Taking to the desert

Don't even think of rechecking this blog until very very late on Saturday. The Arizona desert, where I will be spending the next three days is inhospitable to the Internet until the night descends. Thus I am at the mercy of the cacti and the creatures that rule the arid land. Cold at night, warm during the day, confusing to a Wisconsin person who thinks of winter as uniformly, painfully cold. Off I go.

I’m submitting my photo to the IRS

I never thought that it was permissible to throw in supporting documents with tax returns, but now I see that I missed countless opportunities to build a strong case for the integrity of my financial records. Since I have never been audited by the IRS, I am guessing that they googled me, found my UW Law School photo, and saw me to be the honest woman that I am. But this year, I want to cut their administrative burden and so I will append the photos myself.

I got the idea from reading about the 2004 Budget as submitted by President Bush. According to Krugman of the NYT, it includes 27 photos of GWB – in various noble poses with citizens like you and me (well, one photo is just alongside a shot of Mt Rushmore—his head next to the carved heads, suggestive, no?).

There is a picture in the budget where GWB is helping a child learn how to read. Now this just knocks me over: was the president taking time from his busy, albeit short work day, to help a child read? And did the terrified child learn anything? Maybe we should test the kid?

Photos in support of the budget. What an original idea! Kind of distracts from the numbers though, doesn’t it?

Spies

What is it about my sense of fair play that makes me live with the institution of the infiltrator-spy, but find repugnant the spy who secretly turns over information about his/her own country?

Yesterday, the Times reported the death of a spy (I can’t link – the story was buried and is now gone), a Polish man who had been central to American intelligence during the latter years of the Cold War. Here, he was a hero. Staying within the military in Poland, he passed on possibly some of the most vital military secrets to the CIA. He was such a staunch anti-Communist – it is said of him that he truly was passionate about his 20 years of espionage. His sole purpose in life was to see that the Soviet control over Poland would weaken, and that the Communist Party would lose it’s grip on political power.

To his surprise, once a democratic government was elected in Poland, no one there wanted to have anything to do with him. Walesa himself refused to pardon the guy. The country considered him a traitor to the nation.

Today’s press is full of news about the American soldier who allegedly passed information on to Al Qaeda. What demonic instincts would lead a person to do that? Even the least patriotic person would regard that as an immoral act.

But spying on the enemy? That appears to be different. Yes, it’s based on deceit, but it hasn’t the elements of betrayal to the country of origin. The infiltrator who obtains secret information is a hero in film and literature. They may be fighting for the same principles, but the traitor seems a tainted person, while the infiltrator is just doing his/her job. Not one that I’d like to be doing, and not always acting on behalf of policies that I would support, but still, just a well-greased peg in the machinery that noses its way into odd places where secrets are kept.

The world of plastic toys

To the reader who just volunteered to dig out her pink flamingo and lend it to me in order to appease my nascent desire to upstage the 4 neighborhood kids (whose total age does not even add up to half of mine): I am wondering why your plastic flamingo is in the garage, or basement, or wherever you are hiding it and not out in the snow where it would make the most noticeable impression. I am sure that someone across the street from you would get a real thrill if you went out and slapped some snow into a hill and then danced around with a flamingo in a carefree way. Moreover, you probably would not succumb to the kind of hostilities and rivalry that ultimately lead to the demise of the young pack in Lord of the Flies and are now threatening to chip away at the solidarity of the gang across the street. Or would you?

To the manufacturers of Barbie and Ken: what does it mean that Barbie and Ken are “splitting up” (read story here)? I always assumed that the white wedding dresses, the glitzy costumes, and all that Barbie paraphernalia, belonged to the world of plastic toys and corporate gimmicks. Tell me, which state are you fancying as that which will sanction your “divorce?” Because right now, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that I do not think that you are legally married to begin with. Marriage, so far as I know, is, in most jurisdictions, between two humans. We are currently debating how generously that should be interpreted, but I do not think anyone has yet suggested that the legal institution of marriage should embrace Barbie and Ken. I ask myself, wouldn't even the most liberal minds draw the line at plastic?