The War on Terror

Paranoia is a defiant charge to a cold, unfeeling cosmos: "Hear me! I exist! I'm important!" Because after all, if someone is actually orchestrating the chaos of the universe against you personally, then you do matter. When no one seems to care anymore, at least enemies give you the comforting illusion that you count.
-From the Notebooks of Doctor Brain by Minister Faust

Change

Barack Obama has had a Gettysburg moment. The Virginia primary was a strategic victory and although the campaign hurtles forward the outcome is not in doubt. You can hear it in Obama's victory speech in Wisconsin on Tuesday night in which he referred to John McCain but not Hillary Clinton. It is precisely because she so desperately needs a win in Texas that Senator Clinton will lose. The Giuliani camp used the same spurious logic in Florida. The race is not static and each success for Obama and defeat for Clinton becomes amplified. If the Obama onslaught was going to be abated it had to happen in the land of Jefferson.

The next important step is the choice of a running mate. The person can't be a milquetoast copy of Hubert Humphrey. Nor can it be a potentially distractive overwhelming figure like Dick Cheney. The Vice President should know where the bodies are buried and be able to provide reasonable cover. I recommend Chuck Hagel.

The Republican senator from Nebraska is a moderate not known for vitriol. He is a Vietnam War veteran who adamantly opposed the war. This would be a superb maneuver to outflank McCain and secure a firm grasp on independents and dissatisfied Republicans. I hope Obama and company will thoroughly consider him. This would be a bold and provocative selection commensurate with the theme of Change We Can Believe In.

Everybody Is a Star

"Playing it safe? calls Buster, with just enough humor and politeness so as not to be considered an egregious breech of etiquette by anyone but me. And although Marco is my friend, I still haven't dismissed the notion that this is all a setup. And I haven't really swung a club in a year. And I wonder if they can see my legs shaking. Even the black kid is watching, and I can't help but think that he has something invested in this moment too-from a perverse claim to a caddy shack bragging rights to the complete emancipation of himself and his people. And I know, as I look down the fairway one last time, that to them, if it is bad, my first swing will be my last-the one-no matter how well I play after. There can be no redemption, not for him, not for me, nor for those to whom-because of some treacherous failure or triumph of synapse or courage (whichever you believe in) the many thousands gone, here and yet to be-we are linked. And I hear them, be it by spirit, madness, or some ventriloquist's trick. I hear them pleading, exhorting me to hit the ball straight and long, just as I hear the founder rasping from his canvass on the great oak wall- "Swing, nigger, swing!"-and his brothers hissing in unison, "Amen." It's too much. It's always been too much, even divested of all I love. I can't take it anymore. I just can't take it. I try my mantra-I need to hit the ball right. Head down. Go slow. I swing. Up then down. I hear nothing, but I'm standing erect at the follow-through and the ball is like a supersonic missile, ripping through air. Silent, then the sounds: the whoosh of the club past my ear, the sharp click of metal on hard plastic, then the ball flying with a high turbine wail in its wake. It carries the ridge and drops out of sight. "Goddamn," snorts Dan-almost hushed. Buster says nothing. Both caddies grin stupidly. The black one snaps out of it and reaches for my club. I wave him off because I can tell I'm about to cry.
-Man Gone Down by Michael Thomas

Et Tu, Tavis?

I think that we each realized for ourselves that talent and potential were both, in the end, irrelevant, and that winning, and winning big, which required some dark manipulation of mind, body, and soul, was all that mattered.
-Man Gone Down by Michael Thomas

Perusals

Legal History Blog is a concisely named but elegantly composed production from Mary Dudziak and Alfred Brophy . They have brought to attention a compilation of upcoming book releases related to Black studies. The eclectic offerings appear quite rigorous and would make a fine addition to any library.

Yes She Can

Stand Your Ground

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
Mark Antony in The Tragedy of Julius Caesar