reminds me, because he wins no matter how you slice it, I'll always be plagued by the worst question in the world, "What if...?" That, and I'll hate me and my weakness for giving up. Quite the pickle in which I find myself.
My dad's giving me his current computer as soon as he buys a new one and the weekend before last he was talking about buying a new used car (an old-school Monte Carlo) for us to use. Does that mean he'd let me take it to Boston? Because he's already said he won't sell me the Mousemobile. The single most frustrating thing about Dad is his extreme kindness and decency... when he's in the right mood. Then he turns around and he's a complete bastard. I hope to speak at his funeral, may it please be years off. The main thrust is this: "Today we lay to rest my father, the most conflicted and contradictory man I have ever known. In death may he find the peace that so long eluded him in life." And because he raised me to be a man of my word, then I will do a little jig on his grave.

What will I call my next car? Could there be another Mousemobile? Is "Mousemobile" the name I give to my car or is it solely the name of the one and only Mousemobile? Could there be a Mousemobile II? Or better yet, Son of the Mousemobile? Will I one day drive a hydrogen-powered minihovervan called the Mousemobile IV? If he buys us that Monte Carlo, I already know it'll be called the Count of Monte Carlo. But perhaps there can only be one Mousemobile, to one day be laid to rest in an automotive Avalon. The once and future Mousemobile.

Sunday, March 2, 2003

Great Caesar's ghost, I can watch Star Trek: Deep Space Nine in my own home! This is a dream come true. I love Star Trek. I has been a profound influence on my life, and one of the single most important things in my life. Given the choice of never watching Star Trek ever again or never seeing a given individual ever again, the person loses nearly every time. Of all the various incarnations of Star Trek, the single greatest is DS9. And now I have the first season DVD boxset. Angels and saints be praised.

Commander Benjamin Sisko! Major Kira Nerys! Lieutenant Jadzia Dax! Doctor Julian Bashir! Chief Miles O'Brien! Constable Odo! Quark! Jake Sisko! And already we're seen Rom, Nog, Morn (as yet unnamed), and Gul Dukat! By the time it's over, the shape of the universe will have changed. Amazing.

Saturday, March 1, 2003


That's the slogan that adorned the T-shirts worn by this year's Michigan Men's Swimming and Diving Team, the 2003 Big Ten Men's Swimming and Diving Champions! 1) Michigan 727, 2) Minnesota 689.... Hell, yeah!

Now to go drinking with the Big Ten officials and meet organizers, really a swell bunch of folks.

"Lousy Smarch weather."