Oh, all right, one more,

but really, this has to be the last, okay? F’reals. Because the thing to take away from Glenn Greenwald’s bizarre exchange with Colonel Steven Boylan is the terrifying glimpse it gives us of the world to come: a politicized, evangelical military, glowering in the corner of our right-wing echo chamber, and thus our polity. (A sitting senator threatened her husband’s life when he was president; you really think it won’t be a thousand times worse when they have more on their side and even less to lose?) —That’s what should set you shivering, see, but all I can do when I read Greenwald’s followup (as a thousand points of McVeigh try to park rhetorical Ryders full of fertilizer on his post) is giggle at his peerless snap:

…right-wing blogger Howard Kurtz…

God, we’re so frickin’ witty, sipping tea here on the lip of the Abyss! (And what the fuck else should we do, huh?)

Drive-by kulturklatsch.

I’m needed elsewhere; I’m trying to Get Things Done. (Never mind the sooty faces tugging at the Forge!) —This is mostly me using the Outboard Brain. And so: this (which found via this) seems somehow to me to be saying something, what, obverse? to this, which is (indirectly) about this. (I’d add something about the stagnation of the direct market in comics as everyone waits for trades that never come because the floppies don’t sell, but I’m not sure where to put it.) So: no thought, just bookmarks. (On a seemingly unrelated note: should I kill the joke about the three lions entirely? I mean, head, hand, and heart, but who the fuck’s gonna follow that?)

Politics as she is spoke.

Yes, it is interesting to learn that the Feds began wiretapping us in February of 2001 (though I coulda sworn we found that out like, last year already or something). But: you want to stop the warrantless wiretapping now? Don’t bother pointing out it was no fucking use at all in stopping 9/11. They don’t care, and anyway the rhetoric’s metastasized. —Point out instead it was no fucking use at all in stopping the Republicans from losing Congress.

A humble request.

I was going to rant about how nobody’s letting In Our Bedroom After the War breathe in the shadow of Set Yourself on Fire, but I have work to do, and really, you all probably knew this already, so instead I’ll just ask this: please, please, please stop saying “postmodern” when all you mean is “metatextual.” It’s so 1984.

I know you are but what am I.

As you know, Bob, they only accuse us of that which they themselves are doing, or mightily wish they could do—so maybe we might want to get a tad more concerned than usual with recent trends in rhetoric from the dextral reaches of the Islets of Bloggerhans.