From an article by Johnathan Spence:

I find it very hard to take leave of Arthur Waley. This is, at least partly, because by reading Madly Singing in the Mountains I have learned that at the time I spent a long happy afternoon with Waley when I was a graduate student just embarking on the study of Chinese history and literature, his lifetime companion Beryl de Zoete was dying painfully upstairs. It is clearly fitting that the last words should be his, not mine. So here are some lines from his translation of “The Bones of Chuang Tzu” by Chang Heng. This, he once told Carmen Blacker, was his favorite Chinese poem.

Suddenly I looked and by the roadside

I saw a man’s bones lying in the squelchy earth,

Black rime-frost over him; and I in sorrow spoke

And asked him saying, ‘Dead man, how was it?

Fled you with your friend from famine and for the last grains

Gambled and lost? Was this earth your tomb,

Or did floods carry you from afar? Were you mighty,

were you wise,

Were you foolish and poor? A warrior, or a girl?’

Then a wonder came; for out of the silence a voice�

Thin echo only, in no substance was the Spirit seen�

Mysteriously answered saying, ‘I was a man of Sung,

Of the clan of Chuang; Chou was my name.

Beyond the climes of common thought

My reason soared, yet could I not save myself!

For at the last, when the long charter of my years was told,

I too, for all my magic, by Age was brought

To the Black Hill of Death.’

Billy Beck, in reviewing The Crisis Of The Old Order by Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr., writes:

A horribly maudlin thing: the kitty brings a ratty present to FDR’s grave.

It’s almost impossible to describe the baroque scene Beck’s metaphor brings to my mind - the lightning, the rain, the sad kitty (who is also, somehow Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr), the (imaginary) sinister Gothick tomb of Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the dead ratty (with X-ed out eyes). An adorable image, indeed. Riccardo Freda meets Disney.

As usual, it isn’t with a bang nor a whimper that freedom dies, but with a penstroke. Perhaps you’ve noticed kids whizzing down the streets and sidewalks on those little motorized scooters? Well, all that nonsense will be done with soon, and the Seattle People’s Press is cheering it on:

Unlicensed, uninsured, unprotected and underage, riders regularly rip down city sidewalks on gas- powered scooters, zigging past dogs and startled elders, engines whining.

Detractors compare the sound to chain saws, weed eaters, Jet Skis and hyperventilating leaf blowers. In mounting calls to city halls, they complain about boys, toys, noise, speed, safety and the lack of rules.

In response, city staffs across the state have been hammering out pedestrian-friendly proposals to regulate the motorized “powerboards.”

Of course the have. Busy little workers those “city staffs” are. And of course the prescription is, as always, “rules”. Helmets and tests and licences and registrations will quickly swathe this little shoot of anarchy in suffocating rolls of government compassion, rendering us all safe from this sort of menace:

Even the slower e-scooters lend them an exhilarating sense of freedom. “I like how you don’t have to do anything but just stand there and, like, just let go,” said Evan Miglorie, a 13-year-old in West Seattle who rides an electric Bravo that averages about 12 mph. “It’s kind of like driving a real car.”

Sense of freedom? Pish and tosh - true freedom comes with having a licenced, registered, and taxed vehicle, son. Just ask any Republican: this is all about preserving freedom, not limiting it. That’s why the Scooter Police will kick your ass if you cross them - they protect your freedoms, too.

And also noted in the People’s Press, the Seattle jail staff murdered a man:

But while in custody, medical staff members at the jail opted to treat the pain with methadone, something Henderson’s family said he objected to.

…

According to the court documents, the Medical Examiner’s Office suggested that medical providers at the jail calculated Henderson’s dosage based on the amount a recovering heroin addict would require. But Henderson, who was not a heroin user, did not have the tolerance for the drug that an addict would have built up. Hence, the dosage he was given was lethal.

…But he was a criminal anyways and black besides so who really cares and the matter is being taken “very seriously” and “additional training” is being implemented. So move along, Citizen - nothing more to see here.

Note that the Seattle P-I lavishes far more attention on the scooter-nannies than they do to the matter of the death of a helpless human being. The gentle paternal scold towards the rebellious moto-brats contrasts quite nicely with the clipped and vague boredom of the tale of rogue lethal injectors in the public employ.

Unbiased media is a contradiction in terms.

I am now the new god of the Daily Pic. Inlookers* will have noticed that a subtle change in the aesthetic direction of the Daily Pic Project has begun - I am not quite so enamored of wholesome 40’s style cheesecake as was our esteemed (and now helpless) editor.

To our concerned critics, I stress that the Daily Pic project will continue to be, as it has always been, provided to the readership purely for the purposes of education and disease prevention.

To dear Karen I only say this - opportunity is knocking!

*"Inlookers" - copyright B. Beck, all rights reserved

There’s noise lately about the possibility that Islamic radicals might use The Bomb. But there’s something that you, Citizen, can do to protect yourself.

Don’t be there when it goes off.

That’s it, folks. Don’t be there when it goes off. That means staying out of target areas like New York City and DC, mainly. And who’d want to visit those hell-holes anyway?

“Look at the White House, Martha. I’m gonna get a picture of it!”
“No photos allowed by Exectutive order 1347582-2(C)! Place your information-capture device on the ground and step away!”
[smash]
“You are hereby arrested for Failure To Obey Security Forces In A Timely Manner!”

Nah, not for me. And there’s another advantage of staying out of target areas, too. By doing so, you’re taking responsibility for your own self, not handing it over to The Gub’ment like some welfare ‘client’ or something. It’s constantly amusing to see the self-described “conservatives” on the ‘Net yapping on about the War On Terror. Every last one of them is clamoring for the government to Do Something, Anything, Now! about the terrorists. Why, it was just last President that they were all for personal responsibility and smaller government and what-not. It’s funny - there likely isn’t a one of them that’d trust the Federal Government to provide them with three hots and a cot (that is, food and shelter), but they all have faith that somehow FedGov can protect their very lives against terrorists.

Of course, the self-described liberals are no better. They don’t think Bush is doing enough to protect them, or he’s doing too much, or he’s a Republican, for crying out loud! and what about Halliburton and on and on and on, as if this were the very first time that fascism had reared its head in American politics. If the Republicans are yapping like those nasty little dogs that women like to tart up with ribbons and talk baby-talk at, the Democrats are chattering like chipmunks at the campsite. You know, the ones that are cute and all during the day, but when you get up the next morning, you find they’ve eaten all the way around the outside of the loaf of bread, and left teeth marks in the soap? In the soap for God’s sake! What, are they little striped crackheads or something?

So my advice at this point is that you oughtn’t take advice from chipmunks or Republicans. Maybe you oughta dig out an old book or two and try and figure out how to save yourself. I mean, you don’t really think that the War On Terror is going to be any more of a success than the War On Drugs or the War on Poverty, do you? Matter of fact, it seems to me that government intervention creates poverty and makes any given drug “problem” worse. Unless the problem in question is the fact that the local drive-through weed, liquor and firearms store is always out of BC Bud at the same freakin’ time that they’re out of armor-piercing AK-47 rounds. FedGov’s got that one licked, I guess.

And speaking of firearms, getting yourself one or two might not be a bad idea, these days. John Ross has a thing or two to say about this that you might want to hear. After all, if terrorists really do end up nuking something somewhere, your local police are going to be too busy protecting the Mayor and running around arresting folks to look after you. And of-course-it-goes-without-saying-but-I’ll-say-it-anyway but if it still happens to be legal to purchase weapons from private individuals at gun shows in your neck of the woods, doing so might allow you to keep those weapons a little bit longer.

And weapons confiscation is something that all governments get around to, sooner or later. I mean c’mon, who the hell wants armed taxpayers? President Bush won’t do it first thing after the next spectacular terrorist attack, there being all those Ay-rabs runnin’ around uncaged, but it’s probably not far down President Kerry’s To Do list. And it isn’t like the average voting gunowner would do squat about it, either - they’d be too busy saying that they told us so and it’d all be different if Bush were president and Democrats are evil incarnate and we ought to stand behind the President in time of war. Well, maybe not that last, since we ought to only stand behind the President if he’s a Republican. If he’s a Democrat, we ought to make jokes about him.

No, your neighbors aren’t likely to help you out too much, either. Best to keep the fallout shelter and guns and food and water stocks (you know you’ll have to eat and drink and er, um, the other, right?) out of sight. Folks have the nasty habit of lynching other folks when they really, really, want to, and being the only one in town with clean drinking water might get you just that.

But it’s almost academic in any case. A terrorist attack with a nuke is unlikely. How much so? Lemme lick my finger and test the wind - very unlikely. And it’d almost certainly be with a handfull of bombs or less, and they’d almost certainly be directed against major targets. So if you live in Calaveras, California or Sedro Wooley, Washington, you’re probably quite safe. In other words, don’t go maxing your credit cards to buy a bomb-proof yurt or something.

The bottom line, as always, is this: “I said the government couldn’t help you. I didn’t say that the government couldn’t hurt you.” You’re on your own, and the AmSoc collective couldn’t care less if you and yours vanished in a puff of vapor for Allah or not. If you’re at all concerned about crazed Islamists, you need to get off your duff and do something about your predicament other than pretending that those utter idiots in D.C. are going to do something for you.

Which they can’t. But as I’ve said, they can do something to you. That is all.

If you think the greatest danger to your life is from Islamic radicals, then try this thought experiment:

Go burn a Koran on your front lawn. Then, go sit on your front lawn holding your shiny, new, unregistered machinegun.

Question: Who will come after you first, the jihadists, or your local police?

My employer just distributed this missive almost in entirety to all employees. It begins:

How often do we hear, “It’s nobody’s business but my own, if I don’t wear my seat belt.”? How many of us believe the decision to wear or not to wear a safety belt is a personal matter that has no impact on anyone else?

Nothing could be further from the truth. It is our business because the decision of others not to buckle up hits us all right in the pocket book. The people who do the right thing and wear seat belts are paying for those who don’t — particularly since many people injured while not wearing a safety belt have inadequate insurance or none at all.

The problem is not that people might make poor decisions. Some people always will. The problem is that others, through taxation, are forced to pay for the consequences of those poor decisions.

Do these do-badders not realize that their “reasoning” justifies anything up to and beyond requiring everyone to stay perpetually inside their fireproof padded rooms, as long as it made them safer? I doubt it.

The worst bit of convoluted non-reasoning:

In addition, more states must work to close current gaps in child passenger safety laws. These gaps leave children of certain ages unprotected while riding in vehicles.

As far as I know, parents may choose to protect their children by strapping them in even when it is not required. The laws protect nobody.

Jeffrey Rowland of WIGU has a bad day:

But then I noticed a while ago when I was making a sandwich that the whole-grain earth bread (yeah I eat carbs but I also excercise, you trend-mongering morons) that I buy from that filthy hippy store had a CORE OF MOLD. My first instinct was to drive down there and start throwing rocks and shit through the windows. When the hippies came outside to reason with me peacefully, I would do a hellacious spinning back kick across both their faces, knocking them out cold, and then I would tie them up and put them in the trunk of my car. I would drive them to my secret cave with a boom box playing only songs that are not about being environmental, like “Spraying Gasoline All Over the Place For Fun” by Gasoline-Powered Windmills With Clubs On The Blades That Hit Baby Seals or “Mother Nature Is A Slut” by Blowtorches On Icebergs. I would sprinkle the bread with water and leave it under the counter for three days and when the hippies started having their bitchy little anemic fits, I would offer them the bread and nothing more.

I began to calm slightly, motivated mostly by exhaustion induced by a delightful 45-minute dry-heaving extravaganza. I went to sleep. I am asleep now, I think.

Anyway the point is look at everything before you eat it and don’t trust hippies ever.

One of Rowland’s LiveJournal commenters added this profound insight:

What’s red and orange and looks good on hippies?

Fire.

There is little to add to this grim tale of patchouli-scented betrayal, except to note that Gasoline-Powered Windmills With Clubs On The Blades That Hit Baby Seals would be a good name for Beck’s band.

Good news on the home front:

PORTLAND, ORE. - A man and his 12-year-old daughter spent the last four years living in a remote hillside in Portland’s Forest Park, police said.

…

The man and girl told police they had lived in the park for four years. The pair appeared clean, well-fed and healthy, [Police Officer] Barkley said, and the girl was well-spoken beyond her years.

Why good news? Because the above cop acted like in a very un-coplike manner:

Police persuaded them to leave the camp, promising help them find food and shelter. The pair spent two nights at a homeless shelter. Barkley found the man a job and a place for the two to live on a friend’s horse farm in Yamhill County.

…

“The amazing part of this was the fact that Sergeant Barkley really evaluated what was best for these people,” North Precinct Cmdr. Scott Anderson said. “Sometimes police would be a little quicker to hand things off to state workers. But instead … he saw this through to the end.”

You’ll note that the police brass called this “amazing”.

More:

In fact, the girl received a very good education from her father while living among the trees. Officials said the girl, who would be normally in 7th grade, is at a 12th grade equivalency.

“When we interviewed this little girl, she was very impressive. She really was very responsible, and she really looked as though she was way advanced in her years,” said Portland Police Cmdr. Scott Anderson said.

That is, a twelve year old girl who was homeschooled from thrift-store books in a survivialist’s shanty in the forest by a single parent is the equivalent of a public high school graduate.

What does it add up to? The Endarkenment’s engulfing us like a tide of rotten honey, but there are still decent folks out there in the world. I’m very glad that just this once, things went right. Good for Frank and Ruthie, and good for Officer Barkley.

Since Lopez sees fit to repost splurge from Antiwar.com, I thought I’d do so as well. Antiwar.com is a very educational website, indeed. Back last year, the paleoconservative’s best-beloved rentboy, Justin Raimondo, was waxing ominous about the Zionistical threat

I was working out in the gym the other day, when Richard Rodriguez, a friend of mine, came in, greeted me, and remarked: “I told some friends of mine about your book on the Israeli connection to 9/11, and do you know what they told me?”

“Uh. Nope.”

“They said that you’d better watch your back.”

I laughed. But Richard looked dead serious.

Raimondo bid fair defiance to potential Hebraic hit squads with these stirring words:

So, no, I’m not afraid that they’ll get me in an alley somewhere. After all those hours in the gym, I’m pretty buffed out, bud, and those muscles aren’t just for decoration. But, just in case this UPI story is true � and Dagan “the gun” is more “creative” than I’d like to think � I’ll be watching my back all the same�

And now, all this time later, I go over to Antiwar.com and what do I find? Justin Raimondo is still alive!

Those lazy Israelis!

The Giant Pulsating Brain still pulsates at the centre of the Ultraworld; blood-drenched foliage is banished in the pure vibrations of cosmic ambient goodness and the Happy Tree Friends are rescued from their evil creators.

In short, the Orb has made another album.

Ambient pioneers The Orb will release their album Bicycles and Tricycles on The Hexus, via Cooking Vinyl, in May 2004. Long considered the originators of ambient house music and catalysts to the rise of electronic music in the charts, The Orb are now celebrated for a career of deftly free-spirited, good-humoured musical creativity.

See, Schnieder? No one has to die.

(Knowing knowers will note that Dr. Alex Patterson is almost certainly holding up a Apple iBook in this picture. See, Beck - all the cool kidz have Macs.)

Rumsfail (rums� fa-l), v., 1.To self-destruct, melt-down or implode under the weight of one’s own arrogance. 2. To fail spectacularly, particularly in matters of warfare or diplomacy; to plunge into chaos. 3. Absolute, unmitigated disaster of national or international proportions and consequence; policy failure so utterly abject and miserable as to approach the realm of the epic. “Although long considered to be a costly and murderous fiasco, the prisoner abuse scandal revealed the war in Iraq to be nothing short of a rumsfailure.” See also:
“Karma”

Via the Antiwar.com Blog.