Pepsi Needs Coke

I was flying from Philadelphia to Orlando one evening in May, during the National Hockey League playoffs. As it happened, the Philadelphia Flyers were playing the Tampa Bay Lightning and Tampa Bay was getting the better of Philadelphia. The Florida-based flight crew periodically announced game developments, razzing the Philadelphians gently, at least at first. The passengers more than rose to the bait, responding with boos and catcalls. Tampa Bay won the game about the time we touched down and I felt a distinct mood shift from good-natured jocularity to something more tense. I wondered why. It’s only a game, right?

Identity in America is changing. A century ago, we knew ourselves by our region, state or hometown. The new immigrants clung to the ethnic enclave or the religion their parents brought from across the ocean. Trades, even 40years ago, were roughly divided on lines of national origin – Italian stonemasons, Irish painters and plasterers, German tool-and-die makers.
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Duty Now for the Future

This week’s news features a British government report that says her majesty’s intelligence service grossly misinterpreted and overstated the threat posed to Middle Eastern stability by Saddam Hussein. There were, they now admit, no weapons of mass destruction and what the analysts thought was evidence of WMDs, well that was just wrong. The report goes on to say it was not Prime Minister Tony Blair’s fault – his incompetent intelligence advisors misled him. The Brits made the kind of mistakes anyone could make, if “anyone” is defined as the Central Intelligence Agency. Last week, a report by the U.S. Senate said our intelligence analysts made essentially the same mistakes. Hmm, go figure. As was the case with Mr. Blair, the Senate reports no undue pressure on the intelligence people from the White House. If only the analysts had read the data correctly, there would have been no Iraq invasion, George Bush and Mr. Blair would have had stood their armies down and the reservists would have gone home to their families.

It’s a real shame, that’s what it is. What are the chances that two of the most powerful men on Earth would both get the same kind of bad information, information that would cause the mistaken invasion of a sovereign nation?
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Getting Layed

Reading the news this week, it occurs to me that not only does history repeat itself, but the intervals between repetitions are growing shorter.

It was announced Wednesday that an indictment against former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay is due to be unsealed. Mr. Lay – “Kenny Boy” to George W. Bush – was one of the president’s top-grossing fundraisers in the 2000 campaign. He was rewarded with something approaching veto power over federal energy regulators, if not power over selecting the regulators himself.

Enron’s financial officer, Andrew Fastow has already pleaded guilty and is cooperating with prosecutors; Mr. Lay’s right-hand man Jeff Skilling was indicted 35 times in February.
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Cloth Can Be Very Important

When I was in high school, Mr. Chadwick the gym teacher once sentenced me to 50 push-ups saying, “I never heard President Ford use that word.” I don’t know if Mr. Chadwick is still teaching, but if he is, he’ll have to look beyond the highest level of the executive branch for examples oratory decorum. It’s come to this. Vice President Dick Cheney last week used the foulest of language to encourage Senator Patrick Leahy to perform an act widely held to be physically impossible and if it were possible, the Republicans would try to outlaw it. Two days later, Mr. Cheney went on Fox tee vee to brag about how good cursing makes him feel.

As one ages, it’s wise to get a checkup around one’s birthday and 228-year-old American democracy is in terrible shape. In Washington, DeForest “Buster” Soaries, head of the recently-created federal Elections Assistance Commission has been wondering out loud to the Associated Press about whether he should find a way to cancel the national election if there’s another terrorist attack.
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On the Bus

Two or three times a week, I commute from my house in Burlington to the state capital Montpelier, 40 miles away. It takes about an hour each way and the hours I spend commuting are among the most relaxing I spend all week. I ride the bus.

I know, I know, I’m not supposed to like riding the bus and I’m really not supposed to admit it. Americans, real Americans, are supposed to have a genetic antipathy toward mass transit. I tried disliking the bus, I wanted to find fault, but I just couldn’t do it. I’ve been commuting one place or other for over 20 years and I’ve tried almost every means of locomotion from walking to bicycling to cars (and carpools) to the subway and the bus.
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Humiliation, Revisited

In 1995, I was among a number of Greenpeace activists arrested in a non-violent protest at the French ambassador’s residence in Washington, DC. We’d embarrassed the Secret Service, so when we got to jail, they gave us the treatment. We were strip-searched, placed in handcuffs with restraining belts and leg shackles. We were rousted from our cells in the middle of the night, handcuffed to a murderer each, doused with water and taken to the only air-conditioned holding cell in the district. They turned the AC on high.

In 1998, another Greenpeace action, this time it was angry police in New London, Connecticut who decided to impound our clothes as evidence and brought us into court in our underwear for arraignment.
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Reagan Lives

George W. Bush recently told Bob Woodward that history’s judgement of his presidency doesn’t matter to him, because he’ll be dead. If he’s right, history can commence judgement of Ronald Reagan’s presidency, but Mr. Bush is wrong, at least in Mr. Reagan’s case. He may be dead, but it’s too soon to draw a complete picture of his presidency, his 16 years in the shadows notwithstanding. Too many things he set in motion have yet to come to rest. There’s an eerie sense of time warp this week, as the Reagan retrospectives share the same broadsheet with current news. Readers can be forgiven if we momentarily lose track of which was then and which is now.

In current news, Mr. Bush wants to move John Negroponte from the UN to the embassy in Baghdad. In the Reagan 80s, Mr. Negroponte was ambassador to Honduras and sponsor of the Contras, shielding Mr. Reagan’s illegal war from congressional scrutiny. His co-conspirator Elliott Abrams is back in the executive branch and until recently, Iran/Contra mastermind and whack job John Poindexter was hiding somewhere in the Pentagon. National goody two-shoes Colin Powell was on the Reagan team, too.
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