Mr. Nieporent and I have had a little tiff over at Charles Austin's site about "terrorism". Mr. Nieporent thinks that the justice system in America is fine without refining crimes down to "hate crimes" or "terrorism".

In many ways, I agree with him. It's an overcomplication to designate "hate crimes". It goes too many ways.

"Terrorism" might be a tad different. You'll have to take my word on this, but when we went into Afghanistan I saw a short film on MSNBC, "Inside Afghanistan", in which a prisoner-of-war in one of the northern camps was asked about Osama Bin Laden. He was interpreted as saying, "Osama is a terrorist. He does terrorism. Like a doctor does medicine, Osama does terrorism." Yes, Mr. Nieporent, there are different classes of crime.

That's not right. How was your mama gonna holler "William Joseph" out the screen door when she called you to supper?

Here's a great little story by Jesse Walker about a walk with his fiancee:

TRUE TALES OF BALTIMORE: So last night R. and I are walking the series of blocks that separate our car from a party. We pass three elderly women, and R. decides to mess with them by suddenly saying, "I don't know if I feel right about having an affair."

There's a pause. Then one of the old ladies yells, "GO FOR IT!"

There are stories of the National Museum of Iraq being looted, like this one. Before everyone starts wringing their hands, experts need to examine what morsels are left and see if they are authentic. Note in this story:

The museum had been closed during much of the 1990's, and like many Iraqi institutions, its operations were cloaked in secrecy under Mr. Hussein.

Given the venality of the regime, and the tremendous value of antiquities on the black market, the museum might have contained nothing but exquisite fakes. Worth looking at.

LATER: The scam is, during these ten years you make exquisite fakes for the museum, and store the real things out of country. When war arrives, incite a mob to loot the museum, setting the whole world in a tizzy over lost relics, and forcing the US to start paying sums to recover the lost pieces, which you sell from your cache which has been safely stored away for years. I like it. Lovely way to get the last laugh.

Saddam just borrows the art from the people, and finances his lifestyle and such terrorist activities as he can afford with our dollars.

There she is!

Body on beach had two left thumbs

Police said Friday that the fact that a body that washed up on a Wilmette beach had two left thumbs could help them identify the man.

Well, I guess so.

Where is Shoshana?

Some smart organization with the footage will issue a 2 hour tape of "Donald Rumsfeld's Greatest Moments".

Where is Shoshana?

Via Brothers Judd comes this tale of horse-thieving during the looting in Baghdad. What a strange thought.

BAGHDAD, Iraq - It was enough to make a Texan president's heart swell: Hassan Atiya, an Iraqi on horseback, riding off into the chaos of wartime Baghdad with a vigorous wave and an exclamation — "I love you, America."

By way of Kathy Kinsley and Mommabear, to Command Post, to Defense Tech, to Noah Schachtman's article at Tech Central Station. Why are people in the field getting false positives on chemical tests?

Last night I was watching Fox News when embedded reporter Greg Kelley described how he and his team had left the presidential palace the night before to sleep in a clearing. Some members of the team put a tarp on the ground, but Kelley said no, he camped out on the hood of the Humvee.

Now, I don't mind sleeping on the floor, but I won't be sleeping outdoors in anything but a deluxe tent. I don't like bugs and I don't like snakes.

So what kinds of bugs are the soldiers living with in Iraq? Here's a story about an entomologist working with US forces in Kuwait. An excerpt:

Obenauer said malaria ---- spread by mosquitoes and parasites ---- and other nasty infections caused by "filth" flies, pose the biggest threats.

But there are other dangers, posed by other bugs, including:

Sand flies: Like the no-see-ums in the southern United States and jejenes of Mexico and Central America, sand flies in Iraq like to bite feet, ankles and wrists. The Iraqi twist on the common pest is that they carry deadly viruses called cutaneous and visceral leishemaniasis, which can cause fever, weight loss, an enlarged spleen and liver before death.

Ticks: Unlike the ticks Marines may have seen before, in places like Camp Lejeune, N.C., Iraq's blood-suckers can transmit a bacteria into their host that can cause a form of hemorrhagic fever. They are pretty cunning, too, Obenauer said. "They're long-legged and fast, and they feel the vibrations of animals or humans and move toward it," he said. "They're pretty bad ticks."

Spiders and scorpions: While they do not carry diseases, spiders and scorpions are high on the troops' list of concerns, Obenauer said. And there are many to be concerned about.

Sun spiders, also known as "camel spiders," are not true spiders but spiderlike bugs that grow to be about 8 inches in diameter and are sure to freak out any Marine sharing a foxhole with one. Obenauer said that while they are big and ugly and pack a mean bite, they are nonvenomous and nearly harmless. Janis: Here's another reference for these guys, which includes this charming quote: "The popular terms 'haarskeerders' and 'baardskeerders' (Afrikaans words for hair and beard cutters) originate from the strange behaviour of some of these animals where they cut hair from sleeping people or animals (dogs) at night. It appears that female solifugids find hair to be an ideal nest liner."

There are 19 species of scorpions in Iraq, five of which are "very dangerous," Obenauer said. Among the latter is the black scorpion, one of the deadliest in the world.

It's worth reading the rest of the story to find out how dreadful conditions have been in Iraq. It also explains those 50 gallon drums of pesticides.

LATER: Here's a military site with pictures of snakes and scorpions, dangers and treatments.

So, Iraqis grow tomatoes, too. I am too lazy to cite, but, of course, you have heard the reports of Iraqis living on little but tomatoes. Must say, if I were restricted to a food or two, tomatoes would be high on the list.

My question is, "Do middle-aged men in Iraq compete in growing tomatoes?"

Is there a state-mandated way of growing tomatoes, or do men sit around arguing about the best way? Do they argue about fertilizing? Spacing? Depth of planting? Watering? Picking suckers?

Do they brag? "My tomatoes are marble-sized." "Well, my tomatoes are golf-ball sized." "When did you put yours out?" "Oh, my garden was ready in February." "My tomatoes are beginning to turn." "Birds are getting all mine."

Or is it all different?

LATER: According to this story about tomato farmers in Al Zubayr, probably not.

Sorry, folks. I just experienced the best life has to offer. I was setting out the last two tomato plants in our rich Mississippi River soil when a tug on the river sounded its horn and cheers erupted from the ball park across the street.

Of course, there are already mosquitos. And Lucy is ticked because she couldn't participate. West Nile, you know.

Oh! Me? I'm going to help plant 45 tomato plants.

Bosh, Josh. John Kerry has a tin ear. That's from a registered independent.

LATER: I'm watching Joshua Marshall on Fox right now. He has a good television presence. Nice voice.

It seems things just don't change:

Last November, exactly one year after the fall of the Taleban, I stayed in the Kabul house once occupied by Osama bin Laden. Though hardly on the scale of Saddam’s palaces, by Afghan standards it was a stately home, the residence of the Saudi-born terrorist’s third wife. It was at once a surprise and a confirmation to discover that the ascetic, anti-Western terrorist had chosen French bidets for the green-tiled en-suite bathrooms. His luxury mansion outside Kandahar, with its door handles studded with semi-precious stones, would not have been out of place in Footballers’ Wives.

Caves? Riiiight...

From Smiley Anders in The Baton Rouge Advocate:

According to a recent survey, men say the first thing they notice about women is their eyes. And women say the first thing they notice about men is they're a bunch of liars.

Attacker held off with curling iron

That's as good a headline as I've seen lately. Here's the story from The Baton Rouge Advocate.

Tata Possum posted another excerpt from his turn-of-the-century writing guide today. It includes this excerpt:

Men of Action, Writers of Power.—Any atrophy of action in the writer is loss of power in the writing. The masculine literature of the world is the marrow of men great—in action as in writing: Moses, David, Paul, Cæsar, Æschylus, Michel Angelo, Cervantes, etc. Of more avail, also in literature, it the action any writing means than its literary finish. Homer, less literary than Virgil, is yet the greater influence. Milton, in form more measured than Shakespeare, is yet behind him in magnitude and power. Burns, who made no profession of literature, arouses more enthusiasm than Wordsworth, whose one business was poetry. Emerson is more literary, but less virile, than Carlyle, whose bias was all in favor of action.

Several years ago, to help my son Jason, I read a book or two of Milton for the second or third time. I have no time for Milton anymore. However you go about it, the man is a bore. On the other hand, Shakespeare is a charm.

Here is a story about the expulsion of CNN correspondent Nic Robertson from Iraq which makes a curious counterpoint to the Peter Arnett fiasco.

Way to go, Iraqis.

Not a particularly effective way to cure "humiliation". We could say you fight like girls, but that would insult Cpl. Blondie.

From Sparkey at Sgt. Stryker.

Oh, mercy. Lucy has a crush on the friend Michael brought home with him. The other Michael, as we call him, is charming enough, but Lucy has it bad.

Here's a cutie. Fine, boys. Keep off the grass.

I would advise moderate Muslims to speak out now. I am angry. I have the vote. I will get your asses deported back to the middle ages. This story will work.

Me? I can walk. It would do me good.

And crawfish!

Sons, friends, cars, girls.

I am putting this story up, not because I am a fan of Robert Fisk, or want to malign the Coalition effort, but this is a report of the the view from Baghdad. Regardless of who was responsible for the attack on the marketplace, it's what war looks like, too.

Here is a story that proves I have no troubles. None at all.

From Obscure Store comes this story from a suburb of Houston:

A Harris County resident Thursday was ordered to pay $100 a day until she cleans up her front yard of "natural" vegetation that has angered her homeowners association.

This is my destiny if I don't crawl "out there" by April Fool's Day. Does clover count as "natural vegetation"?

Yowza!

Dumb criminal story here.

By gosh, I'm beginning to like that Donna Brazile. (Via The Corner.)

LATER: I have been filtering stories like this through the information in the story above. Donna Brazile ain't no "skeeza" neither.

I could've sworn I had Fritz Schrank on my bloglist when I started on this enterprise, but I see him no more. Let's try again. Sneaking Suspicions.

Many months ago, when I first started this weblog, a story came from Sydney, Australia, through that inimitable source Tim Blair of a parrot stolen from a pet store. Hector, the 31-year-old galah, or rose-breasted cockatoo, had been taken from his cage by a couple of silver-haired ladies. I have been checking on this story from time to time on Google and finally found the resolution to the story the other day. Here it is, from Persons Missing News, a source for missing persons in Australia. As the source does not provide a link, I will reprint the feature on Hector here:

7 August | The Daily Telegraph 7/8 p13 by Stavro Sofios
Hector thieves make contact - Breakthrough in the parrot-napping mystery
HECTOR the abducted galah is alive, "safe and happy" with the animal liberationists who stole him - and his owner doesn't necessarily want him back. The kidnappers made contact with The Daily Telegraph yesterday, claiming the 32-year-old parrot was freed from his "prison-like existence" to live with other birds in a large enclosure. The liberationists received qualified support from Hector's owner Doug Eyre, who offered to give up the community icon if they could prove the galah was now in a better environment.
"If you can show me he is happier in this new place, then keep him. Let him live out his last days happy," the West Ryde Pet Shop owner said yesterday. "My family needs closure, the people around here need closure and I won't push for charges if we can talk about it face-to-face. "If you really think this was the right way to go and if you're part of a fair dinkum liberation cause, why not prove it to us? Show me Hector in a good aviary and I might not take him away."
Expert analysis of the letter sent to The Daily Telegraph reveals it was written by the person who stole Hector and is also consistent with witness reports of the kidnappers -- two greyhaired women in their 50s with a "social conscience". The women took Hector, in his distinctive cage, from the footpath outside the West Ryde pet shop on July 20. The theft caused community uproar, with a reward of $7000 quickly offered for the return of the popular bird. "It says something about our society when $7000 is rewarded to put a galah back into a miserable existence in a cage no larger than a couple of milk crates rather than $7000 being offered to release a bird to his or her natural environment," read the letter, printed on a laser printer and sent in a yellow envelope. "Hector is safe and happy. Hector has not been released in the wild but now has the freedom to move around in a very large enclosure enjoying the company of other birds."

The owner gave his consent. Don't expect mine.

The stupid little bastard who threw the grenade into the commanders' tent is one lucky little SOB. Throw him into the town square here. Dionysus would be disappointed.

UPDATE: My husband won't accept that language. I invite my women readers to offer other suggestions.

Odd Todd has a new cartoon up. And check out the rest of the site, especially "Daily Good News".

It is a glorious day in our tiny burg. Temperature 66, sunshine, windows open, the crack of the bat from the games on the field behind the houses across the street. Sounds like "Donna Reed", doesn't it?

Despite my post below, don't think I'm looking at this war with a casual eye. I sat through the last Gulf War with a different man who had a son in the reserves. He waited every day dreading the news that his son was called up. I cannot imagine the anxiety of parents who know their children are on the front lines, and I cannot imagine the grief of parents losing their children in this conflict, or wives, or husbands, or children of men and women in service.

God have mercy.

Operation "Profound Dismay and Disgust" was a success. Unfortunately, many targets appeared to have been vanquished prior to attack. DNA experts will be required to identify certain specimens. While we can currently report that the area has been sanitized, we cannot guarantee that the area will not require further attention.

The big boys are covering things just fine. There's little I can add from my small town in Louisiana. So I am going to turn my back on "Shock and Awe" and turn my attention to cleaning my refrigerator -- "Profound Dismay and Disgust".

Reports are coming in that oil wells in Iraq are on fire. Here's a story addressing the companies that might be called in to quench those fires.

UPDATE: Here's a more detailed article that includes firefighting techniques.

There you go. It has begun. 8:45 pm, Wednesday, March 19, 2003. My military mothers have asked for prayers. I'm sure all the others have, too.

The fantasy baseball league will be meeting here tomorrow night, except for the two boys out of state. Let's see, that should be eight. We'll need some snacks. I have kangaroo sticks left from February. What else? Polish sausage? Spanish olives? Dutch cheese? Italian bread?

Friends of ours have experienced a strange repetition of events this weekend. Twenty years ago, their son was outdoors and heard strange bird sounds. He searched about, and found that the source of the noise was a cockatiel in the branch of a tree. He tempted the bird down and took it inside. They tried to find the owners and failed. The bird became a family pet for ten years.

This weekend, the father was outdoors, heard a strange sound in the trees, and looked up to find a cockatiel. The bird lit on a ladder and jumped onto John's finger when he offered it. Now they are searching for the owners. If they don't find any, they'll keep the bird.

UPDATE: The owner responded to the ad placed in the local newspaper and claimed the little guy. Good news all around.

The sirens are sounding. A tornado is over our parish.

UPDATE: A friend of ours who has a ham radio told us that two tornadoes touched down a good piece west of here. Apparently, the worst has blown over. Now we just have a garden-variety thunderstorm.

Most of us are familiar with Meryl Yourish's Eat An Animal For PETA Day campaign. She received an e-mail from a critic that she dissected in this post. The writer writes:

I would listen to what you had to say, if you really tried to tell me why I should eat animals for a day. Why don't you tell me and others why we should eat animals for a day?

I have a little story apropos of this question. I'll try to keep it short.

From 1978 to 1983 I lived in New York City. I fell in with some New Age thinkers. Katherine, in particular, was a vegetarian of the ilk who believed that it was a spiritual necessity to refrain from eating meat. I never had philosophical qualms about eating meat, but to tell the truth, it was inconvenient in the neighborhood I lived in to find meat to cook. It was far easier to pop around the block to the green grocer's and pick up veggies and grains for meals. I also ate dairy and eggs, and spent some effort making sure that I had a complete diet, considering.

When I returned to Dallas in 1983 I continued with the vegetarian diet. One night I was leaving downtown with my pal Sam to go eat Indian food. I stepped badly off the curb and fractured my foot -- just a stress fracture, nothing too serious. I went to the doc-in-the-box the next day. He applied a fiberglass cast, and told me to report back to him in four weeks.

When I returned to the doctor he took x-rays of my foot. After four weeks, NO knitting had taken place. The bone was as clearly fractured as it had been in the first place.

From that day, for the next three weeks, I ate a rare roast beef sandwich and a large glass of milk for lunch every day. After the three weeks, I returned to the doctor and the foot was healed enough to remove the cast.

That's why I eat an animal a day.

I agree with this war much in the tone of Thomas Nephew and Gary Farber. But no one should go forward without reading this post by Salam in Baghdad.

Here's a cheerful departure from the common scum e-mail. 25,000 recipes from Italy and around the world, and I can speak only a few words of Italian. Chow, hon.

Regardless of how low I might feel, a quick trip to Molli Ann's to see how handsome little Sean is growing always cheers me up. She doesn't even know she has a fan.

UPDATE: I might have to delete this post. Sunday night I dreamed that I was mother to not one, but two chubby baby boys. Eeeks, NOT NOW!