A Republican operative named Martin Eisenstadt was hired by the McCain campaign, having heard of his bare-knuckles, no-holds-barred success with other campaigns.

As the campaign wore on, CNN, the LA Times, and many other news outlets, especially Fox, began quoting an ‘unnamed McCain adviser’ who was responsible for starting multiple stories about Sarah Palin and John McCain, including the Palin clothing scandal, the ‘Africa is a country’ scandal, and about five or six other major news stories that helped torpedo the McCain campaign.

Among the stories: ‘Unnamed McCain campaign adviser says Governor Sarah Palin is “going rogue”; stating that she has been the hardest candidate to bring up to speed in presidential campaign history’ — from which came the title of Sarah Palin’s new 400 page book.

Martin Eisenstadt is the completely fictional creation of two shy liberal nerds, who employed a staff of eight and a professional actor to create not only a fake person, but also a fake foundation that he had purportedly started, complete with a huge fake staff contact list (with phones that were always answered by real people), and impeccable conservative social credentials. The paychecks were never cashed (that would have been illegal), and ID was never requested; ‘everyone’ knew about Marty Eisenstadt, the conservative whiz kid.

I believe these two gentleman helped change the course of history. And to see their creation’s phrase become the title of Palin’s book is Supreme Irony, especially after the hoax was revealed last year in an MSNBC interview with the two creators.

Here’s a completely fake BBC documentary Martin Eisenstadt appeared in called ‘The Last Republican’, still claimed as legitimate by confused conservatives everywhere:

OMG. Stupendously rich.

Filmaker Bill Brand’s 1980 public artwork Masstransiscope was installed in the abandoned Myrtle Avenue subway station (restored in 2008), and can be seen on the Q and B trains from DeKalb Ave. in Brooklyn going into Manhattan toward Canal or Grand Street.

I found this referenced in Scientific American, and I really dig the concept. Want to go see it.

The original 1980 interviews with Bill Brand, describing the technique in detail:

This post is dedicated to Cat-Eyes, who is busy convincing a prominent east-coast grad school to let her in, using only a big-ass pickaxe and some dynamite. Not. Really. But they’d better. Or else.

Republican Senators and Congressmen have increased the flow of vitriolic lunacy in the last few weeks. From calling him the enemy of humanity to suggesting the census will be used to round up the GOP, they’ve just been foaming at the mouth like rabid dogs.

Now this:

Newsmax columnist: Military coup “to resolve the ‘Obama problem’ ” is not “unrealistic”
September 29, 2009 5:57 pm ET by Terry Krepel

From John L. Perry’s September 29 Newsmax column:

There is a remote, although gaining, possibility America’s military will intervene as a last resort to resolve the “Obama problem.” Don’t dismiss it as unrealistic.

America isn’t the Third World. If a military coup does occur here it will be civilized. That it has never happened doesn’t mean it wont. Describing what may be afoot is not to advocate it.

[...]

Will the day come when patriotic general and flag officers sit down with the president, or with those who control him, and work out the national equivalent of a “family intervention,” with some form of limited, shared responsibility?

Imagine a bloodless coup to restore and defend the Constitution through an interim administration that would do the serious business of governing and defending the nation. Skilled, military-trained, nation-builders would replace accountability-challenged, radical-left commissars. Having bonded with his twin teleprompters, the president would be detailed for ceremonial speech-making.

Military intervention is what Obama’s exponentially accelerating agenda for “fundamental change” toward a Marxist state is inviting upon America. A coup is not an ideal option, but Obama’s radical ideal is not acceptable or reversible.

Unthinkable? Then think up an alternative, non-violent solution to the Obama problem. Just don’t shrug and say, “We can always worry about that later.”

In the 2008 election, that was the wistful, self-indulgent, indifferent reliance on abnegation of personal responsibility that has sunk the nation into this morass.

There was a class of wingnut in the nineties known as the ‘Broken-Glass Republicans’, known for their preference for crawling over broken glass rather than cooperating with Bill Clinton — but these new haters get the big trophy.

The longing for blood on the ground, the willingness to destroy the nation to regain power, the coded racism spit out with viperous, implacable, orc-like hatred —

Same old GOP, just pumped up on Smeagol-steroids. And it warms my heart to know how they really feel about this Obama guy.

The leading 2012 Republican Presidential Candidate speaks out on these matters: (Warning: Language)

Inspiring! And you get a prize if you watched the whole thing. ‘Cause I didn’t.

Large

When I went to college it weren’t nuthing like this. Dang.

I get taken up into space today. So long, everyone.

I was thinking about Max’s ‘Peter’ post, and realizing that if we all could know what other people really thought about us, a lot of ‘friendships’ would disappear in smoke.

Guy in line at the bank today was scaring everyone. Meth, facial tattoos, the proclivity for pulling one’s shirt up one’s torso, strutting in pure alpha-male fashion, and making confrontational eye contact will often frighten meeker primates. He didn’t like me. At all. ‘Cause I was bigger and meaner, without all the attitude and fashion accessories. That’s my schtick.

Drummers. They all either drink too much or think too much.

The Who’s ‘Quadrophenia’ is officially my favorite album of all time. The non-sequitur photo above is a picture of an impending confrontation between Rockers and Mods in Texas, circa 1967.

I think I’ve successfully pushed the Tortured Borg Beetle down the page. Thanks for reading.

Oh, Max did it already. And I’ve gone and stomped on him. Sorry, Max. It’s because I’m so frickin’ Superior.

Friday!!

Stuff White People Like: Camping

If you find yourself trapped in the middle of the woods without electricity, running water, or a car you would likely describe that situation as a “nightmare” or “a worse case scenario like after plane crash or something.” White people refer to it as “camping.”

When white people begin talking to you about camping they will do their best to tell you that it’s very easy and it allows them to escape the pressures and troubles of the urban lifestyle for a more natural, simplified, relaxing time. Nothing could be further from the truth.

In theory camping should be a very inexpensive activity since you are literally sleeping on the ground. But as with everything in white culture, the more simple it appears the more expensive it actually is.

Camping is a multi-day, multi-step, potentially lethal activity that will cost you a large amount of both time and money. Unless you are in some sort of position where you absolutely need the friendship of a white person, you should avoid camping at all costs.

The first stage of camping always involves a trip to an outdoor equipment store like REI (or in Canada, Mountain Equipment Co-Op). These stores are well known for their abundance of white customers and their extensive inventory of things for white people to buy and only use once. If you are ever tricked into going to one of these stores, you can make white people like you by saying things like “man, this Kayak is only $1200, if I use it 35 times I’ve already saved money over renting.” Note: do not actually buy the kayak.

Next, white people will then take this new equipment and load it into an SUV or Subaru Outback with a Thule or Yakima Roof Rack. Then they will drive for an extended period of time to a national park or campsite where they will pay an entrance fee and begin their journey. It is worth noting that white people are unaware of the irony of using a gas burning car to bring them closer to nature and it is not recommended that you point this out. It will ruin their weekend.

Once in the camp area, white people will walk around for a while, set up a tent, have a horrible night of sleep, walk around some more. Then get in the car and go home. This, of course, is a best case scenario. Worst case scenarios include: getting lost, poisoned, killed by an animal, and encountering an RV. Of these outcomes, the latter is seen by white people as the worst since it involves an encounter with the wrong kind of white people.

Conversely, any camping trip that ends in death at the hands of nature or requires the use of valuable government resources for a rescue is seen as relatively positive in white culture. This is because both situations might eventually lead to a book deal or documentary film about the experience.

Ultimately the best way to escape a camping trip with white people is to say that you have allergies. Since white people and their children are allergic to almost everything, they will understand and ask no further questions. You should not say something like “looking at history, the instances of my people encountering white people in the woods have not worked out very well for us.”

Note: this works for all races!

The cybernetic beetle is now a fact.

For those so inclined see the paper, “Remote radio control of insect flight,” in Frontiers in Integrative Neuroscience.

It’s not often that an event occurs that causes one to challenge one’s core philosophical assumptions. I find myself at such a point. The assumption I’ve long held, central to my world view, is that while organized religion is generally a bad thing, personal spiritual development is of the highest value. Indeed, I’ve often considered it to be the only thing in life that genuinely matters in the end. I now wonder if this is all bullshit. Perhaps this spiritual insight constitutes one of the most powerful and compelling delusions it is possible to achieve and its results are ultimately disastrous.

The event that catalyzed this thought occurred two days ago when I went to a music session at the home of my teacher and collaborator who I will refer to as Peter. I was in a highly agitated state due to a growing sense of frustration. Our aim for the evening, as it had often been over the preceding several months, was to record some basic tracks for the project I’ve been immersed in for the bulk of the past year. For at least two months Peter had led me to believe that he would have recording capability any day now, but it had always failed to materialize. I determined that I would take the bull by the horns on this occasion and bring what was necessary to accomplish my objectives. I brought a powerful PC with a new firewire card to work with my friend Reed’s mixer that he would be bringing. I got the PC set up and Reed called saying he’d be there in a half an hour. I asked Peter if we could focus on getting the necessary microphone connections in place as he was fully equipped on that score.

Peter asked me what I intended to accomplish and I told him, as I had many times, that I simply wanted his drums, my bass, and Reed’s guitar on a couple of tracks so we could work with them on our own schedule. Peter claimed this was an impossibility within the time available and at this point my frustrations bubbled over. I remarked that I was very frustrated with this limitation, didn’t understand why it had not been overcome to this point, and expressed general dissatisfaction with the pace of our progress in the project. My clear implication was that he bore some responsibility for this situation.

Peter became very upset, to say the least. He gestured with one hand at knee level and one over his head. “Your frustrations are down here, while mine are up here.” He’d recently suffered a painful breakup with his live-in girlfriend of many years, the heart-rending story of which he’d regaled us with at almost every session. I sympathized deeply because I’ve had more than my share of romantic horror stories over the course of my adult life. There was another reason. Two years ago I had revealed to Peter a deep personal crisis that was tearing me apart and he had provided crucial support. He’d been a shoulder to cry on and I had availed myself fully of his help. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated that and genuinely wanted to return the favor.

On this occasion however, his dismissive gesture hit me like a hammer blow. I found it to be powerfully demeaning of my perspective which, as a friend as well as a paying customer, should not be disparaged. He also told me I was lucky to not be thrown out of the house for being disrespectful of him in his home. I wasn’t going to take this lying down and, to make a long story a little short, the argument continued until I did indeed end up leaving without playing a note. Reed had arrived in the meantime and we went out for a couple beers and made plans for a new drummer.

Peter considers himself a Man of God. He is a brilliant musician and has hung around rock and jazz musicians all his life and yet has never, he claims, touched drugs or alcohol. He teaches in Waldorf schools and embraces a spiritual philosophy big on the values of knighthood and chivalry. He has three copies of Parsifal on his bookshelf. He also has a great sense of humor and has Spinal Tap and the bulk of Monty Python’s Flying Circus memorized. He practically worships Led Zepplin, though hates that they ruined the musical brilliance of the Lemon Song with those filthy lyrics (“squeeze me baby ’til the juice runs down my leg”). The man is a puzzle.

He is also a kind and gentle man who is a joy to be around the vast majority of the time and he’s got amazing talent on every musical instrument imaginable, spontaneously creative and overspilling with great ideas for novel hooks and progressions. He brought a great spirit and enthusiasm to my music. It’s a shame I had to cut the cord and no longer work with him. The problem is that I broke through the facade and now know that he values himself on a higher plane as a human being, and I can’t tolerate how that makes me feel. I’m just too emotionally vulnerable for that.

Could it be that the spiritual insight Peter has is also the source of a powerful delusion of self-importance? Perhaps I’m guilty of a sweeping generalization, but could this be the case with most if not all ‘spiritually enlightened’ individuals, these women and men of God? I’m not entirely speaking as an outsider. I once had a powerfully enlightening episode – with a significant boost from certain naturally occurring chemicals. I felt a oneness with eternity, a sense of perfection and pure love for the universe and all it contained. I felt like a God. The sense was that this feeling was too special, too perfect, too blissful to be anything but the ultimate truth and the reason for being. I was changed by it, though the change did not hold. My habitual carnal pleasures brought me down from the ethereal plane and I soon felt like an ordinary schmuck, no better or worse than any other stinking bag of flesh and bones on this planet.

Still, I was left with the lingering belief that I must someday return to that blessed place because it was the ultimate high, the self-evident goal of human existence. Now I am not so sure. Perhaps I should fully embrace the ordinary, the carnal, the grim stuff of real life. Perhaps all “enlightenment” is a sham, a trick of overloading the brain’s pleasure sensors. Perhaps each and every Man of God is a deluded fool, made dangerous to all of us ‘lesser’ mortals by the power of their delusion of superiority.

Something to think about.

“Stop attracting me! Aaarrggh!”