Small Demon
Feb 262009
 

I’ve been generally pleased with the progressive policies advanced by the Obama administration, but this really pushes my buttons. I said just before and then again just after the election that the birght line standard by which I would judge Obama consisted of his actions regarding torture and wiretapping. Everything the administration has said and done indicates that they will not abuse their power in the blatent manner of the previous administration, but they are also preserving the legal structures that would allow them to do so if they chose. The Obama administration also has settled on the formula that if it happend before we got here we don’t want to look at it. I think there is a little more moral wiggle room on this one, but not much. There are short term political reasons for not going after the Bush violations of law and fundamental American valuse, but in the long run this moral rot will emerge. And since the legal structures will still be in place, the moral rot will be defended and protected as a way of defending and protecting executive power.

  2 Responses to “Hiding the Truth”

  1. I was screaming in my kitchen an hour or so ago while reading Jane Mayer’s article in the Feb. 23 issue of The New Yorker (which I just got today). I’m frustrated by some of the Obama administration’s ways of approaching these issues, but what enraged me was when the likes of Ashcroft and Cheney were quoted as saying, “You can’t put these guys on trial because of national secrets,” while others were saying, first, that the secrets in question were the methods used to interrogate them and secondly, that the real reason you can’t put them on trial is that almost all the evidence is tainted by the methods used to interrogate them! In other words, “we can’t try these guys now because of the things we did earlier instead of trying them!” ARGH!

  2. well, joseph, i am also in a screaming room. but that’s not obama’s fault. he will pull us out of it. but as to how i feel, here’s this piece below.

    PAINT ME A PICTURE OF TOMMY TRAIN

    i just am focusing on tommy train and that chug chug. whooo whooo.

    besides with all the good things in the usa my complaining is crying hunger with a ham on my back (that’s an old saying i heard as a kid)–not a cliff fall but a tumble down a hill. (though not forgetting the verse ending: jack fell down and broke his crown,/and jill came tumbling after).

    knowing all our friends believing we’ll see them again as the blinds close and reopen and the light goes and returns: it’s just that it’s similar to the way kids are in a hurry while life is catsup and curry. tomorrow will come again when yesterday has kittens. now is what gives you the blues. but you can choose. you can refuse to be lost. lost is an omen. not a destination. a stopping off place to re-gear. there are lots of dramas that like old cans of paint congeal. you have to reopen those cans before the paint gets thick. in between the goopey centered creampuffs gone wrong and the marriage of tough beans and hard cheese is a place to begin from again. or call it a moving on location/station. whooo whooo says little tommy train. whooo whooo. it may not be the amtrak. it could be the old skunk train that ran from the california coast at fort bragg east to willits. and it’s not going west. it’s heading back up the birth canal. whooo whooo. between an ending and a re-beginning. whooo whooo. or then again it may not be any of this–but imagining wierd or bland is a way to get back to spinning the bottle of life. but a life longed-for and a life imagined is probably a party as if life were a party that you don’t get invited to, isn’t worth trying to crash into or made into one of your own: it’s all a mirage but it has pressure and pain anyway even if as with a global fart has no issue solid as a turd. but it will smell and boom and empty a room. celebrate your power. reversing that old toilet door scratched verse of sitting there broken-hearted because you came to shit and only farted. life may be not as firm as a firmity nor as soft as a hershey squirt. perhaps a blue wind. yet something has happened. whooo whooo.

    darn tommy train has a funny looking grin on his radiator. as if he knows the score valley to shore. not what train journeys meant to be, but the skunk railroad up there in mendocino
    county in northern california from the coast into the northern great central valley has a lot to recommend, surround it. paint me a picture of tommy train. chug chooo. whooo whooo.

    EDWARD MYCUE 1 March 1, 2009

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