A Healthy Alternative to Work

There's a new Turret sports commentary up, penned by yours truly...

Florida trip gets ugly for family, Steelers.

Enjoy.

Click Here if you think Brogonzo is a gibbering fool

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Someone needs to remind me once in a while that inebriated karaoke (is there another kind?) on a weeknight isn’t a hot idea. I’m still trying to catch up on sleep from the Trip to Florida, and singing duet versions of Lit songs into the early hours of the morning didn’t help.

I suppose it’s story time, since the trip back to Knox was pretty eventful. I was informed that my flight to Louisville was delayed when I landed in Charlotte, so my first move was to head to one of the airport bars for a smoke and a drink.

There were some marine recruits milling around in the bar, trying to get a few smokes in before they got on the plane to Parris Island, and I did my best to fill them in on how horrible boot camp was going to be.

“Look man,” I said, “Just don’t give the Drills any reason to know your name. If they know your name, it’s because you fucked up.”

I wound my way up the E concourse to my supposed departure gate, and learned that the Louisville flight had been cancelled.

“Landing conditions in Louisville are bad,” said a fat guy standing in line.

I called up Salemonz, since he was at the Louisville airport, waiting to take off for Washington, D.C.

“There isn’t a cloud in the sky here,” he said to me over the cell phone. “It’s completely clear.”

Apparently, the Bullshit Fairy had decided to visit me today.

U.S. Airways gave me a “Distressed Traveler” voucher for a “discount” on a local hotel, since the next flight to Kentucky wasn’t taking off till the next morning. Apparently, comping hotel rooms for people who get screwed out of flights isn’t part of the playbook anymore.

My solution to the situation was to close out the airport bars. I found myself talking to a pretty 29-year-old account manager named Angela from Akron, Ohio, who waited through about an hour and a half of scintillating conversation to inform me that she was married. How long, O Lord, how long?

After boozing myself into a state of hilarity at the airport, I hopped on the shuttle to go the hotel. It was pouring rain in Charlotte – remnants of Tropical Storm Jeanne, which had previously kept my family and me condo-bound in Tampa.

The room cost $50, and included a bed, bathroom, and television. Going to sleep didn’t sound like much fun to me, as an aspiring gonzo journalist in a strange city, so I went to the hotel bar downstairs, ordered a martini, and asked the barkeep (who was dressed in a red Vegas lounge suit, complete with black bowtie and cummerbund) what there was to do nearby.

“Well,” he said, “There’s a place called ‘Jock and Jill’s’ down the road from here.”

That sounded great – sort of like a cross between a sports bar and meat market – so I determined to get myself there. The night was wearing on, and there wouldn’t be much time to burn. Waiting for a taxi was out of the question, so I set off into the inky black downpour outside.

In my defense, the directions I received were pretty vague. The long and short of it is that after trudging over hill and dale, highway and byway, I wound up in a parking garage talking to a security guard in a squad car. I was certain he was going to arrest me for public intoxication and disturbing the peace, but instead, he gave me a ride to another place in the commercial park. When I got out, I still had no idea where I was, and I was still soaked to the bone, and now I was starting to get pissed. Jock and Jill’s was nowhere in sight.

At some point, probably while I was tramping down the dark road, I realized that I was supposed to be getting up at 5:30 to catch a ride back to the airport, and that I was incredibly stupid for having decided to search for this bar in the first place. I found my way to another hotel and got them to call my hotel’s shuttle service to pick me up, which is exactly what they did.

I sacked out, only to wake up three hours later. The clothes I’d worn the last night were dripping wet, but I stuffed them into my backpack, took a hot shower, and trundled dizzily off to the airport shuttle.

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… For now.

A bit late, but here's my Sports Commentary from this past week:

Don't like football? Try Gator Hunting.

Enjoy.

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Ahh… vacation. I’m down near Tampa, Florida, in a “planned community” for persons over the age of 55, meaning that normal Gonzo hang-outs such as bars, nightclubs, and other seedy establishments are well beyond the range of our community-supplied golf cart.

But that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been fun. I’ve been hanging out with the family a lot, which is always great, these days. We don’t get all together much anymore. The only missing member this weekend is BroAnimal, who is exploring Europe as part of Franciscan University’s Austrian program. I hear he’s in Scotland now, looking for the land of our ancestors, the MacArthurs.

As the weather here in Florida becomes ironically more Scottish by the minute, I’m still enjoying myself immensely. Yesterday, we tooled over the causeway up to St. Petersburg and hung out on the beaches on John’s Pass, Treasure Island, and Tierra Verde. While my siblings (including the indomitable BroRizzo) splashed around in the wake, I got myself a beautiful sunburn reading Tom Wolfe’s “Hooking Up” on my stomach on the beach. Some wiseacre took a photo, if I get my hands on it I’ll post it.

Later, Rizzo took our younger sisters, Maggie and Alanna, on a jetskiing expedition around the John’s Pass harbor while the parents and I drank a series of margaritas on the boardwalk of Scully’s, a seafood shack on the boardwalk.

The Wolfe book has really been sinking in a lot. He talks a lot about the impact technology has had on American culture in the 20^th and 21^st centuries, but one of my favorite pieces so far has been one titled “In the Land of the Rococo Marxists.” A detailed analysis will come later, but his point is that in the absence of a proletariat to feel sorry for (our plumbers, electricians, and concrete workers vacation in the Caribbean), American “intellectuals” (who, by definition, need someone to point a finger at and are inexplicably drawn toward “Communist Manifesto”) have invented a whole new group – or groups, as it’s turned out – to serve as the pariah for the machinations of the “powers that be.”

These groups, far from being disenfranchised workers, fall into the pity category simply by some element of their being – by being female, or black, or homosexual; or perhaps by their choice of profession, maybe prostitution or pornography.

Naturally, those intellectuals who want to drive Marx as far as they can take each of these special-interest groups and wave them over their heads, screaming disdainfully about how Those In Charge are becoming richer and more powerful on the backs of these poor, neglected, discriminated-against groups.

There’s so much more, but I’m at a computer lab in this retirement community now, and some octogenarian is mumbling for help because he can’t figure out how to win “Solitaire” on the Dell he’s settled in front of.

The rain has started – apparently, we’re on the edge of Hurricane Jeanne’s projected path. We’ve spent plenty of time on the beach, and all that’s left now is to smoke Camels and drink the beer Rizzo bought earlier and try to keep the TV off of Fox News.

There’s really not much more to tell at this point… Maggie and I are going to get back into the golf cart and trundle back to the condo soon. I’ll have more tomorrow if the Old People keep this place open on Sundays.

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I'm off to Tampa, Florida, tomorrow bright and early -- I'll try to get a post in prior to leaving, but if I can't, have a great rest of the week, suckers! I'll pat a manatee for you all. I'll be back Monday night (Monday evening central time).

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I've been a bit distracted over the past 24 hours, and I almost forgot to weigh in on this issue:

CBS and Dan Rather: Bush memo a "mistake" on CBSnews.com

There will be two reactions from the far left on this one - bloggers will either drop the issue entirely and pretend they never latched on to the puportedly incriminating memoranda or they'll contend that the memos' validity has nothing to do with CBS or chief anchor Dan Rather, running on the supposition, I suppose, that if it's damning to President Bush, it must be true (exhibit A: people who believe Michael Moore).

So, cruise on over to politics and see if you notice anything from the lefties on these supposed National Guard memos. It's worth a laugh.

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Tuesdays always run long, but things look particularly bleak today:

Another hostage decapitated
Kerry: Dukakis II?

This is coming on the heels of an announcement we Turret staffers got yesterday. Apparently, we'll be the last military news staff -- and the civilianization we've heard about it going to happen a lot quicker than we'd originally thought.

Our company first sergeant isn't being replaced when he retires next month, and that's basically a sure sign that soldiers are not long for the Knox Army Garrison.

We'll all go our separate ways. Finch is trying to go back to Third COSCOM in Germany, Sgt. Salemonz has his eye on the Chaplains' Corps, and me? Well, I'm single, no dependents, no reason to keep me anywhere in particular... the Magic 8-Ball sees sand in my future. A lot of it.

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Today was a good day for football - a marked change from last week. The Knox Eagles beat the Bethlehem Eagles on their home turf in Bardstown, with the game-winning play being a last-second tie-breaking field goal by Gary Haubert, who also plays striker on the boys' soccer team. He had been missing extra points and goal attempts all through the pre-district schedule (which cost Knox the game against Elizabethtown), and this was the confidence booster he needed, I think.

I just got back from the semi-pro district playoff game - Hardin County Wolverines (our guys - there are a couple soldiers on the team and the defensive coordinators are both NCOs over at 1st Armored Training Brigade) vs. the Circle City Soldiers. They were busy beating the snot out of the Soldiers; when I left at the end of the third, they were up 37-7.

On the way home, I threw my "Quik Punk Fix" mix into the CD deck of the government Stratus (the Road Shark is still in the shop), and cranked up The Misfits' "Saturday Night." If you haven't heard it, it's a '50s-style, Skyliners-esque croon, but with the demented Halloween edge that made the Misfits (and Glen Danzig) famous:

There's 52 ways to murder anyone
One and two are the same
And they both work as well

I'm coming clean for Amy
Julie doesn't scream as well
And the cops won't listen all night

And so maybe I'll be over
Just as soon as I fill them all in

And I can't remember when I saw her last
We were running around and having a blast
But the backseat of the drive-in is so lonely without you
I know when you're home

I was thinking about you
There was something I forgot to say
I was crying on a Saturday night

I was out cruising without you
They were playing our song
Crying on a Saturday night

As the moon becomes the night time
You go viciously, quietly away
I'm sitting in the bedroom where we used to sit and smoke cigarettes
Now I'm watching
Watching you die

Check that out, if you get the chance. Don't know The Misfits? Well, look for the albums with B-movie-type grim reapers on the covers, or guys on stage in skeleton suits. The real trademark, however, is that long "devil forelock" those goons all grew that would reach down to the chin. And of course, there's that "Nightmare on Elm Street" sensibility about all their lyrics.

Anyway, I'm about to head back to the barracks and hit the finance guys up for some beer. Mike usually keeps a full cooler, but he has a tendency to interrupt people when he's in the bag. Oh well. Cheers, all of you... have a great Saturday night!

The loverly rinna set me up with a shiny new gmail account. You’re welcome to send comments my way there, if you don’t feel like commenting or tmailing. Thanks, Rinna!

There are loads of sports to cover this week. The Lady Eagles volleyball team is playing tonight and Saturday, the boys soccer team is playing tonight, the Hardin County Wolverines semi-pro football team is kicking the district playoffs off Saturday, and Headquarters Garrison has yet to give up a point in flag football. Plus, the Knox Eagles are playing in Bethlehem Saturday, there’s AAU Girls’ Basketball, and some hockey nonsense Sunday. It’s going to be a busy weekend for old Gonzo.

But it’s better than having not enough stuff for the section. I hate running wire sports, because it’s invariably about the Army’s NASCAR vehicle or West Point football or the Marksmanship Unit. All very, very boring.

What else is going on? Oh yes – right here on tBlog, I’ve picked up another hater: tBlogger Sloth has seen fit to “take me down a notch.” Apparently, I’ve led a “sheltered” life in the military, and I keep repeating the same thing over and over, just changing the words around. Sloth also thinks that my favorite things to do are drink and look words up in the dictionary to berate people with.

Sloth also takes exception to my complaints about the state of journalism, when all I do is cover sports. Well, Sloth, sadly, I’m not given much of a choice about what my assignment is. If my boss tells me I’m the sports editor one day, well, I’m the sports editor. I didn’t ask for it. And maybe a year within artillery range of the DMZ still falls under “sheltered” in your book.

Hey, that’s fine. Just this week in the Turret there’s an article about our recent readership survey – one respondent had this to say: “Eliminate the callow, mindless, uninformed twits you have posing as reporters.” Now that’s prose.

I’ve mentioned before the flak I got from tBlogger SoMe. I found out later that she hadn’t bothered to read my blog before leveling accusations against me. That certainly took some credence out of her criticism. SoMe has since “recanted,” but I believe it’s more in order to gain sympathy support than to express any real regret for her past bashing of other bloggers.

Does anyone care? I don’t, really – but I think it’s amusing enough to write a quick entry about, particularly since I’m still on hiatus from campaign-watching.

I’m supposed to head down to Florida next week to meet up with the family. Brorizzo will be there, along with the parents and my sisters. Dad is on a mission to go swimming with the manatees. We’ll see how that goes – there are what, seven more hurricanes forming in the Atlantic? With my luck, I’ll get to the airport and the pilot will say, “To hell with you. I’m not flying down there.”

But on the upside, I doubt it will be crowded. More later.

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Powerline's Hindrocket has written a great and tragic piece detailing the current death-rattle of American journalism:

Suicide Bombers and CBS News

Dan Rather, and by extension, CBS News, as well as the Associated Press, have in recent days thrown away their credibility in exchage for partisan political propagandizing. Sure, we've expected news spin for a while now, that's nothing new (George Stephanopoulos, the notorious Clinton-era "spin doctor," now is an anchor for ABC), but this blatant promulgating of outright lies signals the metastasism of a journalistic leukemia.

Jon Stewart of Comedy Central's The Daily Show quipped a little while back that what passes for journalism on television these days is tantamount to getting representatives of Coca-Cola and Pepsi together in a "round table" and having both try to convince the audience that their's is the cola to drink.

"It's the taste of a New Generation." "It's classic!"

Both points, of course, are ultimate data, of course -- you either believe it or you don't, and if you believe one, the other must necessarily be false.

Before I get too far afield, I guess I'll bring this back to where we started. Journalists are supposed to be the chirping canaries in the mineshafts of freedom, and instead of being the "fourth estate" -- acting as a government watchdog and alerting voters of the actions and movements of their elected representatives -- the press corps has decided to take sides, either licking the boots of media moguls (who are becoming fewer and more powerful by the year) or of political ideologies and parties -- as the Associated Press' Scott Lindlaw has been quoted, "My mission is to see that Bush is not re-elected." Do those sound like the words of a unbiased observer, qualified to report in a way that will allow his readers to form their own opinion and assessment of the situation?

This is particularly disheartening for me, since I've more or less thrown my lot in with these clowns. National news is where I want to someday end up (this Army gig is a stepping stone, I hope), and now all I've got to look forward to is acting as a public relations monkey for one or another Machiavellian social machine?

Maybe blogging is the way to go -- there are certainly more people in the blogosphere who are genuinely concerned about what's really going on, and are willing to do the research and writing necessary to bring that to light.

Meanwhile, I predict that mainstream reporters will follow their idol Michael Moore as he pipes his magic tune -- entrancing members of the mainstream media to jump lemming-like over the cliff of descreditation.

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Lots of great news on CNN.com today... anyone up for a recap?

Iraq abuse: U.S. soldier sentenced
U.S. strikes Iraq 'terrorist site'
N. Korea: Demolition caused cloud

Ah yes. Seems like it's going to be a typical Monday, which is to say, lousy.

Plus, over the weekend Iraqi insurgents disabled an M3A3 Bradley Fighting Vehicle, and after the crew escaped, U.S. forces blew up the wrecked vehicle, killing several members of the swarming crowd of cheering anti-Americans.

This will probably become a big deal -- "innocent civilians" being killed by American soldiers always is -- but let's be practical for a second here, folks.

I don't know what has to happen in someone's mind for it to become a good idea for him to go toward a site where armies are exchanging bullets, but that's the plan du jour in Iraq now. Does this strike anyone else as rather dim? If there are tanks^* rolling in some direction, one would think the sensible thing to do would be to move in the other direction.

But no... instead, the plan is to have a political rally at the site of a just-ending battle. Personally, I don't think anyone there should have been surprised at having been blown up.

Ok, I'm sorry. It's Monday morning and I'm a tad grouchy. I'm coming off a rough weekend in sports. My teams didn't win, from Fort Knox all the way to Dallas, and I had to spend Saturday afternoon, hungover, watching two games of high-school soccer. That's enough to put a damper on a weekend: four half-hour halves of relatively unskilled soccer, with nothing to hydrate with except tiny 75-cent bottles of green PowerAde.

What's going on in the polls? Who cares? The war will continue in Iraq -- unless Ralph Nader wins, in which case we'll leave, and that thug Zarqawi and his deluded goons can make Iraq back into that cul-de-sac of cultural advancement and enlightenment it was before the mean Americans went in and shot up Saddam's house -- I mean, houses.

This should be a great week. Cheers.

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^*A Bradley Fighting Vehicle, it should be noted, is not a "tank." It's a Fighting Vehicle. The tank used by the U.S. military is the M1A1 and M1A2 Abrams Main Battle Tank.

I hate to say "I told you so," but now it seems that doubts are arising over this "I sugar-coated Bush's evalutation" memo supposedly written by one Lt. Col. Jerry Killian.

I've always thought this AWOL bruhaha was nonsense, since it's predicated on the argument that since records are missing, Bush must have been missing.

Let me break it down for you "Barney-Style," as we say in the Army.

If a soldier (or airman, sailor, or marine) is Absent Without Official Leave, paperwork is generated, not lost. If Lt. Bush had been AWOL, there would be stacks and stacks of documents - inquiries, status changes, etc. - confirming that fact. Regardless of party affiliation, this AWOL accusation is pretty thin.

Then there's this "I was under pressure to sugar-coat Bush's performance evaluation." Whether the colonel was or wasn't doesn't affect the fact that he'd have to be trying to lose his commission to actually write a memorandum saying so.

Plus, superscripts on a 1960s-era typewriter? I don't think so.

And the fact remains that Bush was "Honorably Discharged." If he'd been AWOL and returned to his unit (which would be necessary to obtain his discharge papers), he wouldn't have been given an honorary, but would instead have been thrown in jail. This didn't happen.

And really, I've been asking (nicely) for people to put down this Swift Boat nonsense for a while now -- I think the same logic could be extended to Bush's Air National Guard records. Let's just let these things go, and move on to other, more relevant issues.

Because clearly (and I've said this before), military service is not a requirement for the presidency, and if anyone in the Democratic party wants to argue that point, I'd respectfully point out our former two-term president, Bill Clinton, who dodged the draft and smoked grass in Canada during Vietnam. I'm not saying I would have done any different, I'm just pointing out the fact that military service or non-service is simply a red herring when it comes to presidential candidacy.

Does it matter that Kerry is a combat vet? Will that make him more qualified to execute the War on Terror? No, because if service was really the trump qualifier, Gen. (Ret.) Wesley Clarke would be on the Democratic ticket. He's obviously spent a lot more time in and around combat than John Kerry.

So drop it. Let's talk about how this war in Iraq is going to finish up.

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Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

-- Amendments to the Constitution, Article [I.]

Freedom of Speech is one of those vague ideals that have been taken to mean whatever some revolutionary finds convenient at a given time. However, the basic principle is that in the United States, people are free to speak their mind, print and distribute material that in other countries might be construed as seditious libel, and be free from the fear of reprisal for such acts.

There are, of course, exceptions. Janet Jackson, for instance, is not protected under the First Amendment for a “wardrobe malfunction” at last year’s Superbowl. There are obscenity laws in place that proscribe that kind of material – although, some are imposed by self-governing bodies (as in the case of MPAA ratings on films).

Libel and slander are also illegal, and purveyors of such material are subject to punishment.

So you can’t air pornography on-demand, you can’t publish lies about other private persons or slander their good name, and you can’t invade another person’s privacy. But other than that, basically, you’ve got free reign.

This is good news, and the United States has benefited from this amendment for the entirety of its existence. How else would we have had such a great corps of independently-minded writers, artists, musicians, and journalists?

But you’ve got to take the good with the bad. There are those who would argue that yes, pornography does in fact enrich the cultural pool, but, to put it lightly, I seriously doubt it.

A little over two years ago, I was at the 46^th Adjutant General (Reception) Battalion at Fort Benning, getting ready to start Basic Training. One cadre member told us newly-shaved-headed recruits that we were in the Army now, and that “you defend the Constitution, you don’t necessarily get the benefits anymore.”

True enough. Joining the military, you forgo certain rights and freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution. It’s the military’s job to be available to defend and protect American freedoms, along with those of her allies, when danger arises.

I’m happy to be a part of that, however small a role I may personally have.

Why am I going on and on about this? Well, there’s this crusade on among certain self-righteous tBloggers to rid tBlog as a whole of material “inappropriate for children."

Anyone who’s read this blog with any regularity knows that I like to toss in a swear-word or two now and again, and maybe relate stories that might be considered “colorful.”

I made a couple comments on SoMe’s blog that indicated my opposition to censorship on a blog site, and that a child’s consumption of media, including the Internet, is the responsibility of parents or guardians, and not the responsibility of the writers here.

SoMe is supposedly appealing to that sense of righteousness and truth we all have buried somewhere within ourselves, and I have to admit, she’s got something resembling a point.

But here again, you have to take the good with the bad. How many people would sign up to use tBlog when the terms and conditions set out what you could and couldn’t talk about, what you were allowed to post and what you weren’t? I think most potential customers would move right along. There are other blog hosts available, after all.

I don’t think that it’s “self-centered” to resist efforts to curb creative output to a “PG” level. This space is a chance for me to express myself as honestly as I care to, just like every other tBlog account-holder.

Let’s get down to brass tacks here. I’m not arguing for the right of tBloggers to publish pornographic pictures, misogynistic screeds, or hateful diatribes. I’m arguing against the use of censorship.

It’s the same way I look at the rights I swore to defend two years ago. I’d hold my service pretty cheaply if I thought that I was in the Army to protect Larry Flint’s right to publish Penthouse. What I’m doing is fighting for a country that doesn’t proscribe unsavory publication and language.

It’s a two-way street – free speech gives us the opportunity both to soar and excel, but also to wallow in the gutters. The garbage makes the gold that much more brilliant by way of comparison.

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I heard on the radio yesterday (probably on The Bob & Tom Show) that pseudo-celebrity Paris Hilton has “written” a “memoir.” Apparently, it’s selling like hotcakes on Amazon.com.

Why do we know who this woman is? This girl with the vacant vicodin stare – how did we first hear of her? Oh yeah. It was that – ahem – “home video” she made with some “producer.” Yet, according to the radio report, this video is conspicuously absent from her “memoir.”

(Please pardon the overuse of quotation marks. It’s supposed to convey the sarcasm each of these sentences is dripping with.)

Paris Hilton is only famous because she made a dirty movie, and she’s hot, and she’s disgustingly rich. One thing her daddy’s money hasn’t given her is an interesting personality or something intelligent to say. Instead, she’s always wearing that spaced-out “I’ve blown too many painkillers up my nose” look and having her picture taken. If this is a cult of personality, humanity is doomed.

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I forgot about this article I wrote last week. It's a neat subject -- filming an "Army of One" commercial here at Fort Knox... but if you read it, keep an eye out for the major's quotes toward the end of the story. He's full of crap.

"Behind the Scenes of an 'Army of One'"

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Saw this on Rum and Monkey:

RARE GIANT PANDAS have been bred in captivity for the first time in years in Beijing People's Zoo. Officials expressed their joy at the news, explaining that an extensive programme of showing the animals videos of other pandas mating had, after many trials, been brought to a close, and that the current success could be attributed to a new strategy of kicking the living shit out of the frigid little bastards.

Ha, ha! I love it when people insinuate cruelty to animals. It's horrible in real life, but damned if it isn't funny to write about.

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Ahh… back at work, after a long Labor Day weekend. Normally, this would be another insane Tuesday, but because no one was working (or otherwise getting anything done) from Friday on, I have approximately one story to put in a six-page sports section this week. This means it will be something other than an insane Tuesday… this is something weirder, more dangerous, for which we haven’t yet invented a word.

But the weekend was well worth it. Most folks left for the four-day, but Finch and I stayed here, playing Madden 2005, drinking beer, and watching the Louisville/University of Kentucky game and old people brawl at the local sports bar, Shubie-Doos (Finch believes we should rename it “Shlobby Knob’s”).

Now it’s back to the grindstone, such as it is. The great thing about newspapers is that if you’re short on staff stories (which I most definitely am), there’s always the magic of wire stories to bring in. It’s a bit on the cheap side when it comes to Army sports (particularly because one full page is already devoted to NASCAR – and no, I can’t change that, I’ve tried), but it works, and you can always rationalize it by saying we need to “diversify” and include the “global angle.”

That’s where you get the Associated Press stories (we can’t run AP, for some strange Armified reason), the Reuters stories, the UPI stories. Those guys are all “wire” services. There isn’t a paper called “The Associated Press,” they just produce stories that any AP subscriber can run (or localize and rewrite). It’s cheaper than sending a staffer to Kandahar.

Meanwhile, all I’ve really got at my disposal is the Armed Forces Press Service, DefenseLINK, Army.mil, ARNEWS, and the like. We’ll see if they decided to write anything even remotely sports-related this weekend. I sure hope so.

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Senator Zell Miller (D-Georgia) gave the keynote speech last night at the Republican National Convention. During his speech, he wondered aloud at the changes that have taken place in the Democratic Party, and praised President George W. Bush for his efforts to fight terrorism and protect his people.

Today, you can swing by ZellOut.com, the website of a campaign to force Miller to become a card-carrying Republican, as well as to discredit the man completely.

Good grief. Miller's remarks last night detailed why he originally became a Democrat, and why he has decided to vote for Bush this November. And instead of addressing his remarks of last night, what certain Kerry supporters are busily doing now is assembling lists of ways in which Miller has said one thing and voted for another -- which is exactly what they've been critical of the Republicans for doing to Senator Kerry for the past year.

I guess it's not a surprise. The New York Times had a long-standing modus operandi to avoid issues by going right to the root of the problem: smearing reporters who broke stories that reflected poorly on a Times-favorable politico.

Is it laziness? Ignorance? Or is the political smear just the last trick in the bag for people who haven't a leg to stand on?

St. Thomas Aquinas can be credited for bringing the ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle back into the Western intellectual forefront. His usage of "heathen" philosophy was questioned at first, but Aquinas reasoned that truth, regardless of the source, was still truth. Aristotle's influence on the subsequent scholastic movement cannot be overstated, thanks to Aquinas' openness to the innate value of wisdom.

My point here is that Zell Miller, regardless of former party affiliations or votes, may have valid points.

That same mentality could be applied to John Kerry, if he weren't too busy getting the record straight on his Vietnam War service to give us some idea of his "brand new plan" for Iraq, or something. The fact that he's spent a lot of time doing this can't entirely be blamed on him, but there's not a whole lot else to go on as yet.

To wrap this up, that's why I won't register as either a Democrat or Republican. It's ridiculous to think that truth is the exlusive property of one party.

Let's let the Swift Vets for Truth, Moveon.org, and ZellOut.com do their thing. What the American Voter has to do is ask himself, "What really matters?"

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