Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Paul Bucher Needs a Drink

This column in the Washington Post RE: parents serving their own (and other peoples') children alcohol in supervised situations (and the undeserved legal hassle they can expect as a result) has generated plenty of interesting commentary; I won't try to top the posts on Reason's Hit & Run and Obsidian Wings.

However, as I'm always on the lookout for the local angle, I would like to point out that, of all the cretinous busybodies in the original article, the biggest asshole appears to be a Wisconsinite:

"The Virginia case mentioned above is troubling for another reason: The cops raided that home without a search warrant. This is becoming more and more common in jurisdictions with particularly militant approaches to underage drinking. A prosecutor in Wisconsin popularized the practice in the late 1990s when he authorized deputies to enter private residences without warrants, 'by force, if necessary,' when there was the slightest suspicion of underage drinking. For such 'innovative' approaches, Paul Bucher won plaudits from Mothers Against Drunk Driving, which awarded him a place in the 'Prosecutors as Partners' honor roll on the MADD Web site."

Emphasis mine. Man, this Paul Bucher guy sounds like a serious asshole. What else is he up to, I wonder?

Apparently he plans to run for state Attorney General - lovely.

He opposes current AG Peg Lautenschlager's endorsement of a recent ACLU suit against the state of Wisconsin which demands that the state pay domestic partner benefits for state employees. He does? Oh yes he does. Apparently he thinks that "[t]he State’s taxpayers actually had a right to expect that the Attorney General would represent the interests of the majority of the citizens of this state. Is that too much to ask?" I'm sure that his position is solely motivated by concerns for legal propriety and is in no way designed to court the votes of empty-headed homophobes.

And, finally, he has a blog. The 'comments' function seems to be disabled for some reason; I'm sure its purely accidental, as any aspiring public official would surely welcome the input of his potential consistuants. I'd put him up on the blogroll but, gosh, I think I've just about run out of room.

In closing, let me quote my favorite passage from the mysterious von's post on Obsidian Wings; surely, it would be a dereliction of duty for an alcohol-themed blog to not highlight these words:

"...America remains utterly wacked-out about alcohol.  If ever a nation needed a stiff drink, this one does.  It will not be the end of the world if your teenage kid has a beer in your presence; nor will Western Civilization (further) decline as a result of a couple of Zimas at a slumber party.

"Since I realize that our peculiar brand of neo-Puritanism is totally the fault of my Protestant forefathers, I'd like to offer the following on behalf of my people:

"Sorry."


What he said.

The Onion-Flavored Rings Almost Rock My Socks Off!

I'm always complaining about the lack of respectable rock 'n' roll shows here in Madison; its something of a hobby of mine. So you can bet I was excited when, wandering down Williamson St., I noticed a flyer stuck to someone's mailbox announcing that the Onion Flavored Rings were going to play at 10:00 at the Nottingham co-op. I guess the hour was a little late, but, then again, I had (and have) no particular reason or motivation to show up on time for work tomorrow.

But it was all too good to be true. A quick check at the OFR's website put a stop to all the excitement: the show happened at 10:00PM yesterday. It looks as though I won't be attending my first r'n'r show of the summer until, uh, mid-September.

Official AlcO-bEAt Alco-hol for 8/9/05

Point Special Lager

I like Point a great deal but, I must admit, its probably mostly for sentimental reasons. Growing up and learning to drink in a town not half an hour away from Stevens Point, Point beer was always cheap, accessible and plentiful. The fact that it was the closest major(-ish) brewery in north-cenral Wisconsin stirs my nascent regional pride to a degree that is probably undeserved (and if I really cared about local brews I'd be downing whatever 60-year-old unopened bottles of Red Ribbon that are still out there). Drinking it today, I detect a very Pabst-y taste, always a good thing. I say check it out; you can get a six-pack of bottles at Star Liquor for $4.99.

It's a Dan's World

I'd just like to point out that the temporarily-Dan-Savage-helmed Daily Dish is a real hoot and you should check it out, if you haven't already. He's only going to be there for a week, so hurry up!

(I know, like Andrew Sullivan needs me to round up readers for him...)

Monday, August 08, 2005

The Boy Looked at Julie

Hey! Look! It's Julie Burchill!

The whole reason I even started reading the Guardian online was because Julie Burchill wrote a weekly column. For awhile after she left for the Times, I mysteriously wasn't able to access her columns (even with the help of the indispensible BugMeNot). But now, for some reason, they're up! For those of you who just can't get enough of the author of the best book on punk rock ever written (well, 50% of the authors of the b.b.o.p.r.e.w.), check these out:

Yep, the Hijab Does a Wonderful Job Protecting Women

A Truckload of Bitchery is the Healthy Option

Actors? Give Me the Drama of BB Any Day

Why Should We Tolerate These Islamofascists Who Hate Us All?

Enjoy the truckload of bitchery.


UPDATE: Well, look what four seconds worth of Googling will get you: here's an even larger selection of her Times columns, courtesy of the Unofficial Julie Burchill Page of Ambition and Modernity. Look for said page -which contains plenty of extra Julie from all previous and current eras - over on the blogroll.

So Does That Mean Blair = Dr. Doom, Bush = Galactus, Howard = I dunno, the Mole Man...?

Grouchy Muslim terrorists in Great Britain are motivated solely by their opposition to the Iraq war, right?* Just ask the "Saviour Sect:"

"The reporter became a member of the sect three weeks before the July 7 bombings. From the start he was taught that it was his duty to destroy the kuffar. Moderate Muslims who did not believe in the overthrow of the British government and its replacement by an Islamic state were held in equal disdain.

"Within days of joining, he witnessed seven Saviour Sect members beating up a member of the moderate Young Muslim Organisation in an East End street because they believed he had insulted their version of Islam.

"...

"Speaking to a group of teenagers and families, he
[Omar Brooks, whoever that is, although I'd like to point out that you don't often run into a guy whose first name is 'Omar' and whose last name is 'Brooks.' Wasn't it George Carlin who observed that 'you never meet a lot of Chinese guys named Rusty?' I wonder if Mr. Brooks - Omar - ever heard that one. Anyway...] declared it was imperative for Muslims to 'instil terror into the hearts of the kuffar' and added: 'I am a terrorist. As a Muslim of course I am a terrorist.'

"The 30-year-old, who claims to have had military training in Pakistan, said he did not want to go to Allah while sleeping in his bed 'like an old woman'. Instead: 'I want to be blown into pieces with my hands in one place and my feet in another.'"


Well, good luck with that. I for one sincerly hope that Mr. Brooks - y'know, Omar - gets his wish, although I'd prefer something a little more exciting than a boring ol' suicide attack. I'm thinking something along the lines of, say, being shot nine times by members of the London PD, being shot several more times by the US Marines (wouldn't you better be able to serve the ummah in Iraq?) or - dare we dream? - spontaneous human combustion. All the same, Brooks - I mean Omar - ought not to knock the old lady lifestyle until he tries it. I've been behaving in a manner befitting an old woman for years now - adding cats to my household, not leaving my apartment, peeking through the blinds at all those damn kids in the neighborhood - and I personally can't recommend it highly enough.

I haven't even bothered to reproduce the most offensive part of this story. You really wanna see it? You sure? Alright, you asked for it:

"In the immediate aftermath [of the July 7 London attacks] the sect’s leader, Omar Bakri Mohammed, said: 'For the past 48 hours I’m very happy.' Two weeks later he referred to the bombers as the 'fantastic four'.

Did you catch it? This douchebag favorably compared a bunch of homicidal, superstitious dipshits to Mr. Fantastic, Human Torch, Invisible Woman and the Thing!!! What I wanna know is: where the fuck are Avi Arad and Stan "Thee Man" Lee and, more importanly, their lawyers? I think there's been a serious breach of intellectual property rights here, and someone deserves to get sued over this.

I think Bakri knows that he's in some hot water with this one.

"Yesterday Bakri said he had no connections to a group in east London but said that he did attend prayers and preach to up to 15 people. He denied using the words 'fantastic four'."


[via Hak Mao]

*This is not to insinuate that every British Muslim (or non-British Muslim, or non-British non-Muslim, etc.) opposed to the war is a potential homicidal maniac. Blah blah blah, you know what I mean...

Courtesy of the Green, Amber and Red (The Angry Pedestrian)

I realize that, especially to people who live in large cities and not in the hinterlands, this complaint will seem downright bizarre. No doubt the crankiest motorists in the US terrorize the roadways of LA, Chicago or Seattle (Why Seattle? I've heard several horror stories about Seattle drivers. Maybe the rainy season throws 'em all into a powerful collective bout of seasonal affective disorder, maybe they're still grumpy about the Fastbacks breaking up...); a pedestrian is vastly less likely to be killed by a motorist here as there. When it does happen, it probably won't be the result of malice or road rage but simple geriatric fogginess.

That said, none of the many sins that Madison drivers commit piss me off more than this:

So I'm walking down the street. I come to an unmarked crosswalk. Not even a particularly busy one, say, I dunno, the corner of East Mifflin and Ingersoll. A car's coming, and I remember what my mother told me to do in that situation. I wait, figuring it doesn't matter whether I get to the other side of the street in 7 seconds or 13 seconds.

Now a normal driver would just zip right along through the intersection; the only reason they'd pay any attention to me at all would be to make sure I didn't absent-mindedly wander into their path. But - and this only ever happens to me in Madison - very often I'll get a special driver, one who is sensitive to my needs as a pedestrian. They recognize that, look, we all wanna get across the street here, and its really just an accident of fate that they happen to be in a car and I happen to be on foot. And why is it fair that they, the motorist, always gets to go first? Why are their needs more important than mine? What, just because they're in a heavy steel machine moving at a high rate of speed and I'm just a soft, pink, slow, fragile creature? How fair is that? They sure wouldn't like it if the shoe was on the other foot...

How does this concerned citizen address this grievously unequal situation? Often as not, they'll STOP RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE INTERSECTION (sometimes screeching to a halt), right in front of where I'm waiting patiently and, with a grin that says Hey, man, we're all in this together, waves me through.

Despite what these lambs may have intended, this usually adds several seconds to my crossing, as its not always immediately clear if they're just slowing down, or turning, or pausing to get their bearings or what. Also, its a good bet that there are cars coming from the other direction driven by people with less immediate concern for my feelings, which means I've got to wait anyway. If I'm really lucky, there'll be cars BEHIND the first driver, each one piloted by someone who wants to go home to their families, get to work on time, go to the mall and drink a giant cup of soda, drive around town aimlessley for an hour or do anything but sit in the road and get roped into this nincompoop's charitable activity. And finally, there's me, suddenly the center of much unwelcome attention, under pressure to cross as quickly as possible so we can all get on with out lives and resentful of this dickhead and his need to demonstrate what a swell guy he is.

I always hurry to the other side, embarrassed and wanting to put an end to the whole scene. But someday I'm gonna flip him the bird, or kick his bumper as he finally goes by, or toss a rock through his windshield while he sits there or just wait. I wonder how long I'd have to stand on the corner pretending not to see before he got the hint: Waitaminute, this guy is a fricking adult, I bet he knows how to make it across the street without the timely intervention some good samaritan in a Yukon...

Of course, knowing this place, he'd just get out and offer to hold my hand...

"They played their songs, and it was awesome"

Sigh. Normally, any kind of news involving 1) Teengenerate re-uniting and 2) playing shows in the US would also involve joyful spasms and shudders and emanations on the part of yours truly. Such news arrived earlier this summer but with a cruel twist: there were to be only two shows, both in NYC, both during a time when I wouldn't be able to make it out.

So it looks like I'll have to be content with my old records, my memories of the time I saw 'em in Green Bay (Novemeber 1995, still the best show I've ever seen or will ever likely see), and this report, from which the headline is taken. Come back to the midwest!

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