If my calculations are correct (and my use of the word “calculations” is perhaps overreaching since I’m talking about basic arithmetic, here; but in the age of newfangled technological devices like “calculators”, I’m fairly impressed with myself when I can count to ten without assistance), there are nine days remaining of 2009. Which means there will never again in my lifetime be double-aughts following the first digit of the year.

(or in anyone else’s lifetime, lessen someone figures out that whole immortality thing in the next 900 years without humanity extinguishing itself first, which I suppose someone very well may; a thousand years isn’t all that long, after all.)

For some reason, my brief encounter with double-aughts after the first digit of the year, and the end of this brief encounter, mean something to me.

It occurred to me a little too late to really consider exactly what it is that the double-aughts means to me, or why I might miss it, but I’ll speculate here, briefly, and then move on to discuss exactly what it is that had me wide awake four hours after drifting off, when I could have actually slept in today and gotten a full night’s sleep (whatever that means), had my body only permitted me to indulge.

So, a brief speculation on the Significance of the Double Aughts.

Hrm, well, from a purely aesthetic standpoint, there is a lovely symmetry in the two zeros between the first and fourth/final digits of the year; not only a symmetry, but a space, a breath, between the chaos of the years…

(okay, I’m enjoying totally overanalyzing this: I live for this shit!)

So, the two zeros in a sense hold the center, provide an anchor of serenity and space in an otherwise tumultuous world of concrete value and cold calculations -

The Double Aughts represent a sort of breathing space, the eye of the storm, an opportunity to write a stabilizing force, a  counterbalancing neutrality, into each day.

Now, we will no longer have that reassuring serenity and breathing space written into the code of each day.

Now, I suppose, we are fucked.

(I don’t really think we’re fucked, not any more than we usually are, at any rate, but it seemed like a nice, snappy way to end my Speculation on the Significance of the Double Aughts.)

And now I believe I had told myself I was going to arrive at the thoughts that had me awake earlier than I intended this morning (nothing particularly exciting or revelatory, so please don’t get your hopes up) -

Well, since I spent so long on an unanticipated bloggery detour (the speculation on the significance of the Double Aughts), I will make this next bit very brief:

I have been thinking of late of two themes, possibly titles, for a series of work — could be two series of work, or they could combine into a single series. And by “series” I mean a series of scenes, or short pieces, or maybe just a single play. I really don’t know, only that I’ve been mulling over it for quite a while now, and found myself thinking about it of late.

The two themes are: 1. catalog of Failure; and, 2. the excavation series.

I use “failure” not in a pessimistic way, but I find instances of failure so much more interesting than instances of success; I find I generally learn more from failing than from succeeding (using the words “failure” and “success” in the fairly traditional, obvious sense; not the “oh I thought this thing was a failure, but in reality it was a success because x,y and z happened as a result”), and failure also makes for some funny shit. Also, Failure tends to make a Human that much more relatable. Not that I’m anti-success: go success, it’s awesome. But I’m talking, here, about ideas for something I’m working on. This is nothing new, I’m just thinking about it – perhaps I’m drawn a bit too much to silver linings, here, I don’t know. We’ll see.

The Excavation Series is something that could be entirely different or could be, as I said, part of the same thing. In any case, these are two ideas I’m tossing around, as the final days of 2009 continue apace.

And I suppose, before the year is out, I will do some end-of-year accounting, & take stock, & express bewilderment, and gratitude, and pissed-offedness, and all sorts of things, to properly review the last year from my own, Totally Self Absorbed Perspective (TSAP).

i just posted this (below) to facebook; i think it is the longest update i have ever posted, and now, having done so, i feel a bit ashamed & overexposed, and wonder why i felt compelled to share trivial bullshit over the interwebs. so i thought i’d make the most out of said feelings of shame & overexposure by sharing the post here, as well. more on that below, but first, the back-to-back update (which will be seen here as a single post, which isn’t really accurate):

en route to sf, 35,000 feet in the air or so, enjoying (enjoying?) free wifi. i have already received an email informing me that this free session is valued at up to $12.95. a few more months, i suppose, and this whole living-in-the-future thing won’t seem nearly as impressive; i might as well indulge the totally unmerited awe while it lasts.

(i am also impressed by being able to order coffee from the touch screen in front of me, although i feel rude taking advantage of this feature; i do it, anyway, though, since coffee is important to me right now.)

ah, it’s fun to quote myself, unnecessarily.

what did i say i’d say more of, now? ah, yes, i was going to elaborate on my decision to make the most out of my feelings of shame & overexposure by further shaming & overexposing myself in the rambles here. but now that i’ve reached this point in the rambles, i no longer feel like elaborating.

instead, i will mention that the passenger seated next to me, who was stoking the nearly-nonexistent flames of my Kindle envy earlier, is now involved in what appears to be a very intense anagramming session with the plane’s in-flight entertainment system. i am quite fond of my fellow passenger; earlier she ordered a reuben sandwich on marble rye, which came with a mini-toblerone bar. overall, she seems to be enjoying the shit out of Flight 11.

(yesterday/day 6 deserves more than a parenthetical, as DC & i encountered our first heavy Rain While Driving, and arrived in the Humboldt Park neighborhood of Chicago around 9pm, when we met our gracious hosts. we were treated to dinner in chinatown, followed by a brief tour of the city highlighting the most egregious examples/displays of gentrification (including a brand new third Hugest Wholefoods Ever, seriously), and the now ubiquitous presence of condos… but, sadly, a parenthetical will have to do. perhaps more another time.)

day 7 was heavy on chicago doings – a bit more urban adventuring than DC & i had done up to this point.

started out with some exploration of Humboldt Park, which is a really beautiful green space just a block from our Gracious Hosts’ home, and has a lake/lagoon, bird/flower conservatory (or something of this nature), rose garden, fishing sites, and, uh, a lot more. including its very own active national guard post. i loved this park (not because of the national guard post, by the way); wish i could have spent more time with it.

after a leisurely coffee/breakfast experience (fried eggs & homemade banana bread – i’ve eaten way too well on the Journey, and am now ruined for the rest of the year, when i will have to fend for myself), DC & i headed over to the Michigan Avenue bridge, & Wacker Ave, where we signed ourselves up for a boating architecture tour run by the Chicago Architecture Foundation.  i finally learned what art deco meant/looks like (and, look, aside from remembering that it stresses verticality and incorporates some kind of horizontal something or other, i’ve forgotten what it means/looks like already! uh, also something about the armchair versus wedding cake style. but i took notes, which aren’t with me as i’m typing this, so i’m sure once i re-glance at them i’ll retain more than i think. i hope). it was a beautiful day, sun shining, breeze blowing, water sparkling, so it’s kind of hard to complain – wonderful tour of the city, even if the tour guide  left out a lot of the more reality-based information received on our tour from the night before, but it’s CAF’s job to make Chicago look good, so i understand if they’re not really gonna go into detail about the surge in/consequences of condos-construction/development… i took some pretty pictures, which you can see here (okay, not yet). you can google image chicago, and you’ll get the basic idea; my photos have nothing to offer but blurriness & the associated suggestion of border-crossings & such.

after our decadent ninety minutes on the river, we headed over to the Museum of Contemporary Art, which had what i found to be a life-enriching (no irony! no irony! i left the museum feeling like a Better Human) Olafur Eliasson exhibit, Take Your Time. there were a number of installations and sculpture and photographs from the early ’90s to more recent years, including my favorites: beauty (1993 – an installation of a fine mist with a spotlight on it, it’s the exhibit’s cover image) and a room for one color or a room for all colors (again, notes not with me. so, live with the ambiguity, a theme that was actually discussed in a video interview, more discussion of discussion coming up shortly). i also watched an edited video interview with eliasson, in the educational center of MCA, conveniently located near the restrooms. i’m hoping i can find this interview online, somewhere (the museum folks weren’t sure if it or a transcript were available somewhere), but he talked a lot about some themes that resonate – how it’s good that there are places where doubt exists, and where you can experience “the friction of uncertainty” (maybe i shouldn’t direct quote that; i’m not certain those are the exact words), and some other concepts along these lines – damn, need those notes.

i also appreciated, during the interview, the following totally paraphrased exchange:

interviewer (probably the/a curator?): A lot of people are talking about the definition of contemporary art – what is contemporary art, what isn’t, what it means – what is contemporary art?

eliasson: (sighing heavily, removing his glasses a bit to rub his eyes, as if weary of the question [look at me totally unfairly characterizing his gestures], and finally, after a pause) luckily, i’m an artist, so i’m not focused on categorizing art; i’m more occupied with de-categorizing art. i’m not a curator or a collector, so i’m in the business of de-categorizing art…

(terrible paraphrase! he was way cooler & more eloquent when he said whatever it was he said. i will be looking for a transcript of this interview somewhere…imagine what i paraphrased, but much sharper, and more incisive (& less redundant), and with awesome shiny metallic glasses frames.)

okay – more on that later, perhaps – on to the third part of Cultural Edification in Chicago -

DC Sita & i were considering checking out Second City’s mainstage production, America All Better. it was sold out, but we arrived right in time to sign up for the first two spots on the wait list, and managed to make it in. basic premise of the show, which is sketch, is that everyone’s hopes and spirits are up because Obama was elected, but the world still sucks in many ways (i.e. healthcare, the economy, the war, etc). while somehow that premise already feels old, they did a great job of it, even with (what i think was) an all-white cast save the one black dude.  the first half included much belly-laugh hilarity (with lines like “we should have exposed him to the molesters; toughen him up a bit” [said by one parent to another, after their thirty-five year old son moved back in after losing his job and his condo]). also, a lot of smart takes on race in america – i mean Race in America – even if many of said takes feel overdone. except i don’t think they’re overdone in mainstream stuffs, so maybe i’m just impressed that this kind of relatively sophisticated humor took place at Second City. or maybe i’m just being a patronizing asshole.  yeah, that, probably; i am, sometimes.

second half was different; it seemed the writers were relying on the audience being deeply intoxicated by the second half, and shitty jokes/half-baked concept sketches would pass for comic genius. which, amazingly, they kind of did, for much of the 300+ house. sadly, however, DC Sita & i were not drinking, so there was much staring to be had. still, some bright moments here and there, and i appreciated (if i go into detail, it will be a later post; i’m just doing this now so i can feel Accomplished, and because i don’t think i’ll have much internet access in Reistville, PA, our next stop).

third set was all improv, and was a bit painful, in spite of the obvious skill & talents of the performers.

lesson being: sometimes improv sucks.

but overall: a very fine time in chicago. afterwards we spent some hours with our hosts, who have many stories to tell. none of which i will divulge at present time; you’ll just have to deal with the unbearable suspense.

sleep now, as DC & i have a twelve-hour or more drive tomorrow. if all goes according to plan, we should be among the Amish & the cows by nightfall.

i am sipping whiskey out of an opaque blue water bottle–a parting gift from a friend–which has two smiley faces and the words “happiness is a choice” printed on it (twice; in case you’re trying to escape the message, the message cannot be escaped. and your dignity cannot be saved, should you be the owner of said water bottle [no really, friend-who-gave-me-the-bottle, i totally love it, and am not ashamed to carry a bottle with kind of patronizing life lessons blaring from its surface. and water bottles are hella useful. but don't be offended if i eventually decide to sticker over the message part...i still love you. you're not even reading this - why am i offering a long bracketed-within-parenthetical note to you when you never read my rambles section? sigh]).

i am engaged in said activity in the lobby of a very plush lobby of a Sheraton hotel in downtown Denver, where DC Sita and i are spending our third night of The Great Journey East. DC has hooked us up with what is to me a very swank room (in the Preferred Guests floor of the hotel, no less!), but they still charge for wifi in the rooms, even in the rooms of Preferred Guests, so i have settled into the lobby here, where the wifi is free, and it’s BYOW.

we left salt lake city late this morning, and drove through utah, wyoming, and colorado on a very sunny day. that’s right – two state lines crossed. um, just like our first day of driving. but we feel very accomplished, and are very much enjoying our Glimpses of America.

so it felt fitting, amid the big sky, the red rocks, the crazy rock formations, the sweeping vistas (and even an official Point Of Interest, at one point, somewhere in Wyoming), of America, to plug in sita’s ipod and listen to an episode of This American Life. which we did. this episode about reunions. the final chapter of this episode was a piece by Sarah Vowell, which led to a discussion of how there are a number of prominent, famous, & highly talented/skilled women who have a decidedly baby-like way of speaking. i am not hating on Sarah Vowell, or Sarah Silverman, or–augh, who’s that standup comic who has a very cutesy way of speaking? can’t remember. fuck. i am losing all credibility as someone who claims to be involved in standup comedy; eh, i never had much credibility to begin with–i am not hating on them, and DC sita was not hating on them, not in particular. more, remarking on the fact that it is perhaps no coincidence that a number of women whose voices convey a somewhat childlike sensibility (no disrespect, sarah vowell! you are a highly-respected, mature, skilled writer!) have risen to fame; these women, perhaps, are perceived by The Powers That Be (i really don’t know who these powers are, and i don’t think there’s any sort of conscious conspiracy in place, okay; and clearly this is all anecdotal & observational stuffs, anyway, i’m just saying) to be non threatening, which is why it’s okay to highly laud them and have them all over the place. because they seem very sweet and, uh, non-threatening (damn, already said that. so what, i’m saying it again). and therefore, totally okay to put up there on the stage/camera/airwaves/etc. because they aren’t angry-sounded pissed-offed women whose voices convey hostility and (um) strength. not that anger=strength. i’m not saying that! stop putting words in my mouth!

RBI: who are you talking to?

long time since i’ve seen you around.

RBI: yeah. i missed you too.

it’s been so long that no one will even know what RBI stands for.

RBI: that’s okay; fuck ‘em.

come on; that’s not cool. we’re not trying to alienate people, here. don’t we do that enough? like, on a daily basis?

RBI: no. you just wish you alienated people, because that would make you kind of cool. in truth, you’re actually a very normal, approachable, non-threatening person.

no, that’s a good thing. see, you’re totally misreading me. you always do that.

RBI: are you gonna finish this post? people have shit to do. not that anyone’s reading this, anyway.

you’re totally insulting the one person who IS reading this.

RBI: so? your blog, not mine.

okay, i’ll finish the post: so, denver. we got a nice no-cover jazz show, walked along a well-lit promenade with lots of bars and closed stores and a place called Tokyo Joe’s, which was also closed. although we caught a glimpse of a slick looking one-slab-of-marble fountain with chinese characters on it. i TOTALLY wanna go back there.*

anyway. enjoying denver; people walk around here! after 10pm! they sit on park benches engaged in what appears to be earnest conversation! people play instruments, badly, on the street outside of establishments that have closed for the night! there’s a 7-eleven! and other things! oooh, all excitement for denver. but we are leaving tomorrow morning, for Kansas City, and supposedly awesome barbeque, so for now, we must part ways with Denver.

first though, sleep. at some point in the not so distant future.

*i’m totally kidding.

this morning—technically yesterday morning—my friend & artist-person whom i somehow managed to persuade to be my Driving Companion (DC), Sita, set off on our Journey Across America (JAA [i will not be using this particular shorthand again, as it seems to imply some sort of Japanese-ness, and there's nothing of the sort involved in this Journey, although there is some Japanese ethnicity in the mix, i suppose. but still]).

we got a later start than anticipated, and started our Journey (but i will retain the unnecessary capitalization of the word “journey”) slowishly, amid much festive, holiday traffic. so it took us about fourteen hours to reach Salt Lake City.

so all i will say at this point, before crashing, is that i intend to post some remarks here and there about the Journey Across America. i will even create a category in this poorly-updated blog called Journey Across America. and then all two readers of this thing can check in from time to time to see how the Journey is progressing.

so far, though, in addition to enjoying the celebratory traffic, we have stopped at a number of colorful gas stations, viewed some of the many proud casinos of America, overheard a conversation in which a toddler was referred to as 98% white by his grandmother, and survived being pulled over by a cop ten miles outside of our destination (almost made it).

[it wasn't for speeding, okay. i know what you're thinking. or i think i know what you're thinking, even though i'm probably wrong. anyway. glad we had this little chat.]

also, we have snacked on salami, peanuts, and beef jerky. so the road trip is now officially underway.

more later. now, sleep.

so last night i watched an interview on larry king live with joel & victoria osteen. apparently, though, this interview aired on december 8, 2008, but never you mind -

i was so entertained i kept watching and was late for a tasty pho dinner, which is totally out of character for me.
if you don’t know, joel osteen is a preacher based in houston, and his wife victoria does a fair amount of public god-speaking too. apparently, people pay thousands of dollars a seat to be at one of their public sermons.

i think what impressed me was how utterly unconvincing a person can be in an unscripted interview – yes, shades of palin, so i know it’s nothing new – but this is someone who makes a living speaking. so you’d think he could spin an argument better. even i can come up with a more christianly satisfying answer to the question “is faith all you need?” than “Well, I think you need faith to believe, you know.” uh. i guess. and you need to breathe in order to inhale. plus, you need to make sense in order to communicate clearly.

there’s a choice excerpt of the full transcript below – a highlight is when larry asks joel if he thinks marriage is a civil right, and joel responds: “Yes. I don’t — I’m not — I’m not sure I’m up to speed on it. What do you mean by that?”  it’s also fun when victoria reassures us that the gay people who come through their doors are nice people.

i know it’s too easy to talk shit about the famous celebrity preacher, but they kind of pissed me off while fascinating me at the same time. if you can, watch the interview – joel has a way of constantly smiling while he’s talking, and victoria starts to get a very tense look as the interview continues…
excerpt from full transcript:

KING: OK. In another area, the new issue of “Newsweek” — I don’t know if you’ve seen it yet — but it discusses the Proposition 8 study in California and the defeat of the proposal to allow marriage among gays. And it claims that the bible has many, many, many marriages among gays and that it does not come down on it. How do you feel about it?

J. OSTEEN: Well, the way I feel about it is I’m an…

KING: It’s an interesting article, though.

J. OSTEEN: Sure.

KING: You ought to read it.

J. OSTEEN: I have this…

KING: It’s very — written in depth.

J. OSTEEN: Sure. I’d love to read it. I’m not for gay marriage. Every — in the bible, I see that a marriage is between a male and a female. Now, I don’t know — I haven’t read this new one that you’re talking about. I’m not against anybody. I’m not against gay people or anybody else. But I just think that, you know, that’s — my faith is based off the scripture and that’s what I see in the bible that it should be between (INAUDIBLE).

KING: But this gives you other scripture to think about. I mean, it’s very interesting…

J. OSTEEN: Yes. I’d love to see it.

KING: …the new issue.

J. OSTEEN: I’d love to see it.

KING: Do you think it’s a civil right, though, marriage?

J. OSTEEN: Yes. I don’t — I’m not — I’m not sure I’m up to speed on it. What do you mean by that?

KING: Do people have the right to marry whom they wish to marry? You know, for a time in this country, blacks couldn’t marry whites in the South.

J. OSTEEN: Oh, yes. Yes, oh, I think — absolutely. I think anybody should be able to…

KING: But not gays?

J. OSTEEN: Well, I just don’t think that — you know, I don’t think that’s God’s best. And, no, I don’t think that’s — that’s (INAUDIBLE).

KING: Do you think that gay is a choice?

J. OSTEEN: I think that it is a choice. I do think it’s a choice. I can’t say that I understand it all, but I believe it’s a choice.

KING: Do you minister to gay people?

J. OSTEEN: Absolutely. Anybody that comes through the doors.

KING: Do they come and ask you questions?

J. OSTEEN: I’m sure…

KING: Or do they have difficulty dealing with a theology that runs against them?

J. OSTEEN: No. I think — anybody is welcome to come. They know what I believe. But it doesn’t mean that, you know, that the scripture can’t help them. And, you know, our church is not a place for perfect people. There’s not — you know, I can’t say nobody…

KING: Then I can’t go.

(LAUGHTER)

J. OSTEEN: Well, you know what I mean. So, there’s plenty of people that come in and have difficulties and have issues. And, you know, we probably all have something. But we’re open and, you know, want it to be a place of hope and healing.

KING: How do you feel, Victoria, about the gay question?

V. OSTEEN: Well, you know, I just — I believe marriage should between a man and a woman. And we do have gay people in our church. And then they’re wonderful people. They’re nice people. It’s just that we just don’t believe in that.

[the following post was written yesterday for 8asians.com, an API group blog which i was recently invited to join. we'll see how long i last before i am politely invited to un-join.]

as some of you gentle readers out there are perhaps aware, august 4th of this year marks the 30th anniversary of san francisco’s chinatown/manilatown I-Hotel eviction. today, july 26th, starts off the week dubbed “I-Hotel Home Week” by the Manilatown Heritage Foundation, and what better way to start off the somber (yet festive!) commemorating than a (H)API hour happy hour featuring performances (irreverent and/or irrelevant, you be the judge) by standup comics who were being evicted from their mother’s womb roughly around the same time elderly, low-income filipino tenants were being evicted from the I-Hotel? and drinks always make things better. and festive. and commemorative-y.

the idea is to build community & interest around the new I-Hotel Senior Housing & the Manilatown Center that now stand at the site of the original & iconic I-Hotel, which was torn down a few decades ago. so from now through 8/4 there’ll be various events (a youth organizing workshop, a Kearny Street Revival Poetry Night with sf-based poetry all-stars Al Robles, Janice Mirikitani, Jack Hirschman, Nancy Hom, Oscar Penaranda), culminating with a street fair the afternoon of saturday august 4th (the skyflakes and a bunch of other musical peoples & collectives will be performing throughout the day).

i guess i’m kind of promoting a multi-event here (full disclosure: i am one of the [possibly irreverent, possibly irrelevant, you decide] comics performing tonight, and i work with KSW)–but the 30th anniversary of the i-hotel looms large in the minds & memories of many, so perhaps there’s something worth considering & remembering here. you know, considering & remembering, like commemorating or something.

or perhaps not; you decide. anyway, some memories of the i-hotel stuffs and a bit more detail on exactly what is being commemorated can be found here. there’s also a fairly innocuous yet informative entry about it on wikipedia. commemorate, bitches.

next post: probably about vampires & piles of dead babies (you decide [not really, i’ll decide]).

the conversation i had with a friend was basically:

what prevents me from writing and posting more frequently is not, as Random Blog Intruder would have you believe, that i need to believe there is someone worse than me at it before i’ll do it; what prevents me from writing & posting more frequently is that i hate the idea of contributing to the oceans of cyberwaste spewed out by millions of bloggers with crappy grammar, spelling, and rehashed ideas that hold little or no interest for your average web surfer.

kind of like this blog.

and if there’s something important to post, there’s probably some one of the same opinion and perspective who’s faster on the draw, more articulate, and has a better-analyzed position. and i hate to be redundant. waste of time.

on the other hand, this isn’t a real-time meeting in which people actually take up precious minutage of my life rephrasing what someone else has just said because they feel the need to be heard and speak up, regardless of not actually moving the conversation forward or adding any new insight or bit of information; this is the internet, or something like that, whatever the kids these days are calling it, and no one is actually being forced to sit through this rambles section. so there’s no reason for me to feel like i’m wasting any one’s time. if you’re reading this it’s because you choose to be here. and you could be at any other site, and you can leave whenever you want to. and most likely HAVE already left and will never read the end of this sentence.

ah, liberation. now i am free to spew about whatever i wish, and rant about my hatred of insurance companies and U.S. support of Israel even though countless other internet ‘hos rant about their hatred of insurance companies and U.S. support of Israel, for similar reasons.

i don’t JUST hate insurance companies. it was just lying there, waiting for me to use it as a forinstance.

hrm. i think i need to write a manifesto of some sort. but first i should look up “manifesto” and make sure i know exactly what the fuck i mean when i say “manifesto.” i’d hate to be sloppy.

next: the ongoing progress of band name development, or BND, as The Band calls it.

holy shit:

from today’s NYT

Medicaid Wants Citizenship Proof for Infant Care

i’m one of the very last people to ever say living newborns are more important than still-living people born thirty or forty or fifty years ago (and they’re not), but holy god, requiring proof of u.s. citizenship before helping out a less-than-a-year-old baby? again, it’s not that it’s NOT appalling for an adult to be denied health care for the same reasons, but i’m no longer surprised by the sick fucks who think claiming a certain nationality should be a prerequisite to receiving treatment. but babies? these sick fucks LOOOOOOVE talking about saving babies, and how it’s not the babies’ fault, and how we should protect the friggin babies. they’re trying to protect fetuses whose consciousnesses haven’t even winked into being (okay, that’s just by some accounts, but let’s leave that for the parenthetical for now), and they do NOT want to protect warm live out-of-the-womb little ones? what’s the Right coming to?

in some ways, though, it’s so appalling that it might send a few more people running off in the opposite direction.

for reference, the baby documentation requirements for receiving health care went into effect in july this year (first i’ve heard of it, but granted, i’m hellllsa ign’int) as part of the Deficit Reduction Act, signed by (surprise surprise) bush in february. although this whitehouse.gov press release says it was signed in 2005.
ahhh. it’s so wonderfully fucked it’s gonna inspire me to write a new collection of dead baby jokes.

because there’s nothing funnier than a dead baby, eh? except mebbe a pile of dead babies. and when those babies are undocumented? priceless, priceless…

can’t wait for that remark to be taken out of context.

RBI: can’t be taken out of context if no one’s reading it but the robots, son.

WAAC: good point.