On Monday, two professional bloviaters, much more accomplished than myself, founded and set the proverbial Gold Standard for the new NPA or National Panderers Association.

Each targeting their specific audiences on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, they both bled, emoted, raised their arms to the sky and did their level best to pitch ridiculous themes that, unfortunately, their respective audiences thirsted to hear.

First, the nation’s most overpublicized and least thoughtful mayor, Ray Nagin:

Surely God is mad at America. He sent us hurricane after hurricane after hurricane, and it’s destroyed and put stress on this country.

Surely he doesn’t approve of us being in Iraq under false pretenses. But surely he is upset at black America also. We’re not taking care of ourselves.

It’s time for us to come together. It’s time for us to rebuild New Orleans — the one that should be a chocolate New Orleans. This city will be a majority African American city. It’s the way God wants it to be. You can’t have New Orleans no other way. It wouldn’t be New Orleans.

Now imagine, if you will, the absolute hue and cry, not to say the state and federal lawsuits that would have erupted had, for example, the mayor of Minneapolis said “it is time for us to rebuild Minneapolis — the one that should be a vanilla cream Minneapolis. This city will be a majority caucasion and white American city. It’s the way God wants it to be. You can’t have Minneapolis any other way.”

Pandering, Ray. Pandering. Good job!

Let’s also consider the beatific Albert Gore who said yesterday, in Constitution Hall:

As we begin this new year, the Executive Branch of our government has been caught eavesdropping on huge numbers of American citizens and has brazenly declared that it has the unilateral right to continue without regard to the established law enacted by Congress to prevent such abuses.

It is imperative that respect for the rule of law be restored.

So, many of us have come here to Constitution Hall to sound an alarm and call upon our fellow citizens to put aside partisan differences and join with us in demanding that our Constitution be defended and preserved.

It is appropriate that we make this appeal on the day our nation has set aside to honor the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who challenged America to breathe new life into our oldest values by extending its promise to all our people.

On this particular Martin Luther King Day, it is especially important to recall that for the last several years of his life, Dr. King was illegally wiretapped-one of hundreds of thousands of Americans whose private communications were intercepted by the U.S. government during this period.

Let us do what I again call the “logical extension” — at its most base, Gore is calling the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. a terrorist. A terrorist. The NSA has been tapping the phone conversations of terrorists. Not valid civil rights leaders. And this is 2006, not 1965. Gore received thunderous applause for his comments from — Democrats.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE:

A longtime believer in the basic tenets and mores of the NPA (but not an actual member), Hillary Rodham Clinton likewise became the late-day third founding member with her comments from yesterday’s Martin Luther King Day celebration at Reverend Al Sharpton’s National Action Network:

We have a culture of corruption, we have cronyism we have incompetence I predict to you that this administration will go down on history as one of the worst that has ever governed out country.

I need you to tell us what distinguishes Democrats from Republicans right now. When you look at the way the House of Representatives has been run, it has been run like a plantation and you know what I’m talking about. . .

Perfect. The Race Card on MLK Day. You’ve certainly sussed your audience well, Senator.

Welcome, all, to the NPA!

Robosquirrel at People Covered In Fish had a very salient post on Sunday which pointed out a most unnerving linkage between Iran and Venezuela — countries helmed by unstable leaders; and I am being very kind here.

I would submit: the world will simply not tolerate Iran’s President Ahmadinejad possessing nuclear weapons. The United States will not, Israel will not, Britain will not.

On Tuesday, January 10th, Iran announced that it has resumed work on its uranium-enrichment program after two years. Seals placed on equipment at the enrichment plant at Natanz in 2003 by the International Atomic Energy Agency were removed, initiating a call by the British, French and German foreign ministers that Iran be referred to the UN Security Council for violating its nuclear treaty obligations.

Even Russia expressed “concern,” and the ministers also called for a special session of the International Atomic Energy Agency. Yet given the semi-ridiculous and, dare I say, useless nature of the Security Council, the world is unlikely to see anything more serious than sanctions — or perhaps harsh sarcasm. Maybe Kofi can initiate the “Neutrons for Food” program?

For his part, Kofi Annan said Iran is still “interested in serious and constructive negotiations.” For those with the faintest dust mote of common sense: what do you surmise the removal of those seals really means? Eh?

The Washington Post reported yesterday that many countries are actually supporting the US in its stance regarding Iran:

China and Russia agreed with the United States, Britain, Germany and France on Monday that Iran must completely suspend its nuclear program, the British Foreign Office said. Although the countries failed to agree on whether Iran’s case should be referred to the U.N. Security Council, the Europeans applied new pressure on the Iranian government by calling for an emergency meeting of the U.N. nuclear watchdog agency on Feb. 2.

With all six nations declaring that they sought a diplomatic solution to the escalating confrontation with Iran, Russian President Vladimir Putin offered a glimmer of hope for a compromise. Putin said the Iranian government was considering a proposal from Moscow that Russia would produce enriched uranium for Iran, to ensure the material could be used only for peaceful purposes.

Iran has adamantly reserved the right to develop its nuclear program, stating that its intention is to produce peaceful nuclear energy. But many world leaders are increasingly alarmed by the attitude of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad — who has called for Israel to be “wiped off the map” — and fear he could be trying to build nuclear bombs. Intense deliberations began last week after the Iranian government ordered the removal of seals on equipment at an enrichment plant where it had ceased operations two years ago.

“The onus is on Iran to act to give the international community confidence that its nuclear program has exclusive peaceful purposes,” said British Foreign Minister Jack Straw. Straw added that confidence in Iran has been “sorely undermined by its history of concealment and deception.”

Allow me at this point, if I might, to ask the question that I have heard or read absolutely no one pose: why does Iran need a nuclear power program at all?

You might respond: to ensure power for its own people, its own needs, to allow it to grow, expand, prosper and power its growing industries.

Oh really? Were you aware that, as of the most recent 2004 statistics available, Iran is the 4th largest producer of oil in the world. The CIA World Factbook says “relatively high oil prices in recent years have enabled Iran to amass some $30 billion in foreign exchange reserves, but have not eased economic hardships such as high unemployment and inflation. The proportion of the economy devoted to the development of weapons of mass destruction remains a contentious issue with leading Western nations.”

Iran has so much oil that petroleum constitutes 80% of its gross exports. Iran expects to earn $44 billion from oil sales in the year to March 20, an Iranian oil official said.

So let’s do the extrapolation: Iran is almost awash in oil. It has a great amount of money coming in from these export sales. Iran could easily decide to build all the conventionally fuel-fired power plants it could possibly want — certainly more than the US could now build.

But that’s simply not sufficient. It needs to go with nuclear power.

Am I the only one to which this rings just a tad hollow?

We all know what this is about: a maniacal religious Islamic zealot seeking to become a nuclear weapons power, who already has a desire to wipe Israel completely off the map and any western nation not steeped in Islam.

Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said, on 10-28-2005:

I must say that you have chosen a very valuable title for your gathering [World Without Zionism]. Many are sowing the seeds of defeat and despair in this all-out war between the Islamic world and the Infidel Front, hoping to dishearten the Islamic world.

Such people are using words like “it’s not possible”. They say how could we have a world without America and Zionism? But you know well that this slogan and goal can be achieved and can definitely be realised.”

Ahmadinejad is speaking not just about eliminating Israel, but America. Did you read that? America.

I say it’s about time we begin seriously taking Ahmadinejad’s rhetoric at stark face value.

Clarence Ray Allen gets to set a milestone today in Fornicalia history. First, he’ll be celebrating his 76th birthday. Congratulations Clarence, and many more! I should be so lucky to live to 76!

Except, well, Mr. Allen is on Fornicalia’s Death Row and, at one minute after midnight tonight, he will be given a lethal injection and his once well-outfitted cell will be open for new occupancy.

Before I get into the objections regarding the taking of this outstanding citizen’s life, let me provide you with an official summary of his exemplary career and how he managed to get where he is today:

In 1974, Clarence Ray Allen planned a burglary of Fran’s Market in Fresno, California and solicited the involvement of two men who worked for him at his security guard business. Allen also arranged the help of a young woman to get the keys to the store and its burglar alarm from Bryon Schletewitz, son of the market owner.

Following the burglary and after stolen money orders were cashed, the young woman told Schletewitz it was Allen who had robbed the market. Schletewitz confronted Allen’s son, who denied it, and Allen himself also denied it. Allen said that something would have to be done to the young woman and he arranged her death. Allen was arrested. He was convicted of burglary, first-degree murder and conspiracy and sent to prison to serve a life sentence on March 16, 1978.

He was incarcerated at Folsom State Prison and knew Billie Ray Hamilton in prison. While in prison, Allen plotted to kill the people who had informed on him and gotten him prison time. Three days after Hamilton was paroled, he was picked up by Allen’s son at the bus station where he also asked for weapons to carry out the crimes.

On Sept. 4, 1980, Hamilton and his girlfriend, Connie Barbow, went to Fran’s Market and purchased some meat from Joe Rias. Rias went into the storeroom with Douglas White. Since it was after the market’s closing time, the front door was locked. Bryon Schletewitz and Josephine Rocha came into the storeroom followed by Hamilton who was holding a sawed-off shotgun. Barbow followed behind. Hamilton ordered them to lie down. They all sat down. He asked Schletewitz for the keys to the safe, ordered him out, and told Barbow to watch the others. She pulled out a handgun. They went to the safe. Schletewitz told Hamilton he would give him all the money. Rias later testified that when Schletewitz and Hamilton went to the safe area, he heard shuffling and a bang. It was later learned that Hamilton shot Schletewitz at close range with the shotgun.

Hamilton went back to the room and asked Douglas White where the safes were kept; White did not know and Hamilton shot him at close range in the chest and stomach.

Another shot was heard and it was later learned that a shotgun blast at close range killed Josephine Rocha.

Hamilton attempted to kill Rias, but Rias covered his face with his left arm. The blast hit his arm, blowing off most of the tissue and shattering his elbow. Hamilton and Barbow checked on the other three victims to make sure they were dead.

Hamilton was later arrested as a suspect in a Modesto robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. Among his possessions was an address book with the name of Clarence Ray Allen. Because of the listing of Fran’s Market and the names of some of the victims, investigators believed there was a connection with the murders and the Fran’s Market burglary for which Allen had been convicted. The investigation of this matter led to the arrest of inmate Clarence Ray Allen.

Allen was convicted of three counts of first-degree murder with special circumstances and was received onto California’s death row at San Quentin State Prison on December 2, 1982.

As of yesterday, the US 9th Circuit Court turned down Allen’s appeal. Governor Schwarzenegger likewise turned down Allen’s appeal. The only potential savior is now the US Supreme Court. The San Jose Mercury News reports:

Clarence Ray Allen, who turned 76 on Monday, claims that because of his age and numerous health problems, a lethal injection would amount to unconstitutionally cruel and unusual punishment.

Allen uses a wheelchair, and is legally blind and nearly deaf. His heart stopped in September, but doctors revived him to be returned to San Quentin State Prison’s death row.

He is also asking the novel question of whether longevity on death row — in Allen’s case 23 years — also amounts to cruel and unusual punishment.

A novel approach for an appeal I must admit — though ultimately without merit or a whit of common sense.

So, to Clarence Ray Allen: Happy Birthday!

And goodbye.

It snowed last night for the first time this season. I could tell it was snowing because the rain stopped and, as I lay on the couch watching a movie, it became very still and very quiet outside. I sat up and turned on the porch light. Huge flakes drifted down past the window in the light. As it is every time in a heavy snowfall, the massive flakes moving diagonally across the deck outside became almost surreal and obscured the railing a mere 15 feet away. I fell asleep on the couch with a blanket tucked over me, watching the slanting flakes dancing in the light.

In the morning, the sun appeared and everything became diamond sharp. Only about an inch of snow had fallen and, with the sun, exposed patches of snow began to melt. I watched steam waft from my trees and fence as the sun warmed their surfaces.

In keeping with my continued resolution to lose more weight, I put on a sweatshirt, hat, fleece gloves and hooked up the iPod Nano. The day was a miracle in bright colored contrasts, the snow melting on the side of the road, pines steaming in the sun. Running (more like a slow chug) back up the hill, my mind wandered.

What was the chance? Why me, why here, why now? What massive, more than massive, combination of elemental and bizarre chemical and biological circumstances placed my living, breathing sack of tissue here on this ball of rock, so that I could breath air, be carbon based, have a fiery star warming my back and positioned so perfectly that, in this season, though cold, it wasn’t sufficiently cold to freeze me in place once outside?

How was it that I could intake a gas that sustained my life, turned the skies blue, chased clouds overhead? How was it that these mountains were formed, as in the ridgeside I was now climbing? How was it that I could see such beauty in the surrounding fir trees, the patches of snow in adjacent fields, how was it that I had eyes to appreciate this at all?

I heard a sound and looked above in time to see the contrail from a jet cross through a slot in the tree canopy. What was beyond the blue? Black? The airless depths of space? Of course. The depths of infinity.

Infinity, I then thought; what was that? Could I conceive of infinity? My arms pumping and my breathing regular, listening to Three Man Army. What was infinity? I let my mind try to take me to the infinite.

It tried.

And failed.

It kept going and going and I traveled through star systems, galaxies and then wearied of the thought. Had I come across a wall? If there was such a wall in space, what was beyond that? Was it like the falling tree in the forest? Did the universe end at a wall and only go beyond when I thought of going there? No, of course not. How arrogant of me.

So then where was I placed? Was I the center of the universe? The earth? Where was I in relationship to infinity? Where was my place in the scheme of the infinite?

My mind clanked back to the reality of my labored breathing; my run was coming to its end. I crossed the tracks in front of a stalled train some 100 yards west of me. Its diesels thrummed at idle and I could feel the vibration in my lungs. Not far to go.

What about my end, I wondered? What would my end be like? Will I fear it or will my life be such that I welcome it, or will I simply be indifferent? I can’t imagine indifference. I certainly fear the end now. I still have things I want to do, places I want to see.

I watched the pines drip water from their branches onto the ground and the road before me. Water ran quickly in little rivers on either side of the road.

I came to my gate and stopped the timer. My time was a little longer than normal. My mind had wandered and evidently so had my time.

I looked once again up to the sky as clouds began to skirt about the exposed, snow-decked ridge to the north. How wonderful that I should see this. I could almost smell the clouds.

Here I was, living, breathing. Seeing wondrous sights. Pines and mountains and snow and clouds and the most vivid color blue you can imagine.

What was the chance of my being here, able to have this experience?

How miraculous.

Rebecca of Revka’s Take, aren’t you absolutely horrified and reviled that Lawrence, Kansas, should take second place in the top twenty meanest cities in the United States?

America’s harsh streets may be tougher for the homeless than they’ve ever been, according to two homeless-advocacy groups that on Wednesday released their survey of the nation’s 20 “meanest” cities for the poor.

Some of the report’s findings:
Criminalization of the homeless increasingly occurs in ways like making it illegal to sit, sleep or place personal belongings in a public space. Some police departments make more aggressive sweeps of areas known to be populated by the homeless.

Twenty-seven percent of the cities surveyed prohibit sitting or lying in certain public places, a 14 percent increase over the number of cities surveyed in the groups’ last report, in 2002.

Forty-three percent of the cities surveyed bar begging in certain public places, a 12 percent increase over 2002.

The Top 20 were:

1. Sarasota, Fla.;
2. Lawrence, Kans.;
3. Little Rock, Ark.;
4. Atlanta, Ga.;
5. Las Vegas, Nev.;
6. Dallas, Texas;
7. Houston, Texas;
8. San Juan, P.R.;
9. Santa Monica, Calif.;
10. Flagstaff, Ariz.;
11. San Francisco, Calif.;
12. Chicago, Ill.;
13. San Antonio, Texas;
14. New York City, N.Y.;
15. Austin, Texas;
16. Anchorage, Alaska;
17. Phoenix, Ariz.;
18. Los Angeles, Calif.;
19. St. Louis, Mo.;
20. Pittsburgh, Pa.

Michael Stoops, acting director of the Washington, DC-based National Homeless Coalition slapped Lawrence in the face by saying: “My challenge to Lawrence is that if it wants to continue to be known as a progressive city — which it is — it needs to quit criminalizing homelessness and arresting someone for camping, for sleeping, for sitting in the doorway,” said Michael Stoops, acting director of the Washington, D.C.-based coalition.

Lawrence, Kansas has, boys and girls, according to a 2002 study, a whole 134 persons who are bums — er, I mean, eh, homeless in that town. For Christ’s sake, I can find 134 animals within 1,000 feet of my own little cabin who are homeless. I can find 134 persons within a quarter mile radius in Sacratomato, Fornicalia who have ingrown toenails, bad flatulence, hernias and hemorrhoids, all in one package.

Big deal!

San Francisco, naturally, is bleeding all over its 11th place ranking. And here’s the best part: Mayor Gavin Newsom, who abrogated Fornicalian law and began allowing gay marriages in the city last year (only to have them all essentially annulled), created a 32-officer police homelessness outreach team that “tries to help homeless people into services rather than jail them.” Only now, the local Homeless Poverty Pimps don’t like that idea because “They (police) may be wonderfully sensitive people, but they should have social workers only doing that job. The uniform alone is intimidating.”

The uniform alone is intimidating. Gestapo? Jackboots? Iron Crosses? Let me give you a little teeny, weeny clue about San Francisco. Not too terribly long ago SFPD was driving powder-puff-blue colored cars marked with “Police Services” because it was determined by a former socialist regime that black and white cars with the Nazi-linked word POLICE was too oppressive to be viewed by the common citizen.

Let me give you another clue: when gays rioted under Mayor Diane Feinstein on May 21, 1979, about 5,000 demonstrators ransacked and rioted in the Civic Center around City Hall in response to the verdict of the Dan White murder trial. Those “White Night” riots resulted in more than 150 people injured and over $1 million in property damage. Close to 40 police cars were overturned and burned. Then-Mayor Feinstein told the police directly to let the riots go.

One final clue about San Francisco: it is a beautiful city scarred by the overwhelming presence of urine puddles and fecal material distributed flawlessly by its cultivated and nurtured genetically-deficient pool of “homeless” tweakers, crankers, psychotics, mumbling idiots and out-and-out thugs. How do I know? I not only visit San Francisco from time to time, but I do occasional business there. And in merely the last five years, for example, it has become a burgeoning haven for the bum element.

San Francisco “mean” and “oppressive” for the homeless?

Sorry. Not nearly mean enough.