Eight Feet Deep

A former colleague once told me of a theory he heard about President George W. Bush. That theory was that perhaps Bush’s religious beliefs had led him to start the war in Iraq in order to hasten the apocalypse and, thus, the return of Christ. While it would not surprise me that some hold the view that should happen, I just couldn’t see GW harboring such a belief. But that was then and this is now.

It seems like every day another piece of the White House comes flying off in what seems like a never-ending s**tstorm surrounding George W. Bush. He reminds me of the “Peanuts” character Pigpen, except turmoil and potential disaster hovers around Bush instead of grime.

The latest revelations include Bush’s declassifying of intelligence documents which may have set the stage for outing undercover CIA operative Valerie Plame. Scooter Libby, formerly the vice president’s chief of staff, stands indicted in connection with this outing. Special prosecutor Patrick Fitzgerald has filed documents that indicate what has been repeatedly conjectured in the media, which is that the purposeful leaks from those intelligence documents were used for political purposes to get back at war critic Amb. Joe Wilson, Plame’s husband.

Then there is Seymour Hersh’s story in “The New Yorker” that says the Bush administration, over the objections of Pentagon leaders, has a war plan for Iran that includes deploying nuclear bunker-busting bombs.

Combine all of that with invading Iraq on shaky premises as well as allowing the government to spy on its own citizens without a warrant and you have one scary-ass goober in the White House.

Many pundits say the mid-term congressional elections will be a referendum on the Iraq war. Perhaps it should be a referendum on whether the congressional member seeking office has the spine to vote on articles of impeachment should they be drawn up. I still say impeachment of Bush sounds far-fetched. It’s just not as far as it once seemed. It’s like Nixon was reincarnated into a much more pleasant shell but one that is twice as sinister. Like John Fogerty said: “I see a bad moon a-rising.”

It had looked as if I could hit the snooze button all the way through tomorrow’s runoff elections here in Beaumont, Texas. But alas, something happened over the weekend to breathe life into the sole local campaign on the ballot and it happened right under my nose.

Around noon on Saturday I walked the three blocks down to the ATM machine on Broadway and found a flock of fire trucks on the next block. (What is it with fires in my neighborhood lately?) A long, thick, yellow hose, called a “supply line” by firefighters, lay in the street. I walked over to the next block, which is Liberty Avenue. I could see that a building — I thought it was a house — had received some damage from fire and smoke.

It wasn’t until I watched the news that evening that I learned the structure that burned was the office of attorney Marsha Normand. Normand is in the Democratic runoff election with former federal prosecutor John Stevens for Criminal District Court judge in Jefferson County. What’s more, even though arson had not been cited as a cause for the fire, Normand said she believes the fire is politically motivated. How exciting if that was the case! How embarrassing if it was not!

Where there’s smoke … there’s smoke.

Most likely I was preoccupied this morning with an overpowering aggravation that was set into motion by several phone calls to the local VA clinic. So that is why I probably didn’t hear the cacophony of sirens wailing that were from Beaumont Fire Department trucks. They responded to a fire about a block east of my place on North Street. I just happened to walk outside to stretch and found an actual hairy-legged happening was taking place just down the street.

The above photo was about all I got and what little smoke was left kind of obscures a firefighter. He incidentally looked at me like I was nuts because I was taking a photo. Or perhaps he looked at me like I was nuts because he is good judge of character. It’s got to be one or the other, or something else.

A neighbor across the street from the house that caught fire told me — while taking drags off a Swisher Sweet — that the occupant of the home left something on the stove and then went back to bed. That can’t be a good thing. Fortunately, she woke up and saw all the smoke then called for the fire department. I am sure it’s bad enough having a smoky house. In fact, I know it is. But the situation could’ve been so much worse.

Back in the old days we used to call this a ‘record player.’

Sometimes it is difficult to tell whether television commercials targeting a certain age group want that group to relive their glory days or to just make those of that age gloomy over being so damned old.

Prompting my thoughts about this was a 70s-theme party I attended this weekend as well as hearing a TV commercial this morning.

The party was fun even though a lot of the music played was disco including the dreaded “Disco Duck.” I even danced, which had the friend with whom I attended the party wondering if hell had actually frozen over since she had never seen me dance in the almost four years we’ve known each other. (I imagine once she saw me dance she realized why I don’t do it but once every score or so).

As for the TV commercial this morning, it featured the music of Iron Butterfly’s classic “In-a-Gadda-Da-Vida” as well as a psychedelic scene. Curiously, the ad was for financial services for Fidelity Investments. That company has also used for background music KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Shake Your Booty” as well as “Changes” by David Bowie. Just as an aside, I don’t think that in my wildest visions could I ever picture my placing those two songs in the same sentence. But I just did.

Of course, it is sometimes difficult to judge the age group a company is looking for when they use songs from the 60s or 70s in their ads. Electric Light Orchestra’s catchy “Mr. Blue Sky” has been used for a number of commercials and movie trailers including an ad in 2004 for the VW Beetle. I don’t know, maybe Volkswagen thinks people in their 60s want to relive their youth in a new version of the Beetle. I wouldn’t think so but that’s why I am not in advertising because I don’t know these things. By the way, you can dive off into the depths of commercial theme music at a Web site called “What’s That Called.”

As I said, I don’t know what ideas bounce around in the heads of advertising geniuses. But I would think it could be a risky proposition using music that recalls when one was shaking it on the disco floor or taking a bong hit in the back of a van. The memories recalled could be pleasant ones or they could just make you feel like you are a relic.

This all doesn’t matter to me because older songs generally bring me a positive feeling. There are exceptions, of course, such as whether I have heard them every day of my life on the radio such as “Stairway to Heaven.” It’s funny. That is one song I haven’t heard as a commercial theme song lately, if ever. Maybe those ad types know what they’re doing after all.

The reason I am dizzy is from all of the spin generated by Scott McClellan today over why President Bush can leak classified information and no one else can. Scotty’s answer:

MR. McCLELLAN: The President can declassify information if he chooses.

I was disappointed no one asked Scotty this follow up question: Does his declassification power extend to releasing the plans to build a nuclear bomb if he so chooses? I’m sure Scotty would say that’s a silly question. But is it really?