Again, the Oscars

Columnist Broder from the Washington Post announces his own Oscars for the Democratic Primaries (read it here). He writes the following:

"It's obvious that the John Kerry campaign was the political equivalent of "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King." Just as that epic dominated the Oscars, the Massachusetts senator won battle after battle, starting in Iowa and going right through Super Tuesday."

In addition, Broder wishes to hand out the Best director award to Mary Beth Cahill (who took over managing Kerry’s chaotic campaign back in November); Best Actor: goes to John Edwards (no explanation needed—“awesome performance” writes Broder); for Best Supporting Actress we have:

"A tie between Elizabeth Edwards and Teresa Heinz Kerry, who campaigned vigorously and effectively on their own and managed, when on stage with their husbands, to avoid the adoring gaze that once was expected from the candidate's spouse. Smart, independent women, they did much to signal a welcome change in American society. And a special award to Judith Steinberg Dean, who sent the same message simply by sticking to her medical practice."

Finally, Best Supporting Actor: to Ted Kennedy (for working the crowd before a Kerry appearance); Most Gracious Withdrawal: Joe Lieberman (I don’t have to agree with all the awards, do I?); Most Gracious Endorsement: Wes Clark, “the retired general who went to Wisconsin to endorse former Navy lieutenant Kerry and said to the winner: "Sir, request permission to come aboard;"” and at the tail end, the Worst Supporting Actor Award: “Jerry McEntee of the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees, who jumped the gun on most other labor leaders in hopes of being the kingmaker in Howard Dean's campaign and then publicly abandoned Dean a week before Wisconsin. Dean had plenty of faults, but he didn't deserve this. As columnist Mark Shields has written, McEntee's double-cross probably scotches whatever hopes he had to become the next president of the AFL-CIO. Loyalty is supposed to mean something in politics and in life, and he failed the test big-time.”

Can I add a few about others in the run for president? Best Animation, Short Subject: Ralph Nader – truly a cartoon performance, one hopes of a short duration; Best Producer: Republican Fundraisers for putting up such sums of money for GWB, part II. With the exception of the Godfather, isn’t it the case that the sequel is always worse than the original? Oh Lord.

The simple life of the Richies

The perennial question at the time of divorce is, should there be an award of spousal support? If so, how much and for how long? If you read court decisions, you’d come away thinking that spousal support is the norm. Moreover, it is awarded both to recognize the contributions of each spouse (not only the income producing one) during marriage, and to respond to her or his need to maintain a lifestyle proximate to that at the time of marriage. The idea is that divorce should not result in the enrichment of one at the cost of the other – i.e. the spouse that’s economically less well positioned to start a life alone. If you talk to divorce attorneys, however, they will tell you that the reality is less predictable and only approximately 20% of spouses walk away with long term awards.

And so how should the divorcing Richies be treated by the courts? CNN reports that Diane Richie is asking for support as a matter of fairness. She has been accustomed to spending lavishly (her monthly expenses include: $1000 for laser hair removal, $20,000 for a visit top to her son at boarding school, $450 on facials, $250 on nails, etc.). It would be a hardship to change her lifestyle. I would not be surprised if she were granted quite a hefty monthly sum. This is in the LA jurisdiction – her expenses are likely to be regarded as fair and reasonable.

The ballad of Leonardo Balada

Lacking yoga (see post below) to calm my inner turmoil, I decided, instead, to google some of my elementary school teachers to see if they attained any greatness, something more significant than simply shepherding me through 2nd, 3rd, etc grades.

By far the most impressive of the lot is Leonardo Balada, experiencing quite the meteoric rise from elementary and middle school music teacher to renowned composer and professor at the Carnegie Mellon School of Music. He taught me music during 5th through 7th grades, and I remember thinking him then to be rather odd, what with a string (it was always a string) of blond hair falling over half his face, and a slumped posture of a genius in the making.

He let me sing in the ‘special’ solo at the closing school ceremonies before I left for Poland and so I decided to love him right then and there. But when he shortly after traveled to Poland and called my family home, I pretended that I didn’t exist and hung up on him. That was to be my last contact with the incomparable Mr. Balada (see his site here). Unless… unless… what if I were to send him an email explaining that his googled accomplishments have boosted my spirits on a quiet March evening in Madison? What if I apologized for hanging up on him that day in Warsaw, in the summer of 1966? No, some images are best left alone. If he didn’t remember ever having taught the spunky and not altogether compliant kid in his music and choral works classes, I’d be crushed, and then googling his name would never be a calming force again.

A Democrat in search of New Balance

Tonight I should have by-passed the local press. Not only did I have to lose my evening tranquility by reading a nonsensical story blasting divorce attorneys (see post below), but then a well-intentioned reader directed me to the article, also in the Cap Times, indicating that Senator Feingold, for reasons known only to himself (the stated reasons are not entirely comprehensible), was one of just a handful of democrats voting against the extension of the ban on military-style assault weapons.

I know that Feingold and I share the same birth month/year, I know that I could heretofore trust him on representing the democratic platform in the Senate, and I can’t really say that I am a single-issue voter. However, this is just too disturbing. Can anyone explain what credible reasons Feingold would have for voting in the way that he did?

I will go into a political shut-down mode for a while. Reading the paper is too harsh on the system. I wish I were the type who could do two hours of yoga every time I read something disconcerting in the press. Maybe it’s time I found some distractions. My colleagues (see blogs here and here) are all into TiVo. I don’t even know what TiVo is. Sounds like sneakers you would wear for jogging. Personally, I like the style of New Balance – both as footwear and as a slogan favoring the tranquility I am currently missing.

How many distortions can one story have?

Reading today’s Cap Times (local paper) on the subject of divorce through lawyerless mediation, I felt like canceling my subscription right then and there. In a calmer mode I decided that too many papers were being discontinued by me because of an emotional reaction to a poorly written story; reason prevailed and the paper will continue to grace my doorstep in the late afternoon.

When a newspaper article takes one or two missteps, it is not inappropriate to write a quick note clarifying the inaccuracy. The story on divorce, however, had, when last I counted, twenty one inaccuracies, some of them verging on blatant misstatements of fact.

It is so easy to argue that lawyers milk their clients at the time of divorce; that parents are encouraged to pursue their own interest instead of the child’s best interest in custody disputes; that if you would only take the lawyers out, some other less money-grubbing professional could step in and do a better job. The fact is, most courts have built-in mandatory mediation sessions, many appoint a separate lawyer to represent the child’s best interest, and very very few cases ever go to trial, because the pressure to settle a dispute is enormous. Judges hate divorce and custody battles, and do not look favorably upon lawyers who do not resolve the issues prior to a court appearance.

I always worry that the push toward mediation – so fine-sounding in its simplicity – will undermine the interests of the weaker party, the one that hasn’t the emotional strength to persevere. I admit that I am not a fan of divorce proceedings – I find them flawed in any number of ways. You need only attend my Family Law lectures to hear my concerns on how couples and children are treated at the time of dissolution. I spend almost the entire semester on this. But running this article which praises the services of some company offering a “better way” to a divorce, is grounds for mandating a retraction. It’s just too horribly written to belong in even the local paper.

A true resident

Last week I was spending a long afternoon listening to students appeal their denials of residency status for tuition purposes here at UW (I am on a university committee that hears these). A young woman came in with her husband. They moved here from Colorado because of her studies (in law, of all things). She had appealed once before and had been denied, and now she was back. I asked her what had changed since the last hearing. She responded that she and her husband had received a bill for sidewalk maintenance in front of their home this last December (they bought a small house in Madison when they moved here for her schooling) – a hefty sum of $1000 was owed by them to the city of Madison. Surely, said she, this now makes her a full-fledged member of this community and, therefore, a true resident of Wisconsin.

She was wrong and I spent a while explaining why. But I think the woman has connections high up. Today in the mail I received a white envelope with threatening words on the front of the envelope: OFFICIAL NOTICE it read. Inside was a letter from the City Engineering Division informing me that my sidewalk was going to be inspected imminently, with the strong possibility of major repairs down the pike. A bill for this city service would follow.

Coincidence? I can hardly think so. Our sidewalk was repaired just two years ago, and we paid THAT bill shortly thereafter. There is, to my uninformed eye, nothing wrong with the sidewalk – it is as smooth as an ocean pebble. It is beautifully straight, not a tear nor a dent to be seen along its long, well-tended stretch.

I fear that our non-resident has set the city against us. I can only expect now an annual repaving of the sidewalk. With the huge bill, of course.

Numbing beauty

One of the odder email subscriptions that I receive (on a very irregular basis) is a newsletter on Florence doings. Yes, that would be Florence, Italy. I think it must be targeting expats because it is in English, and it speaks of things that would be of interest to a foreigner spending long periods of time there.

This morning, I read in it the following: “When he visited Florence, the French writer Stendhal, after a few days spent admiring the architectural and artistic wonders he encountered at every step, was stricken by a sort of blackout, a prostration brought on by the sight of such highly-concentrated beauty.”

I read this with a sort of early March longing to be overwhelmed by something so piercingly flawless that it would make me numb. It would be best if this would coincide with Spring Break so that my own prostration would not hinder any teaching effort. It is hard to find that kind of stunning visual perfection in a landscape that always looks dirty during this month, and a town that is more on the pleasant and attractive end of things rather than fetchingly stupefying. It is easier to be a Florentine in March than it is to be a Madisonian.

Uniquely Vermontian

I am sure I could eventually come to understand why the state of Vermont voted overwhelmingly to support Dean today. But this other piece of news (here) – about the town of Killington wanting to secede from Vermont to become a part of New Hampshire (a mere 25 miles away) is a bit much. Though, it would be interesting to give cities and towns the choice of state affiliation. Madison would probably opt for Massachusetts. And where would Berkeley go? No state quite matches its idiosyncratic disposition. A fascinating idea, all the more remarkable since I am sure that the laws of the chosen state (in today’s case, those of NH) were not thoroughly examined to determine if they were compatible with the mood of the town.

Perhaps the one conclusion one can walk away with today is that Vermont can’t quite shake that now fading glory of being in the public eye.

A day of interesting conversations

A reader tells me:

r: your blog is so personal, I could never blog in that way…
nc: personal? I wont even reveal the top movies selected in my name by the “pick-a-DVD service” (see post sometime in January), I write about the most benign events in my life, I say little, if anything, about what I’m REALLY thinking, that’s for email or personal encounters, not for BLOGS…what do you mean by ‘personal’?

r: well, just as an example I would never say where it is that I am traveling..
nc: that is completely impersonal! I write travel stories on the side, that’s how impersonal travel is in my mind. I hosted a travel website for years and wrote constantly about visits to family farms and vineyards in distant places. Writing about travel is not personal, it’s a nudge to look at an issue from the other side of the ocean, with a different focus perhaps…

r: well yes, but you reveal your position in the process of writing.
nc: do I? Are you sure? Maybe sometimes. I suppose. I guess everyone does know whom I voted for. Or, at least it can be assumed. I’ll grant this much: writing a blog is much like going to a dinner with hosts at a foreign university: the same level of detail would go into a conversation there. After a shot of sake, that detail may expand a little, but it will always be a story within the boundaries of that wonderful, yet limited, conversation.

“Drama-starved pundits…”

“Drama-starved pundits"--these are words used in a WPost article today referring to those who will pick up on Cheney’s comments on the gay marriage saga, looking to see if there is enough of a rift between Cheney and Bush for the president to dump Cheney from the ticket anytime soon. Not wishing to be subsumed into this category, I will NOT devote much space to Cheney’s very amusing answer to the question of whether he supported Bush’s proposed constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage [hint – Cheney made himself out to be a complete non-person, which is perhaps not a surprise, but it is rather funny in an awful sort of way].

Perhaps more disturbing is the reporting of support in this country for the VP: Cheney has an approval rating of 33 percent, disapproval 36, and 31 had no opinion. As to that last number, in the words of the Post, “where have these folks been?”

the happy families of Coaticook

The NYT describes (here) a town in Quebec (Coaticook) where the mayor is providing subsidies so that people would hurry up and multiply. Currently, the number of births averages to about 1.3 per couple. He is hoping that by throwing in a large sum of money for a third child (and fourth, and fifth…), along with subsidies for children’s sports equipment and music lessons, he can keep the families large, culturally and physically fit, and happily married.

Maybe, maybe not. He admits to having no data to support this, though he feels that it can’t but help prod families into making that decision to have even more little rabbits.

The fact is, family-friendly subsidies are not new. Many countries use financial incentives to boost reproduction and to keep young parents in the work force. France is a classic: over 80% of women are employed (ditto Japan) – a fact that reflects the country’s offers of day care subsidies, nanny subsidies, and a number of other benefits for the birthing mother. Last I checked, close to 95% of all French children ages 3 – 5 attended state-funded child care programs (with great food to boot). Far fewer women are in the workforce in Britain and Canada– where the governments are less forthcoming with subsidies.

In Coaticook, Cananda the offer is of piano lessons and hockey sticks and $750 as an incentive to have that extra child. Parents are grateful, I’m sure, with every peanut thrown their way, but oh, is this ever a peanut!

Conversation in the hallway

reader (r): if you could have 5 million people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: No. definitely not. All those anonymous addresses clicking in – never.

r: if you could have 5 thousand people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: no, same reasons.

r: if you could have 500 people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: I think that’s still too much. Unless the readership was composed of people who were no more than one degree of separation removed from me: friends of friends is okay. Friends of friends of friends -- maybe. Complete strangers? It’s not whom I think of when I write a post. I’d have to change my style.

r: if you could have 50 people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: that’s it? I have 50 people in my Family Law class alone. I’m sure this blog hasn’t yet reached all their computerized little fingers, but yes, I would like at least two readers who are not reading to see if they can figure out if I say anything that will help them on their exam.

r: so how many readers would make you happy?
nc: quality, man, it’s all about quality. A reader should like to read the kind of stuff that I like to write about. Style, content, experiences, quirky selection of topics – all that has to please, otherwise it’s a misfire. Lucky thing is, if you’re a reader who logs on only to wince at the mere titles of some of the posts, you of course know that you can find a million other blogs to make you happy. Or, you can start your own little slice of heaven. [And I want to see YOU keep it lively and bold on a daily basis, for months and months!]

What’s wrong with slam dunker?

Class notes from today:

nc: “Why isn’t this case a slam dunker, a no brainer, and easy win for the plaintif?

student: “Professor Camic, it’s not a slam dunker because you can’t say anything is a slam dunker. The word is ‘slam dunk’.” [here student makes a swift and forceful hand motion implying some baseball move that is unrecognizable by me but appears to satisfy the visual requirements of what is a slam dunk]

The edification of the immigrant continues.

Brief comment after ever-so-brief walk with dog

Weather update: the snow has officially melted in the backyard. Completely. Now is the time to draw mighty plans and turn great ambitions into reality: the season of heaving and hoeing is just ahead. Each year I remove the next five to ten square feet of lawn and convert it into planting space. I do it by hand – none of the heavy machinery for me. I’d spent my first years of life and the best part of every childhood summer in a remote village in Poland with my grandparents (electricity arrived only when I was 5, running water and indoor plumbing came much much later). The love of working the soil comes from those years. Now if I could only convert all this suburban rocky clay soil into something that can sustain plantlife, I would be happy.

Politics and songs

An interesting article in the Washington Post today made me wonder if its mission is to spot inconsistencies in NYT reporting (read it here). But let me bypass that for now. Further into the piece, the author turns his attention to Kerry’s campaign (this is a cite twice removed – in other words, I am citing to the Post, which, inturn, is citing to the National Review and so there is an element of mockery here):

Why does Sen. John Kerry talk incessantly about Vietnam?
Obviously, it has given him a great political advantage in past campaigns and he hopes it will do the same in his race for the White House. But there might be another reason. Perhaps more than any other presidential candidate in recent memory, Kerry seems to be living in another time, playing a movie of Vietnam over and over in his mind . . .
Is Kerry's the only campaign to play Jimi Hendrix -- specifically, 'Fire' from the 1967 album Are You Experienced? -- at rallies? Other candidates -- like John Edwards, with his theme song, John Mellencamp's 'Small Town' -- aren't exactly cutting edge, but they have chosen somewhat newer stuff.
And what about the music on Kerry's bus? Before the Iowa caucuses, Washington Post reporter Ceci Connolly described the candidate hanging out on the bus with Peter Yarrow, his old friend from Peter, Paul, and Mary. 'Pedro, sing us a song,' Kerry ordered one day. Yarrow picked up a guitar and began to play and sing -- and later waxed nostalgic about the antiwar rallies he attended way back when with Kerry and Eugene McCarthy.
Earlier, Connolly wrote, when Yarrow sang 'Puff the Magic Dragon' at an event in a private home in Ames, Iowa, 'Kerry lifted his fingers to his mouth for a quick toke on an imaginary joint. You can almost see his thick mane of silver hair returning to the shaggy brown do of those days.'
This man is living in a time warp. No wonder Kerry sees any conflict -- Gulf War I, Afghanistan, Gulf War II --as a potential Vietnam. In Kerry's world, Vietnam is running on a continuous loop on that big screen TV -- with Jimi, Kris, and Peter, Paul, and Mary singing in the background.

Oh how annoying! Can we trivilaize the man any more than this?

Dressing without care

In today’s Cap Times, columnist Doug Moe both complains that Midwesterners have to “wear” the label of having no taste (especially for clothes), at the same time that he admits to hating anything other than white socks and flexible waist-line pants (would that be on a rubber band?) and to despising any sort of neck wear. Moe suggests the following reason for why men would even contemplate putting on a tie: “men wear neckties (only) because women wear high heels – it’s a form of attire revenge that each gender practices on the other.”

So is he agreeing with the label of skuzzy tastelessness? Hard to say. And maybe the label of “good taste” should not enter into any discussion of dress or style. You can only irritate someone by proclaiming knowledge of what stands behind it since claiming to recognize good taste is already a boast: it elevates you to a level of greater insight, to having an educated palate, discriminating judgment and a good eye.

But is there nothing in the claim that Midwesterners are poor dressers? Certainly everyone would agree that overall, Wisconsinites are comfort-oriented in their dress: practical rather than extravagant. I think you could go to the best restaurant in sweat pants and no one would care. In Poland, even those on a shoestring budget take great pains to present themselves well in public. You need only ride the subway in Warsaw to see this – students and older people alike are extremely mindful of what they wear. Moe in his white socks, flexible pants and open collar shirt is basically saying “heck with it, I’ll do what I dang well please.” The kinder interpretation is that clothes are, after all, only superficial markers of anyone’s worth, proxies for an affluence in resources rather than spirit. But an “I’m not going to bother” attitude does say something else about a person, doesn’t it? Being a slob, clothes-wise or otherwise, is a request for the indulgence of others. Isn’t it a sign that you’re privileging the self over those around you?

What if

A Polish reader sent me photos from the reunion of our university class of economists. I had begun my studies in econometrics with these guys at the U of Warsaw in 1969, and I would have gotten my MA with them in 1974 had I stayed, but I barreled out halfway and moved to NY and to a new field of study – sociology (only, in the end, to capitulate to law). The photos had the effect that reunions have on people if you haven’t been tracking others’ progress. Everyone looked much the same, only 30+ years older.

It is interesting to play the “what if” game with yourself, so I indulged in a little fantasy, aided by the photos. What if I had stayed... I’d be there juggling a glass of wine (one hopes it is wine and not stronger stuff, but in Poland you never know) with them, talking about our changing careers in light of Poland’s economic reforms (my class was greatly affected by the transformations – not always in a positive way; some are struggling with keeping employed). I’d exchange stories about how my little bobus (kiddie) turned into a fine young Zygmunt or Waclaw (neither name is particularly a favorite, but I’m just spinning here), and I’d ask for a recipe for the newest version of poppy-seed cake. We’d review our winter vacations and our plans for the summer (Poles cannot be content without at least two hefty vacations, during the winter and summer, sometimes supplemented with a brief little escape, maybe for a week or so, in the fall). Most definitely we’d comment on how joining the EU will affect the environment, or the success of a local favorite shop that's struggling to stay in business. Everyone talks about the EU, and us econometricians would be right in there churnin’ numbers and keeping fingers crossed. Late at night we’d walk the city streets toward home – but wait, who is “we” and where is “home?” Here’s where the game starts being complicated. Better get back to work – so much easier and more linear.

Days of wine and marriages

An odd way to begin a new month, a new week, and a new morning: to write a blog post about a story from last month’s Wine Spectator.

It all, however, makes sense. I have been up since dawn clearing the stack of accumulated bills and magazines from February in what has become a monthly ritual (first day of each month) of bill-paying, grumbling about paper waste and junk mail, and in general, snarling at every window-envelope that crosses my path. I am almost done with the stack and am celebrating with a quick post on an article I paused to read a minute ago.

The article is about Gavin Newsome, obviously written before Mr. Newsome put himself on the map by permitting gay marriages in the city where he is mayor (SF). My Berkeley-residing mother had already alerted me to the fact that he is an ambitious individual (somehow when she says this it always sounds like a pejorative). The WS article, similarly, is not blind to Newsome’s ambitions. It starts out with the following:

Garvin Newsome seems to have it all—a successful business centered around wine, restaurants and resorts; good looks, charm and sophistication; a wife who is a former model turned city prosecutor; a politically connected father [later on we find out that his dad is a retired state appeals court judge]; and a billionaire family friend and financial backer [that would be Billy Getty, son of billionaire philanthropist, Gordon Getty]. Now, at age 36, he is also the new mayor of SF and a rising star in the Democratic Party. Newsome…says he always tries to set ‘big, hairy [??], audacious goals’ for his business and for himself. ‘I don’t want to have a modest goal and then reach for it,’ says the entrepreneur, whose innovative businesses include a fine dining restaurant that sells wine at retail prices [this is unheard of: our trio of top-of-the line restaurants in Madison marks up at 2 -3 times the retail price, which always makes me ill] and a winery that puts screw caps on a $100 plus cabernet [way to go! Cork spoilage is the single biggest reason why nice bottles of wine sometimes taste like bird bath water; even when the wine survives an imperfect cork, it may still be in some way affected by it. A good way to satisfy yourself that this is true is to blind-taste wine from many bottles coming from the same case, same cellar, same barrel—they wont all taste the same; how can that be? Obviously cork impact].

Stories of this type of energetic enthusiasm for bold reform are rare. Newsome’s ambitions appear to be targeting even higher goals for the future. Can he sustain his fervor for affecting change? He says of himself that he “lives in exclamation points!” How refreshing. I’m such a fan of this type of passion and zest. Surrounding yourself with images of (and contacts with, if you're lucky) people who live “in exclamation points," as opposed to between anti-smiley faces such as this :( , has to be the healthiest way to proceed and create (whatever it is that you are destined to create).

Reflecting on the Academy Awards

A reader who has been amused with my Award obsession for a while now suggested that I perhaps should consider switching my focus to the “Independent Spirit Awards” (aired late Saturday night). I must truthfully admit that I had never heard of these awards (possibly because I tuned out at the mere sound of the words “Independent Spirit” in the media, thinking these to be signifiers of some military action in a distant region of the planet). Okay, assuming that these are authentic awards, what is it that sets them apart from the rest? My friend writes that the Independent Spirit Awards were more entertaining in a less formal way, with recognition going to a greater variety of films. And what were the results? Who even showd up? My pal says: “Lost in Translation dominated, and Charlize, looking incredible in jeans and a white blazer, won. Those two darling girls from In America were there.” It does sound like a better version of what I succumb to each year.

It almost made me want to give up on the Academies in the future, but not entirely. For one thing, if you have been watching something regularly since 1976, without a break, it would have to be a pretty miserable experience for you to give it up now. Also, you know that the world (or 1 billion pop, which is a good part of the viewing public) is watching and so you are tracking not only the winners but the possible reaction of those watching the winners.

But it is frustrating when you do tune in and you find that all dresses look alike, all speeches sound alike, and there are NO SURPRISES (except that Sean Penn showed up; A+ for his comment, too). Many will write tomorrow that these were the most boring of all the Oscar shows. Not true for me– I did NOT drift off, there were no long production numbers, and Billy was tame but not sleep-inducing.

Maybe it is more of a milestone than anything else: it’s March (or this year: almost March), we’re almost done with winter, and there is hope: that someone will say something that will change the world in a positive way, that someone will be recognized for a talent that is truly remarkable, that there will be something there to amuse us on that big gray box called the TV.

So, one realized hope out of three isn’t bad, right? And there’s next year to look forward to. Only someone else will have to slaughter the lobsters (see post below). It’s just getting to be too brutal for me.

Things that a blogger can be grateful for:

...That a small handful of Academy Award recipients had the drive to include in their message of thanks something/someone other than names of unknown to us people (sincere thanks to moms is a good things, as are messages questioning the existence of WMD);

...That the balance of support v. protest against some of the content of this blog today was kept level at 1:1 (at least this is a guess – I am assuming there was silent support, since people don’t typically write unless they have objections);

...That it is now officially March, a month that portends of good things to come, thereby negating all the bad omens associated with February.