An open letter to University of Utah President Michael K. Young

Dear Mr. Young,

It has come to my attention recently that the University of Utah has suffered heavy criticism from various Native American and student organizations due to its Indian-inspired mascot, the University of Utah Utes. Two close friends of mine attend your fine institution of higher learning and have expressed deep frustrations with these sentiments. Should you ever make the decision to abandon the Ute mascot in favor of something less offensive, I am quite certain that one of them would attempt to ignite the Quinney Law Library by spitting "hot fire" all over it. Nonetheless, if the name continues, inevitably some hippy campus organization will probably try to change your mind by spelling out words with their bodies in the nude. As we all know, nothing is more persuasive than a group of smelly misanthropes, depressed because they missed out on the sixties, looking for an excuse to tear off their clothes in public. You situation is quite the predicament.

Nonetheless, I do believe I can offer a way out. The University of Utah could conceivably change its mascot without technically changing its name. From now on, you should simply call yourselves the University of Utah Youts. In case you are not familiar with the word, "Yout" is a term used by 80 year old men from the East Coast to describe anyone younger than themselves. The pronunciation is exactly the same as your current mascot, the Utes. Trust me, most of the meatheads in your athletic department would never even notice you made the change.

If adopted, the Yout would make for an intimidating, formidable mascot. Nothing strikes fear into the hearts of opponents more than the virility and spunk of the young. Now I have taken the liberty of sampling some possible new logos to go with your new team name. Please consider them carefully.

First, the Big U Bottle. This logo is simple. Not too flashy. Like your current one, it makes use of the red Utah "U" but at the same time, abandons the circle and feathers in favor of a more appropriate baby bottle.

Second is the always classic bottle/rattle/pacifier, the last of which is likely to come in handy if the rest of the university is pissing and moaning about Bogut leaving for the NBA as much as the Ill-Informed Agitator is. I have to admit that I'm not as big a fan of this one as I am the bottle. The bottle is singularly distinguished whereas this logo might be to busy.

So what about the Yout himself? I prefer this graphic because it not only captures the nature of Yout, but also that this Yout isn't afraid to tattoo shit on his forehead. Yeeah. Fear it.

One final logo...and I doubt that this one will be the favorite amongst the faculty, is the breast pump. This logo also serves the purpose of showing the gender equality present on your campus.

Regardless of how you may decide to proceed, I wish you luck with this important decision. Many thanks for your consideration of these suggestions.

Sincerely,

Your Friendly Neighborhood Clark Bar

Found above a urinal in Mbabane, Swaziland. 

The Killers

I dig the Killers, but I'm not a big fan of the mid-album makeover. Last night I was bowling at Park Tavern with Yacks, Rand-McNally, and Timberlake when the video for "Somebody Told Me" came on. I'm pretty sure that either that or "Smile Like You Mean It" was their first single off of Hot Fuss. On the video, they're rolling the faded jeans and suit coat. Very Lucas McMillen.

But then somewhere down the line, some ass at the record company realizes a couple things. First, that the whole '80s retro mod thing is in. So they dress the group up in brightly-colored three piece suits. They also realized that the lead singer is (apparently, I've heard) somewhat attractive. So they give the kid a haircut, doll him up, etc. Fine, whatever, do what you can to sell a few albums. But are the eye makeup and sparkles really necessary? I like the music and all, but it's like they're turning into Culture Club right before my eyes.

Buchanan on Rice

I don't really dig Pat Buchanan 90% of the time, but the man speaks my language on Iraq.

A Scolding from Miss Rice

Men are from Mars, Women are from someplace that doesn’t speak English.

The psychological differences between men and women can be summed up in one word:

“Fine.”

I was at a wedding this weekend and ended up walking into a conversation between two friends about how men are selfish, don’t understand women, blah blah blah. The tired mantra. These conversations are always hilarious to me because so many women fail to understand how exceedingly straightforward the male psyche really is.

Here’s what it comes down to in a nutshell. Men are simple creatures. When we say something or ask for something, you can bet that it is a verbatim description of our thoughts, absent of innuendo. Now women, on the other hand, are much less prone to simply saying what’s on their mind. It has to be wrapped up in hints and insinuation. Unlike simpleton men, women are an enigma. Male scientists are still at work, poking their brains, studying female thought as we speak.

Now, the error most men make in regards to women is thinking that women mean what they say. Women make the opposite mistake, presuming some sort of underlying implication to what men say. This couldn’t be more wrong.

Case in point. A number of years ago back in high school, I had a female debate partner who would often complain that our outfits didn’t match. Whatever. I wore the exact same navy sport coat, slacks, and white dress shirt every damn tournament (as Well-Informed History Student could attest to). If it were really all that important to her, she could have matched my clothes without any effort on my part. Anyway, one morning as we’re getting ready to head to the tournament from our hotel, she shows up at my room asking if her outfit is okay. I gave her a quick glance. Hell, as long as she wasn’t dressed in a pink gorilla costume it would have been acceptable to me. I told her it was fine without giving it a second thought. She gave me a weird look and walked back to her room.

Ten minutes later, she’s back in a different power suit. “What about this one?” I’m a little confused at this point since I’d already given my unambiguous approval to her previous choice, but whatever. Told her this one was fine too. She gives me the stink eye and storms off. Again, five minutes later, she knocks at my door. Yet another outfit. I plead to her that it looks fine and just to wear it. But no. She dashes off to her room yet again and soon returns in her original set of clothing. “I don’t care what you think. I’m going to wear whatever I want.”

I was a young man and ignorant of the world. I now know that women don’t always abide by the Webster’s Dictionary definition of the word fine: “of superior quality, skill, or appearance.” To them, the word might mean “You look like hell and should go change your clothes before I vom.” Simple miscommunication.

Now today, I’m a very lucky man. I have a great woman in my life who understands the elementary plane of male thought. Our relationship is unencumbered by male-female static. She understands that I am a simpleton and can speak simpleton to me if she so needs. I do my best to speak female when I really need to.

Example. One time Mayo Nurse and I were at a nice store someplace looking at dinnerware. She was very fond of one particular set, which I thought was actually pretty kewl looking. Decision made as far as I’m concerned. Nonetheless, Mayo Nurse did want to look at a few other possible sets. Now I really don't know much about dinnerware. To me, a plate is a plate. As long as it serves its primary function of holding my food in a satisfactory manner, then I’m happy with it. Now the other plates there weren’t quite as attractive, though I could have lived with any of them. Simply saying, “Eh, I can live with that,” would express to Mayo Nurse an unintended sense of indifference. I don't want her to think that I don't care about this. I also don't want her to think I'm agreeing just for the sake of agreeing. Thus, the best thing to do is simply turn it up a notch and give opinions of the ones I really dislike in no uncertain terms.

“Those ones kinda suck.”

“I don’t think I could ever eat off of this one.”

“Green? Will that match?”

It’s all a matter of degree. Even though I happened to like the first set that we looked a lot more than any of the others, expressing no opinion towards everything else might make her think that I don’t really care. And that’s certainly not the attitude I’m trying to convey.

Ha. John Gray’s got nothing on these pearls...

A matter of allegiances...

Just to highlight the differences between Blue and Red America, this is a picture I took yesterday in the courtyard in between the Hennepin County Courthouse and Hennepin County Government Center.

Now, in Montana, it's not uncommon to fly the Canadian flag alongside the state flag and the American flag since Montana is a border state and we tend to have more in common with Alberta and Saskatchewan than with most of the states in our own union.

Hennepin County also flies three flags: the American flag, the Minnesota state flag, and the United Nations flag. Posting this banner at a government building would be absolutely inconceivable back home in the Rocky Mountain West, where it is not uncommon to see "US out of UN!" billboards on the interstate.

Anyway, I've got to get to work, but I figured the Agitator and Tommy Kramer would get a kick out of Blue and White flying high in Minnesota.

P.S. I suspect that the UNGA stole the color scheme from our Fragile Nancies softball jerseys in designing that thing...

Government security

Yesterday I had to attend a trial in the Hennepin County Government Center. So I get slicked up in my suit and roll the two or three blocks from IDS to the center. I walk into the building, find out what floor the case is on, and proceed the the elevator. A heavyset security guard stands in my way and asks if I need some help. Told him I was doing fine and continued toward the elevator door. The guy stops me. "No, you have to go through that first."

The metal detector. The bane of my existence. It's not so much that I have trouble getting through metal detectors myself. It's that everyone else does. What only makes it worse is that the savy personnel manning these machines either are paranoid that you might attempt a homicide with some nail clippers (read: TSA) or really would prefer not to get off of their stools to remind some jackass to remove shit from their pockets (security at any government building). I understand the overboard TSA folks. Anyone would given events within the last few years. It's the govvies that bother me because their inertia risks making me late.

I hopped in the line to the metal detector. As you can guess there are some interesting individuals waiting to get their day in court in Hennepin County. None of them appear to be aware of the purpose behind this large doorway that flashes and makes beeping noises (I considered following someone else's lead, throwing an elbow and knocking them out of my path, but that might just be enough to coax the guards off their duffs). You can see huge chunks of metal accessories attached to them and it always takes two or three attempts to clear it all off.

This feller yesterday took the cake though. Guy has on a wife beater and some jeans you could fit a small family in. He saunters through the metal detector doing that gangsta walk where it looks like one leg might be shorter than the other (the chicks cream over that, by the way). This guy not only still has his cell phone hooked to his belt, but he has the hands free clipped to his wife beater and stuck in his ear--this Einstein's still day trading or whatever. What's even more disturbing is that the security guy doesn't say a thing as he's about to walk through. He literally sat there and watched the guy slowly mosey under the lintle. Only then comes the suggestion to take off the celly.

I think the classic episode of government security guard laziness occurred six years ago at the Helena, MT federal building. I'm there with my buddies Richland County and Priest Pimpin'. Richland County had to run upstairs and pick up some documents he ordered for a paper he was writing. He rolls through security. Priest Pimpin' and I decide to sit and wait outside of the security area rather than bother with the hassle. While Richland County is upstairs, the UPS guy comes in with a dolley full of boxes. He takes each individual one and sets it on the metal detector belt. When he gets to the largest box at the bottom, he sets it on the belt and realizes that it's too big to go through the mouth. With the security guard sitting there on his stool, the UPS guy set the box back on the dolley and then proceeded to walk around the metal detector with it, pick up the rest of his boxes and go on his merry way. The guard was only too happy to let him do his thing.

I can only assume that these individuals were normal people when they began their jobs. I mean, it's not like they're the utterly useless folks they have working at the Helena Arby's. I'm curious, though, what exactly happens to a person when they become a government security guard that makes them so...sluggish? Is it some sort of chemical byproduct of red tape? Radiation from the metal detector? Marijuana? How does a single occupation break down a man's drive to achieve some minor task in his day to day life?

The whole situation makes me a touch uncomfortable considering that somewhat unbalanced individuals have taken advantage of these lapses in the past. Maybe some sort of on the job entertainment would be a good idea. Something that'll keep them excited and motivated. Some soft core porn might do the trick....but then try getting everyone else through the line. Dammit........In that case, the only option left has to be Scrabble. I'm writing my commissioner.

WMD and Santa Claus

It no longer surprises me that there are people who still deny the Holocaust. For some inexplicable reason, human beings have an innate tendency to cling to disproven notions as gospel truth, often because of some crap they read on the internet.

Take this guy for example. We’ll call him Ostrich Syndrome. Despite the fact that the Administration long ago gave up on this point, along with the Republican apparatus and the credible conservative news media, Ostrich Syndrome believes that those weapons of mass destruction are still hiding in Iraq somewhere.

Now even those who made the mistake of supporting the war without first allowing the weapons inspectors to do their jobs know that there are no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. What used to be an issue of debate is now stale fodder for standup comics and Will & Grace episodes. It’s a farce. The only real issue is whether or not the powers that be either knew or should have known that this was the case.

There is ample evidence out there. Take for example the revelation by then-Deputy Defense Secretary Paul Wolfowitz that weapons of mass destruction were simply a pretense for invasion—"For bureaucratic reasons, we settled on weapons of mass destruction because it was the one issue everyone could agree on” (Vanity Fair magazine, May 2003). In truth, by landing American troops in Iraq, we had an alternative location for American military presence and would no longer need to station ourselves in Saudi Arabia (“Let's look at it simply. The most important difference between North Korea and Iraq is that economically, we just had no choice in Iraq. The country swims on a sea of oil,” stated on June 1, 2003). But of course, if they’d gone to the American people with that, they might not have gotten the public support he’d needed. Option B is to scare the living crap out of people by telling them that their lives depend upon it. Enter weapons of mass destruction.

Nonetheless, despite everyone having gone home from the scavenger hunt, Ostrich Syndrome believes that those WMD are still out there hiding in Iraq and that their presence is ample justification for violating international law and preemptively invading a foreign nation. His evidence? For starters, a book review on the CIA’s web site. A gentleman named Mahdi Obeidi is a former Iraqi scientist who defected to the US. He discusses how he was instructed to bury a gas centrifuge in his garden by Iraqi authorities and details life in the WMD department.

There are just a few problems here. First, Ostrich Syndrome is making the same mistake that CIA made before all of this started in the first place. Let’s say that you are a scientist working in Iraq. Maybe even a scientist who is a part of a chemical weapons program under the Hussein regime. Chances are pretty good that you don’t want to be in Iraq. But if you try defecting to a western nation to seek asylum, then you’re going to need to ensure your value to that nation. As such a scientist, the best way to do that is to tell the intelligence community exactly what they want to hear about your home country. Fib a little. Stretch some truths. A perfect example is a scientist that the CIA codenamed “Screwball” (telling, isn’t it?). Screwball’s intel was the basis for much of Colin Powell’s famous speech at the UN detailing what America knew about Saddam’s weapons program, much of which we now know to be false. Apparently at the time, there were also multiple warnings to the administration and CIA that Screwball was not only making things up, but legally insane. The substance sounded good, though, so we just went with it.

Mahdi is one of these truth-stretching defector fellows. How do we know? Because when others checked on the facts his book, they found that he made up many of the relevant individuals in it. They plain never existed. Funny how CIA doesn’t mention that in the book review.

But let’s pretend for a moment that Ostrich Syndrome is right and that there were weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. Let’s even pretend for a moment that al Qaeda and the Hussein regime, sworn enemies of one another, were actually in cahoots (hey, they’re all Muslims right?). Is a war really the way to remedy the situation? The issue of an Iraqi invasion started getting tossed around right after Afghanistan. The tanks started rolling in March 2003 after we’d been amassing troops in Kuwait for quite some time. If Saddam Hussein were really going to take his WMD and hand it over to a terrorist organization of global reach, don’t you think that maybe he would have done it during that year-and-a-half window of opportunity? If I can figure this out, then I’m sure someone in the Pentagon can…and did. It only supports the contention that we never invaded for this reason in the first place and that the weapons probably weren’t there.

So why didn’t Saddam let us trek around his country looking for them for so long? Because it made strategic sense not to. As much as we like to complain about them, sanctions were effective at keeping most of what he needed out of the country. Even if he wanted to support a WMD program, it is unlikely that Saddam could have bankrolled it. That would help explain why we found a lot of potential for a WMD program, but no WMDs. Nonetheless, we’re not dealing with a stable guy here. He fears Iran and he fears us. Much like North Korea today, he believed he needed a deterrent. It made much more sense fiscally and strategically to publicly deny having WMD while giving the world strong hints that he did. That way, the belief that you have chem/bio weapons serves as a deterrent against invasion by your enemies and in the mean time, you can spend money elsewhere. All you have to do is take small steps to keep up the impression that you do have a program. This includes kicking out the people who are searching your country for WMD. Once it became apparent that the US was going to invade unless they let in the inspectors, the strategy had to change. Much to our surprise (and chagrin) he let the inspectors in. They didn’t find anything. We invaded anyway. Then we didn’t find anything.

Anyway, the rest of us have moved from the question of whether there were weapons of mass destruction to how we screwed up our intelligence so badly. Nonetheless, Ostrich Syndrome sticks to his tired contentions that they’re still out there. I’ve no doubt this kid argued with his parents for weeks when they told him that there was no Santa. I also have no doubt that little inconveniences like facts will never be enough to deter him in his erroneous beliefs…

Saving the homeless

I really don’t mean to sound insensitive, but we have some very untalented homeless people here in Minneapolis. This isn’t necessarily true of all of our panhandlers as some are very good at what they do. The amateurs, however, really ruin it for the guy who legitimately needs a buck.

Example: Last semester I was at the Chipotle downtown on Nicolette Mall. For those who don’t know, Chipotle makes the best burrito known to mankind. Bar none. If I’d had one of these nearby during college, I would easily weigh another fifty pounds. Just thinking about it is getting me all hot and bothered.

Anyway, I’m sitting in Chipotle eating my burrito and minding my own business. A guy walks up to me and says, “Excuse me, sir, do you have a soul?” It sounded kind of like a cheesy pickup line so I thought maybe I misheard him and asked him what he’d said. Sure enough, this man wanted to know if I had a soul. Naturally, I replied in the affirmative. Great that we could come to consensus on this issue. Now that he knows that I do, in fact, have a soul, he wants to know if I can give him “five or six bucks” so he can get something to eat. Now I realize that inflation is a bitch, but come on—five or six bucks? Whatever happened to “Brother can you spare a dime?”

Alright, cynical though I may be, I’m not without compassion. I told the guy the truth—that I don’t carry cash around but that if he was truly hungry, I’d be willing to buy him a burrito or something. He stood there dumbfounded and looked at me for a second, before telling me, “Well, I’m from California and all they have to eat down there is Mexican food…No thanks.” Great, pal. You were hungry enough to walk into a restaurant, throw that cheese line at me, and hit me up for cash, but the prospect of eating Mexican food is just too much. In a Mexican restaurant, no less.

Guys like this really hurt those who do need help legitimately. You stop trusting that any of these people are truly looking for something to eat and one day find yourself waving off anyone who hits you up for change. It’s truly tragic. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about it until talking to a few friends the other night.

During summer out here, you might avoid the rain, the mosquitoes, and the panhandlers, but you cannot avoid the bachelorettes. The other night at Brothers Bar, there must have been six of these bachelorette parties there at once—armies of tipsy twenty-somethings donning plastic tiaras and multi-colored boas, all wanting to know one thing from you:

“Suck for a buck?”

This is the solution to the homeless problem. If these chicks can make a dime or two for their honeymoon off of some drunk guys biting off a piece of candy that’s pinned to a chick’s pink t-shirt, then surely it can work for the rest of these chaps. I mean, at least when I give some bachelorette a dollar, I’m getting a lifesaver out of the deal. When a homeless guy hits me up, I get nothing in return. Consideration, baby. That’s the ticket.

Ten best professional baseball uniforms

2005 Washington Nationals
I don’t care what anyone thinks. I like these unies. It’s a pretty kewl combo of the classic Washington “W” logo from the days of the Senators with the new Nationals team name and logo. The only problem with Washington is that they have way too many logos. They’ve got the “Nationals” logo, the W, some DC logo…it kinda dilutes the kewlness of it all.

1978 Milwaukee Brewers
’78 was the dawn of one of the great baseball logos of all time: the Brewers ball and mitt. Prior to this year, they had just a plain “M” on their hats. They added the logo and stuck to the baby blue pullover jersey. Too hot to handle.

1927 St. Louis Cardinals
The 1927 Cards were the last team to make use of what had actually been somewhat common for awhile back in the early 1900s. After winning the World Series, they added “World Champions” to their logo. I’m half-surprised Steinbrenner never picked up on that idea.

1963 Kansas City Athletics
This is from back when they were using kelly green instead of that forest shit Oakland uses now. This is a man’s jersey.

1979 Philadelphia Phillies
From what I understand, Philadelphia only rolled the maroon bad boys out for one game. The pitcher did so badly that they never wore them again. It’s a crying damn shame. Baseball had been waiting for a full maroon team, from hat to socks. The White Sox shorts were a one game shame, but these would have hot. Nonetheless, for whatever reason, the Phillies stuck with the pin stripes at home and the blue away jerseys.

1943 All-American Girls League
Sliding in skirts? Hells yeah, man. Looks oddly similar to that White Sox in shorts outfit, doesn’t it?

1938 Brooklyn Dodgers
The birth of a classic. In 1938, Brooklyn abandoned the green trim they’d been using for the cursive Dodgers logo and the Brooklyn B. The ole trolley dodgers have never looked back.

1917 Flagged Motif
When the U.S. entered the Great War, Major League Baseball showed their support by adding a flagged motif onto the sleeve of all their uniforms. The trend was picked up again after 9/11, but the 1917 flag was not only an original idea but a hell of a lot kewler.

1978 San Diego Padres
The late seventies had to be the high water mark as far as baseball uniforms are concerned. This sucker’s a classic. It’s a shame that the Pawds eventually ditched the brown and gold in favor of blue and white. Horrid. I’ve gotta get one of these throwbacks at Lids or someplace.

1975 Houston Astros
BAD ASS. There have been few uniforms more bold than this classic right here. Can’t decide what color you want your team to be? Fuck all, we’re using all of them!

An affront to Henry Ford part II

Why? What possible good can this do?

The smirking chimp on democracy

I saw Bush on TV today in the Great Falls International (smirk) Airport. He’s down at a conference for the Organization of American States, pushing the Central American Free Trade Agreement and, of course, more democracy in Central and South America. I’m sure they appreciate it.

At this point it is clear that Bush has no sense of history whatsoever. He totes around concepts like “democracy” and “freedom” with the same sense of blind belief that a six-year-old might have in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. They are the universal fix for any problem anywhere in the world. Pour a little democracy on it and it’ll be fine.

But what frustrates me most about Bush’s political alchemy is they way he defends it. When others point out that certain parts of the world might not be ready for democratic change let alone forced democratic change, he responds that he believes that the people of Iraq are “capable” of upholding a democratic system, implying that the rest of us do not. He’s daring the rest of us to come out and say that Arabs are somehow not as able to embrace their own collective destiny as those of us in the West.

So Warhank, you’ve inspired me to be the asshole here. They’re not. And why stop with the Middle East? The vast majority of countries in the Mideast, South Asia, and parts of Africa are not capable of supporting a democracy at this point in time because they lack the social, political, economic and cultural development necessary to foment liberal change.

Now one caveat here. I’m not implying that Arabs, South Asians, or anyone else lacks the capacity or intellect that democracy requires. I’m not arguing that there are any inherent differences that distinguishes the West. But as far as social institutions are concerned, the nations in theses regions are a long way from reaching the point at which democracy might foment.

In Does the U.S. Need a Foreign Policy, Henry Kissinger employs an analogy that some might find ethnocentric. Before evaluating American foreign policy toward an area of the world, he compares its current development to a point in European history. Yeah, it is ethnocentric. I don’t care. In many instances, he’s right on the mark.

His analysis of the Arab world is one of those particular instances. Kissinger analogizes the current Middle East to seventeenth century Europe. When I first read it about three years ago, I found the comparison to be somewhat arrogant. After all, how do you presume that one region either is developing or should develop along the same course as another?

Over the last few years, however, the parallels have crystallized a bit more in my own mind. At that point in European history, feudal society had completely given way to the rise of the monarchies. Monarchs claimed a divine right to rule and openly held that individual human beings lacked the capacity to govern themselves. Thomas Hobbes justified the same from a more realist standpoint, deriving his viewpoints from the state of nature and origins of government. But unlike today’s West in which Caesar and God are held to be completely separate, in the sixteenth and seventeenth century, God was Caesar. Despite the Protestant Reformation, there was still significant overlap between religion and government. Monarchs ruled because God wanted them to.

The situation is very similar in today’s Arab world. Islamists reject democracy because it implies rule by man instead of rule by God. Advocates of an Islamic republic would prefer to derive an answer to any political question from Sharia, as interpreted by the ruling clerics. In other words, they adhere strictly to the notion that God is Caesar and that they are His instruments. Only they are capable of making God’s intentions reality. Thus, their authority is divine and not to be questioned by those who might prefer an elected representative government.

The important part is not the parallel itself but the historical lesson. No one rolled tanks into Europe to impose democracy at the turn of the 18th century. The idea developed along with Western Europe’s social evolution. It grew along with education and middle classes, the primary elements in any stable democracy. The wheels took a long time to get rolling, but these movements were ultimately successful because they were home grown, not imposed by outsiders who knew a better way.

If George W. Bush and the neo cons are genuine in their desire to see democracy succeed in the Middle East, then they should have kept the armies at home. The best way to see this goal through would be to foster both education and economic development. A generation of frustrated young men is growing up in this region. They have nowhere to turn for an education or a job. As a result, they turn to Hizb Allah, Islamic Brotherhood, and countless other organizations that advocate terror and fundamentalism. Democracy imposed through violence will not fix these problems. A new Marshall Program could.

Bush’s assumption that democracy can succeed anywhere under any conditions is grossly incorrect. Most of the Middle East is not ready for democracy in any way, shape or form, but there is much that can be done by the West to hasten the day when they are.

Conrad Beer. One sip and your thirst'll done be refreshed! 

Wilcox shows off his new Gary* Perry suspenders...

C-SPAN Classic

.

It’s time, baby.

Imagine a channel you can turn to at any time of day that displays the classic political moments of the television age. ESPN had a fit of genius in the creation of ESPN Classic. Now it’s my turn, dammit. It’s time for C-SPAN to saddle up and finally create C-SPAN Classic.

It would be a thing of beauty. I could sit around on a Saturday afternoon and watch Mario Cuomo’s speech at the 1984 Democratic National Convention…Maybe the three-way debates in ’92…The Dean Scream. I’m getting a touch excited just sitting here thinking about it.

But it’s not just debates and speeches, ya know? You could have the equivalent of SportsCentury. Instead of a brief documentary about the ’88 World Series and Kirk Gibson’s homer off of Dennis The Menace Eckersley, you could have Ronald Reagan’s comeback in the ’84 debates against Walter Mondale (“I’m not going to use my opponent’s youth and inexperience against him”—and Mondale’s out cold on the mat). Classic College Football? Easy. State level political power plays. Reel Classics? Serve up some Mr. Smith Goes to Washington and The Candidate. Maybe they can even include some classic Prime Minister’s Questions.

This sucker is a goldmine. It’s gonna be great day for America…