On Thunder Mugs and Nasty, Bad, Naughty Boys; In Which Janet Jackson Also Appears, Sans Nipple

For those few by now who haven't seen the thirty second clip of Larry Craig telling Chris Matthews in 1999 what a "nasty, bad, naughty boy" Bill Clinton is, this Thunder Mug's for ye!



Now remember, O Readers, this is a grown man, a United States Senator no less, actually putting these words together in sentence form on national television. It shouldn't have taken the THUNDER MUG incident to force him to resign. Craig ought to have been laughed right out of office after this interview.

Anyways, at the moment, in a slight disagreement with the esteemed Solon, what Harrogate personally thinks merits emphasis (Craig the Lawmaker--homophobe, enemy of civil rights, and proponent of police-state measures--deliciously reaping the fruits of his own rhetoric and actions) is getting a lot more play than those who, like Solon, understandably would like to see the THUNDER MUG incident turned into a teachable moment about closeting.

The reason Harrogate holds this position is that he hopes that from this deluge of GOP hypocritical spectacles, the American people will eventually lose its appeitite for the type of garbage that sealed the deal for that ghastly party in 2004. Maybe, O Readers, one day a Republican aspirant for higher office will stand in front of a podium trying to exploit hatred for transgressors of the Father Knows Best myth, only to stop speaking and be greeted by eerie silence. Until finally someone in the audience raises their hand. Perhaps a miner from Utah or a displaced person from New Orleans or a single mother with no health care or a family member of a soldier sacrificed in vain, or maybe even the father of a young man recently given a life sentence for marijuana possession. And when called on, that citizen might cry out for all to hear, enough pandering you indecent, disingenuous, smug blight of human skin. Enough already. Enough of the arsinic-laced Apple Pie. We're tired of it all. Say something that matters.


Finally, it is with terrific poetical justice that Harrogate here provides for your sublime enjoyment Janet Jackson's classic video "Nasty." (Her first name aint "Baby," it's Janet--Ms. Jackson if you're nasty.)

Harrogate supposes Larry Craig in 1999 felt confident channeling Janet Jackson's spirit since, at the time of his interview, she had yet to corrupt millions of children everywhere for a one millisecond bearing of her nipple on national television.

The effects of "Outing"

One of the dilemmas in the Larry Craig fiasco is how to treat people who closet themselves. On one level there is the “Schadenfreude” element where people find pleasure in Senator Craig’s misfortune, especially since his public actions and sentiments differ greatly from his private actions and desires.

Yet, there seems to be an overlooked ethical aspect of this: how do we understand and even help those who seem to lead closeted lives? (The same can be said of Ted Haggard, whose life-long desires have been cured.)

Let me pose the following questions to you:
(1) Does the public outings of Senator Craig and Ted Haggard entice or diminish the desire of some who lives in the closet to become public?
(2) By focusing on the hypocrisy, do those who attack Craig and Haggard become intolerant of those that they should be tolerant?
(3) What is the best way to help people in the public sphere become open with their identity?

I am not sure if I know the answers to these questions, but they may be an interesting starting point.

Ill-Advised expenditures

The University of Michigan paid Appalachian State $400,000 to play and destroy its season in the first week.

Harrogate's Lovefest With Show Tunes Continues; Or, a Homage to Senator Larry "Thunder Mug" Craig

Harrogate has long been a fan of the song "Hard Knock Life," out of the true, the sentimental, the wise and the beautiful was this piece ripp'd whole and given unto the masses.

Very like the afore-honored classic "America" from West Side Story, "The Hard Knock Life" brings Harrogate to a halt like Elaine's ex-boyfriend when "Desperado" comes on the radio.

Call lines three and four of the following stanza "slant rhyme," call them "imperfect rhyme," call them the thematic forbear of what Senator Larry Craig (now "orphaned" from his fire-eating, uberbigoted base) now endures: the following verse is as good a piece of poetry as you're going to find:

Santa Claus we never see.
Santa Claus? What's that? Who's he?
No one cares for you a smidge
When you're in an orphanage




Imagine!!! Put this (Thunder) Mug in the right costume and Craig might well find his next calling, post-resignation, as a pretty convincing Santa Claus in an Idaho Mall.

Heh.

A Theory of Coelctive Action, or,

is there any morality in nature?

"The Happiest Girl in the USA": An Inspired Video Clip; And in Which Post it is Inarguably Demonstrated, Once Again, that Harrogate's Word is Gold

Harrogate recently promised
his loyal Readership that as soon as the magnificent finale to "The Happiest Girl" appeared, it would be reproduced on this Blog.

Harrogate includes the picture of Paxton and Stanton, not only because it is a really great picture of them, but also because it points up the craziness of The Rhetorical Situation to which Chase's incredible performance speaks.

The fact is, at this point at the end of Big Love, Season 2, none of the women are happy. They are all caught in unhealthy Situations that have spun seemingly outside of their control; it is getting to the point that sadness and despair impel every scene.

Barry Bonds a Fit Subject for High Art: In Which Harrogate's Brother is Introduced

Harrogate pilfered this amazing painting from his younger brother's myspace page (actual artist unkown). Harrogate's brother won't mind: perhaps even moreso than Harrogate, little bro' deeply resents all the anti-Bonds rhetoric in the media and on the street.

In defense of Michael Vick....

While the other link may not have been serious, this is an actually editorial that a newspaper published back in July. I will pos its entirety for (1) comic relief and (2) so profs can use it to discuss fallacious reasoning.

Enjoy the wisdom, err... something like that.

Don’t be too quick to judge
By Deion Sanders
Originally published on July 22, 2007

• Editor's Note: Deion Sanders, a North Fort Myers High School graduate, played in the NFL and Major League Baseball. He works as an analyst for the NFL Network and is part-owner of the Austin Wranglers of the Arena Football League. HIs column is published every Sunday in The News-Press and online at news-press.com.
Here's his column
I would’ve never thought Mike Vick, one of the NFL’s most exciting players — the man who makes the network execs smile every time he plays — would ever be indicted for crimes against man’s best friend.


The potential impact could be devastating.



He could lose millions worth of endorsements. Nike has already suspended the release of his new shoe. He could lose millions he was supposed to get from the Atlanta Falcons, if the club decides to cut him. That’s unlikely, but it could happen if he’s convicted or makes a plea arrangement.


Or his reputation might wind up so stained that he’s never forgiven in the court of public opinion. That would be too bad for the 27-year-old superstar.


This is all the result of perspective.


What a dog means to Vick might be a lot different than what he means to you or I. Hold on, don’t start shaking your head just yet. Listen to me.


Some people kiss their dogs on the mouth. Some people let their dogs eat from their plate. Some people dress their dogs in suits more expensive than mine, if you can believe that.


And some people enjoy proving they have the biggest, toughest dog on the street. You’re probably not going to believe this, but I bet Vick loves the dogs that were the biggest and the baddest.
Maybe, he identified with them in some way.


You can still choose to condemn him, but I’m trying to take you inside his mind so you can understand where he might be coming from.
I’m sure all of the animal activists and Humane Society folks have a dart board with Vick’s picture in the center of it. And if he plays this season, PETA is going to picket every stadium where he plays.



Still, I must ask the question: Where is all of this going?



By now you’ve read all of the accusations about the cruelty involving the dogs — and I’m not just talking about their duels to the death. All of that is enough to make me cringe because I have three highly-trained protection German shepherds, just in case someone wants to rob my family. 

Believe me, you don’t want to deal with them. With one German command, our dog Yascho turns into Cujo.

And for the record, I live around the corner from the police station, so it won’t take them long to show up and save you from the dogs.



Now back to Vick.



Why are we indicting him? Was he the ringleader? Is he the big fish? Or is there someone else? The fights allegedly occurred at a property that he purchased for a family member. They apparently found carcasses on the property, but I must ask you again, is he the ringleader?



This situation reminds me of a scene in the movie “New Jack City,” when drug dealer Nino Brown is on the witness stand and eloquently says, “This thing is bigger than me.”



Are we using Vick to get to the ringleader? Are we using him to bring an end to dogfighting in the United States? 

The only thing I can gather from this situation is that we’re using Vick.



Was he wrong? Absolutely. Was he stupid? Can’t argue with that. Was he immature? No doubt. But is he the ringleader? I just can’t see it. 

I believe Vick had a passion for dogfighting.

I know many athletes who share his passion. The allure is the intensity and the challenge of a dog fighting to the death. It’s like ultimate fighting, but the dog doesn’t tap out when he knows he can’t win.



It reminds me of when I wore a lot of jewelry back in the day because I always wanted to have the biggest chain or the biggest, baddest car. It gives you status.



Can I pause for a moment to ask you a question? 

Who shot Darrant Williams? Remember the Denver Bronco cornerback? I’m just more concerned about bringing to justice someone who killed a human. Or finding out who broke into Miami Heat forward Antoine Walker’s home, tied him up and robbed him at gunpoint. 

We’re attacking this dogfighting ring the same way a teenager attacks his MySpace page after school (by the way parents, make sure you monitor your kids). We should have the same passion for man that we have for man’s best friend. 

The reason this is turning into a three-ring circus is that baseball is boring, basketball is months away, football is around the corner and we in the media don’t have a thing interesting to write about.



How will this end up? I have no idea. All I know is Falcons fans better pray because Vick’s backup is Joey Harrington. Enough said.



God bless and God willing I’ll hollah at you next week.

—

Deion Sanders, a North Fort Myers High School graduate, played in the NFL and Major League Baseball. He works as an analyst for the NFL Network and is part-owner of the Austin Wranglers of the Arena Football League.

I ask all parents out there:

Why do you not have the bullet-proof stroller for your child?

It is a shame that the products are not in stock. I would most likely purchase the crib and the bomb blanket. And the riot helmet.

A Few Words On Southpaw, Art, and Patriotism: Wherein the Ways and Means of Blogging are Also Evaluated According to the Highest Possible Standards

Recently one of our Board Members, Southpaw--a best-selling novelist and the man recently voted one of the "Sexiest Men in America" by What Women Want Magazine(see his picture above to understand why)--complained to Harrogate that much of The Rhetorical Situation's history has been very deep in YouTube.

Undoubtedly, this is a Fair and Balanced™ criticism. And Harrogate would be the first to aver the all-too-unfortunate danger of a blogger getting lazy, leaning heavily on images and videos instead of doing the hard, creative work it takes to craft the kind of multilayered posts to which Harrogate's readers, for example, have grown accustomed. Think Rocky, and how soft that saga's hero has gotten by the beginning of the third installment.

Still, Harrogate much appreciates and fully stands behind the merits of YouTube and it's capacity for illuminating the intellectual and moral principles which his posts are designed to throw into relief.

Take this clip Harrogate here provides for his devoted readership: the movie performance of "America" from West Side Story , which as a play and as a movie occupies its own set of kiosks in Harrogate's personal iconic bizarre of human achievment. West Side Story operates as a tribute to Romeo and Juliet, while at the same time standing on its own as one of the most deservedly famous, and beloved, pieces of American Stagecraft and Cinema.

"America" is one of those songs that make Harrogate stop and incline his thoughtful head until it is over, much like Elaine's boyfriend whenever he hears the Eagles song "Desperado." "America" in many ways exemplifies Harrogates kind of patriotism: so much of what is to be loved about this country is celebrated not only the ladies' side of the argument, but also in the music and the overall spirit in which this piece is performed. At the same time, the gentlemen render a series of pointed critiques designed to remind us of America's very real problems--this too is part of being a Patriot, so far as Harrogate is concerned.

In terms of the eterenal Mars/Venus wars, Harrogate finds the performance very intriguing as well. That the women are seeing America through rose colored glasses while the men see the concrete jungle side of the equation: ie the virulent nativism, the economic despair, and the seemingly inviolable tendency towards balkanization that immigrants to this great country must face. And during the current immigration hysetria, it occurs to Harrogate that this song enjoys even greater humor and relevance.

This is an awesome video. Check it out!

Some Thoughts on Big Love: In Which are Also Featured Pictures of Daveigh Chase (Rhonda Volmer) and Matt Ross (creepy Alby)

As Big Love moves into the homsetretch of its second season, Harrogate has come to realize he has perhaps never been so fascinated, nor quite so disturbed, by a television program. While this is not the time to fully disquisit on the subject, using details, citing academic sources and the like, here are a few evaluative tidbits.

What really gives this show its wings is the top-flight quality of the acting. Across the board, every damned character is being brought out with extreme vividness. And best of all, this quality of acting, combined with the remarkable roundness of the characters, makes it almost impossible to get comfortable with how one feels about a given character. Harrogate likes that, in narrative. He likes it a lot.

Featured in This Post: The scheming, detestable, and yet thoroughly, tragically victimized Rhonda Volmer. Played by singing-phenom Daveigh Chase (depicted above), Rhonda has become something of a cult figure for You-Tubers and on the internet more generally. Which by the way is perfectly understandable, indeed precisely as it should be.

The first clip Harrogate provides here is an "Ode to Rhonda," of sorts, pretty funny in Harrogate's estimation: produced by an anonymous member of our thriving internet democracy.

The second clip briefly exemplifies something else: this woman is sporting one of the most amazing voices Harrogate has ever heard, period. This past Monday's episode closed out with Chase singing "The Happiest Girl" (also, fittingly,the title of the episode): her performance helps catapult the last three minutes of the episode into the kind of sublime, spine-tingling experience one rarely associates with television (Monday Night Raw being an obvious exception).

Sadly, Harrogate has not yet found a link to those final moments of "The Happiest Girl": But when he does, oh Readers, verily shall the clip be delivered into thy hands.

Until then, be tided over with her spooky Carly Simon cover.

How To Wave The Bloody Shirt With Verve: "The Two Things to Know Before Your City is Nuked By Terrorists"

Harrogate was unwinding with a little right wing punditry when he encountered this stunner by Douglas Mackinnon.

In what follows Harrogate provides the article's opening and its conclusion. He wishes he was currently prepared to offer commentary and analysis, but right now he's just sad and doesn't know what to say. Right now, more than anything, Harrogate just feels like it's important that people read this article and know that it exists, that this kind of stuff is being routinely distributed into the contemporary American soul.

What do we make of it all? What can we do?

Anyways, here is how the piece begins:

Tragically, horrifyingly, but quite predictably, it’s going to happen. The only question being which American city or cities?
In a recent conversation with a former high level intelligence operative of our government, I raised the possibility of terrorists successfully detonating a nuclear weapon within the United States. His response was sobering in its hopelessness.

MacKinnon closes with a Rhetorical Haymaker:

[the anonymous, and therefore unaccountable source] talked of critical infrastructures like water, electricity, fuel, banks, our food supply, medical services, police and firefighters, being unavailable for weeks or months. He warned of the blind panic that would follow such an explosion. Of the looting, of neighbor turning on neighbor to take what they don’t have for their own survival. Of our economy suffering an economic loss in the trillions of dollars.
Knowing this, are you prepared? Can you and your family ride out the frighteningly unpredictable weeks or months following the loss of an American city and its inhabitants? If you are not in the city hit, can you survive?
You must ask yourself this question. For, unless there is a miraculous epiphany about to be visited upon our self-centered politicians, then such an attack is certain.
If our politicians and the voters continue to suicidally put party and partisan politics before the welfare and security of our nation, then the terrorists will find the opening to hit us.
Our government and media are failing us. Prepare for the worst.

Congratulations to Barry Bonds

The world is a little different today. By far the most hallowed record in all of American Sport has been shattered. The Great Henry Aaron has been passed, there is a new Home Run King. Harrogate would so much have loved to have been there, to have witnessed history live.

What a great picture of Barry Bonds, even void of context. But then when you add context (what's a Rhetorical Situation without context, after all?), the picture exudes joy. After all this guy has accomplished, and all he has been through. After all the terrible pitches, the intentional walks, the might-as-well-have-been-intentional walks, and the insane infield shifts he has seen through the years.

There he stands, all melts away. A testament to human achievment. He is at home, thank God, in San Francisco when he hits it. Those who have stood unwavering by him for so long. It just wouldn't have been right had he done it somewhere else.

Funny. Harrogate wrote this whole long diatribe outlining exactly why all the naysayers and bashers are morons, but then he remembered. This isn't about jealous bedwetters like Dale Murphy, souless beauracrats like Bud Selig, or the seemingly endlesss supply of pencilneck whiners who call themselves sports journalists.

This is about the man who is unquestionably the single greatest baseball player of this generation, and in all probability the greatest baseball player who ever played the game. Period. It is Bonds's moment. Hats off to him.

A Cartoon by a Conservative, but True Nonetheless

The cartoonist is right. Actually, both ought to be designated "Art." Because like the cartoon and like this post, that is what they are.

Anyways, now out on bail, Harrogate slowly ekes his way back into the blogging business. Patience, folks. He'll get there. And when he does he won't take American Express.

If you could ask a question...

I watched some of the You Tube debates last night- up until Big Love started. Up until now, I avoided the debated because the election is so far away. I was a little curious about the format and because it would not have been as scripted (the candidates had some idea of what questions that would be asked so a debate can never be unscripted-- and it may be bad if it were) but this debate still possessed the same problems as other debates: (1) not enough time to respond to respond to the question or to the other candidates-- essentially to debate and (2) there is a lack of depth because there are too many types of questions-- why not have one debate on Iraq or maybe foregn policy and then another debate on domestic issues, economic issues, or social issues.

But- if were to submit a question for a debate (the Republican debate is in September), what question would you ask?

Humor for today

I watched this over at crookedtimber.org. It is entertaining:

With what level of economic exploitation....

...are you comfortable?

My wife and I watched Blood Diamond last night. It is a good movie, with an interesting point. One criticism of western style capitalism is that it pushes economic exploitation into third world countries. While there is little economic exploitation in the United States (there may be some with immigration and a low minimum wage, but these can be serious topics for debate), the economic exploitation that should be in the US is now in other countries.

For example: criticism against Wal-Mart is that it sells very cheap products that it gets from foreign nations, especially China. Since the cost to make the products is so low, the store can pass that savings on to the consumer. In the process, the people that make the products receive very little for their work, hence the economic exploitation. But people in the United States are either (1) not aware of this portion of the free market equation or (2) do not care because the prices are so low. (At one point the giant retail store mainly sold products that were made in America but that was not economically viable for a large chain that aims for the lower classes.)

In Blood Diamond, the story goes that because there is a demand for diamonds (people in the west want them for their engagement rings and other forms of fancy jewelry), that countries fight for the ability of mine and sell them. In this economic process, Civil Wars emerge in Africa to wet the appetites of the West. (There is also a sub-plot that major diamond outlets in the West do not meet the demand for diamonds by keeping the diamonds in storage so as to artificially raise the price of the stone. By keeping some diamonds off the market companies can charge more for the diamonds which are on the markets-- there is more supply available but it could ruin the profit).

And yet, with Blood Diamond, there not a rejection of buying diamonds but a
"realistic" call to action- demand that consumers buy conflict-free diamonds, which would be similar to clothing lines advertising that the clothes are not the product of child-labor.

But this post raises the simple question: how much economic exploitation are you willing to allow in the marketplace in order to fulfill your lifestyle?

This would include clothing (shirts, pants, shoes), technology, food (soft-drinks, especially in plants are in South America, which may not let workers unionize), and shelter?

Damn you Walt Whitman II

My wife, daughter, and I attended the house where Walt Whitman was born but we did not go to the Walt Whitman shopping center across the street. I am sure he would endorse that center if he were alive today.

My wife would like it to be known that she breast-fed on Whitman's front lawn, behind a tree. We are quite sure he would enjoy that as it afforded both an earth-mother vibe and public nudity.

Interesting facts:
The ghost in the armoire: Rumor has it that there is a spirit in the house though it resides in a cabinet in the birthing room. Every once in a while, the armoire shakes without reason. It appears as if modern science has not made its way inside the home.

Sleep tight; don't let the bed bugs bite: Older beds had rope for a mattress (think hammock). Before you went to sleep you would tighten the bed. About the bed bugs, you would use hair from a horse's tail to prevent being bitten.

Whitman's voice: there is a recording of Whitman reciting his poem "America." He has a very rich, deep voice to match his large, burly frame. The inflections were very old-fashioned.

May lead to an increase of glambling

In the past few days, I have seen a few commercials over and over. One is for Miraplex, which is a medication to cure restless leg syndrome.

At the end of the commercial, the company offers a few disclaimers. One line states, "If you you have an increased urge to gamble, for sexual activity, or other strong urges, please consult your physician."

An increase urge to gamble from medication?

"Damn you Walt Whitman!!!"

My wife and I ill be heading to the birth place of Walt Whitman either today or tomorrow. In honor of one of America's greatest poets, here is a tribute to Whitman by Allen Ginsburg.

"A Supermarket in California" by Allen Ginsberg

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?

I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.

Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
lonely.

Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

Berkeley, 1955