We could have prepared for this natural disaster--but millions cheered while Bushtard took all the money out of funds for managing floods, construction of levees, etc, and sank it into his Goddamn senseless war. He also took 35% of the Louisiana National Guard and 40% of the Mississippi National Guard and sent them over to fight, along with a good portion of their equipment. Add to that the effects of Man-Made Global Warming (leading to superheated water in the Gulf of Mexico).

Pat Robertson would say, "God lifted the veil." And he would blame it on queers, liberal, the ACLU, et al. But it wasn't God. WE lifted the veil. We saw this coming--it almost happened last year--and we did NOTHING. We brought all this on ourselves through our hubris and greed and ego distention. Fighting Squinty's vanity war (and indulging our piggishness with regard to oil) was more important than preparing for this inevitable disaster. We made our decision, and this is our sacrifice: we have lost New Orleans, the most charming, civilized city in North America. It serves us right.

I got drunk last night (the first drop I touched since March) and listened to 1920s New Orleans jazz--I just really needed to. It was worth it.

Imagine my astonishment while streaming Harry Shearer's Le Show to hear the announcer at WAMC (Albany NY) state that Utica AM station WRUN was part of their system. I'd heard that the station had been sold recently, but I'd assumed that it was being transferred to another right-wing corporate giant for business as usual. I had all but given up AM radio for dead, both locally and nationally. This changes everything. I don't know if other Uticans will be able to handle Harry Shearer (since he discusses news items they don't hear on FOX), but all I can say is "Hooray!" I gotta dust off that old Zenith!

The choice of reactionary Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger as Pope demonstrates yet again why the Church is an archaic relic with no real relevance or legitimacy in the modern world. Ratzinger is the Catholic equivalent of the Ayatollah Khomeini. For those Catholics who look with misty-eyed nostalgia on the good old days of the 12th Century, I suppose he is just the ticket. In those days when the Church ruled the world, we had peace, plenty, and only had to bathe once a year (if medically necessary).

And child sexual abuse was no big deal. Ratzinger issued a letter (sent to every Catholic bishop) in May 2001 stating that any allegation of sexual abuse of a minor by a cleric should be referred back to his office, and handled as an internal matter within the Church. The letter states that the Church's jurisdiction "begins to run from the day when the minor has completed the 18th year of age" and continues for ten years. And anyone breaching the "pontifical secret" (i.e., blabbing to the civil authorities) is subject to penalties up to and including excommunication.

Earlier, Ratzinger had written a paper for the Vatican in which he stated that homosexuality was "intrinsically evil" and a "moral evil." Obviously, this "evil" does not extend to the activities of priests with their minor parishoners, since they are pontifically shielded from public censure. (This also begs the question that how can anyone whom God created in His own image--including homosexuals--be evil?)

Regarding the excommunication issue, I think of Groucho Marx's old line about not wanting to belong to any club that would have me as a member. As for churches, Situationist philosopher Guy Debord said they should be turned into children's playgrounds. (Personally, I think that a few of the nicer architectural examples should be preserved as Museums of Ignorance.)

Churches are the Training Wheels of the Soul. As we evolve spiritually beyond a certain point, we no longer need such crutches--in fact, they hinder us. The source of Love, Laughter, and Truth shines from deep within each of us and needs no intermediary. If in the eyes of such as Ratzinger this is rank heresy, so be it. As Huckleberry Finn said, "All right, then--I'll go to Hell."

Ah, there--dry those tears! It's time to embrace our bold Darwinian future. Of course, I'm not referring to the Satanic heresy which states that man is descended from J. Fred Muggs (though that would certainly account for our roller-skating gene). No, I mean Social Darwinism ("Compassionate Conservatism") which even Christians condone wholeheartedly. It's all about Survival of the Fittest, and "weeding out" those made of inferior stuff--basic traditional American values.

One thing we have to discard immediately is the sentimental notion of "fairness"--i.e., that we are all entitled to a decent life by simply working for it. Fiddlesticks! What the true Masters of the Universe already know is that you get what you want by taking it. The truly fit are not troubled by such scruples as law or morality.

Some will deem such behavior "criminal"--but it is only criminal if you are caught and prosecuted. Otherwise, it is justly celebrated. After all, they don't call the lion the criminal of the jungle. The lion is king, and always gets the lion's share.

And those nagging for universal health care should remember that it is not compassion to coddle the botched. If God had wanted such types to survive and prosper, He wouldn't have given them diseases. Their very existence is a drain on the ecomony, which is important above all else.

Speaking of drains on the economy, "Social Security" is neither. That money is better used by those bold enough to grab it. If you worked your whole life paying into the system expecting to be taken care of in your old age, then the joke is on you. And if your pension fund is raided by your natural masters, get over it. You haven't got that much longer to live, anyway. So what's the big deal?

If you are unfortunate enough to have children, you can't go far wrong by teaching them to steal--and to steal big. Prisons are full of petty thieves. Filching a candy bar is pathetic, and is an offense punished chiefly for its vulgarity. But swiping a hundred million dollars is admirable--and walking off with a whole country is heroic. (No? Then consider just who our national heroes are.)

If you teach your children well, perhaps they will cut you in on some of the swag. At the very least they should find you a nice roomy ice floe so you can drift out to sea in relative comfort. Bon voyage!

The only good thing that I can say about 2004 is that it is over. It was a rotten year, even compared to 1979. This isn't about politics, either--not entirely, at any rate. I'm distressed that my fellow Americans haven't got the sense that Zeus gave plankton, but that falls under the heading of business as usual. I opened my last case of Saranac Pilsener on election night, and got much more drunk than perhaps I should have.

No, it was a lousy year because of the piling up of calamities, like so many police cars at the end of the Blues Brothers movie. Less than three weeks after the renewal of Bush's anointment, my mother got tired of arm-wrestling her cancer and died. My uncle came out from Washington State to stay with her (and glare at me) but he arrived almost too late to see her. She went to the hospital the day after his arrival, so all he could do was to tidy her house and snipe at me for having "let the place go." Six days later, at her bedside as she lay dead, he consoled me with undisguised scorn. "I hope you realize that you just lost your best friend. She was your biggest advocate." He then graciously refused to attend the post-funeral brunch. The latest thing I hear is that he is thinking of moving back to the area, perhaps because three thousand miles is too great a distance from which to effectively hurl brickbats.

Scarcely two weeks after Mom's funeral, my aunt, the other person with whom we would spend Christmas suffered a catastrophic stroke which caused a head-on collision and required emergency brain surgery. She survived and miraculously retained all her faculties except her grasp on reality. She is currently in a rehabilitation center, and is making some progress, but the place is too much like a nursing home and depresses the hell out of me.

Then there are all those who suffered and died in Iraq and in the tsunami, which I can't even begin to wrap my mind around. What a lousy, awful, shitty year. Phooey!

But yesterday I finally got my Smith-Premier Number One, purchased on eBay for a bargain price, and with a nice, low serial number. If you've never seen one of these machines up close, let me tell you--they're gorgeous. They really made nice stuff in 1890. With the fluted side columns and the polished nickel relief panels with daisies and cattails, it was much prettier than a typewriter had to be. (Which is why the Smith-Premier Number Two is so spartan in contrast. Still a fine machine--but plain.)