Springtime in Paris

One afternoon the April before last, I was walking home from the market in Seattle when I came upon two rather amused gentlemen about a half a block from my apartment. As I approached, I quickly discovered the source of their guffaws, as I spied a comely young mallard couple in a small alcove doing, er, what the birds and the bees do, while emitting a few quivering, quavering quacks. One of the gentlemen kept exclaiming "It’s springtime in Paris!" and then bursting into fresh gales of mirth. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud myself.
Not since that April afternoon two years ago have I had that sense of joy; of amusement, tinged with a bit of bawdy naughtiness, and flavored with the satisfaction of nature taking her rightful course.

Until now.

I just completed reading Truthout’s day-long, moment-by-moment coverage of Alberto "I Don’t Recall" Gonzales’ tortured (damn right pun intended), quivering, quavering performance before the Senate Judiciary Committee today; maybe, at long last, this is the beginning of the end of the Nightmare. While personally I wouldn’t mind if Congress employed some of the methods of truthseeking recommended by Gonzo himself for "detainees", if only to find out how quaint the Geneva Conventions would seem now, I’ll have to quell my more base carnal needs and be satisfied with the bipartisan grilling dished out today in our fair capitol.

Needless to say, broadcast evening news barely bothered to cover the hearing, especially in light of the horrific events that occurred at Virginia Tech earlier this week. My heart goes out to the family and friends of those lost, but perhaps it’s time for the glare of the spotlight to move on and allow those folks a chance to grieve outside of the media Petri dish. And I can’t help but remember that as horrible as Monday morning was, by Monday next other killers, some suicidal, some not, will have probably snuffed out in a week as many American soldiers, and certainly far more Iraqis, than the sad, deluded fools at VT, Columbine or on the University of Texas clock-tower ever dreamed of murdering.

In light of that, and all the other distractions being offered up by corporate media, I’d like to offer a big hat’s-off to Truthout and their writers, specifically Scott Galindez, Victoria Harper, Matt Renner, Jason Leopold, and of course William Rivers Pitt, for their blow-by-blow accounts of the gaffing of one of the first "big fish" of this administration. A special shout-out is in order to Jason, for reporting the response from the observers and protesters at the close of the hearing (na na na na, na na na na, hey hey hey, goodbye), as well as the tally, kept all day by a member of the gallery, of 74 separate responses of "I don’t recall" by the guest of honor. In the words of the late Mr. Gleason, "how sweet it is".

My friend Enigma has been waiting for her Watergate Summer. I hope it’s coming quickly on the heels of my Springtime in Paris. Au revoir.


full coverage at http://www.truthout.org/AlbertoCongress.shtml