People like me who are opposed to war are often pitted against those who serve their country. This is a rhetorical trick, of course, which can easily be turned on the tricksters. After all, those who advocate sending young men and women to fight and die and get maimed in wars and occupations of choice are on thin ice when they claim to “support” the brave individuals they use as geopolitical pawns.

It’s sad and unfortunate that the military-industrial machine provides the only sure-fire jobs program for the poor in this country.

My beef is with the trap, not the quarry. (Since this is such a simple distinction, I have to assume the righties who don’t get it are being disingenuous. Or, in some cases, maybe they’re just plain dumb.)

I recently found my photo above was used on the cover of a newsletter (PDF) put out by the Navy League of Santa Barbara, a civilian non-profit organization in support of sea service personnel.*

You know I’m not going to be all rah rah for this group, or agree with them politically on much (if anything). But we can surely agree that, whatever our political differences, the life choices of individual sailors, soldiers, marines and airmen are not at issue.

(Did I ever mention I was a finalist for a Navy ROTC scholarship before withdrawing? How different my life might have been if I’d gone to sea as a junior commissioned officer instead of on the road with a band of hippies. And speaking of my photos being picked up, the ad agency that was putting together the annual report for NW Natural — sheesh, another Neil Goldschmidt connection — bought the rights to use this photo, but they never used it, apparently, at least not in anything I could find publicly.)

*The photo, like most of my photos on flickr, is offered to anyone for free use under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution, Noncommercial, Share Alike license. My thanks to the Navy League of Santa Barbara for adhering to this license and giving proper attribution. I’ve found several instances where people have felt inclined to use my photos without following the simple terms of the CC license.

The wife and I have been at this Internet publishing thing for quite a while. Fourteen years, to be exact, since we experimented with a Web-based literary arts magazine called the LuLu Revue in 1998.

More Hockey Less War, which turned six-years-young this month, is one of our more recent endeavors. Wacky Mommy was the first fully-featured blog hosted on our own servers, going live seven years ago this month. We also ran an experiment in citizen journalism with PPS Equity from 2008-2010.

I started ranting from the left with our first “Wacky” domain, Wacky Monkey, in 1999. I also developed (for hire) a Web-only vintage clothing store in 1999, and developed and hosted various political and public service Web sites throughout the aughts.

As we enter the twenty-teens, we’ve counter-intuitively stepped into the realm of book publishing, both e-book and paperback. Yes, despite our mad tech skills, we’re bibliophiles at heart, and we’re working on tools to take advantage of (and help define the direction of) this disruptive phase of publishing.

We’ve consolidated all of our publishing endeavors — Web, books and soon music — under the imprint of New Deal Media. We’ve got other things we’re dealing with (family life, working for a paycheck), so this publishing thing is (so far) a side project (or, more accurately, a series of side projects). I can’t wait to see what the next 14 years bring!

Since we’re not fans of American football or television advertising at Chez Wacky, we spent the day eliminating lawn in our front yard.

A couple fruitful trips to Farmington Gardens, a yard and a half of dirt and mulch and about a dozen plants later, and we’ve got a good start on our front yard. The lawn has gone to mostly moss (not that I mind moss), and I don’t have any desire to restore the grass.  We converted about 20 percent of the grass in the front yard to planting beds.

We’ll do more soon, including another Japanese maple.

Among the new plants: two daphne odoras, an upright fuchsia, a white cone flower, a phlox, and some others I can’t recall. In the side yard planters, under a shady pine tree,  two already-fragrant sarcococca confusa and two geraniums.

It was a beautiful weekend to work outside. Sunny and mid-50s. Zone 8 rocks… plant baby pictures to come soon!

A collection of Anna Griffin’s tweets, compiled and mashed up by Fred Leonhardt. (Anna Griffin is on leave from The Oregonian, but will once again grace its pages with her substantive musings soon).

Tomorrow’s column

Tomorrow’s column
is decidedly mediocre
and touchy feely.
I apologize
and promise that Saturday’s column
will be
snarktastic and meaty.

Thursdays

Is it time for Project Runway?
Is it time for Project Runway?
Hell, is it time for Jim and Pam to get married?
I love Thursdays …

Life is Weird

Life is weird:
Working in a coffee shop,
sitting right next to a guy who is reading my column
and oblivious to my presence.

Starbucks

On the blissful Monday agenda:
homelessness
unemployment
prostitution
campaign finance reform,
sore throats
nasty headaches and
snot galore.
Anybody got any happy news for me?
I am thankful for coffee
There is no amount of bad morning that a maple bar and coffee cannot fix.

My Basic Philosophy

My basic philosophy:
If they have a maple bar,
you buy it.
Not hungry?
Watching your weight?
Doesn’t matter.
A maple bar trumps all.

Bag, Dang It

A co-worker just referred
to my cute little bag
as a purse.
I am 99% certain
I never have carried a purse.
It’s a cute little bag,
dang it.

Ode to George Clooney

I dreamed I was pregnant last night
It’s been a long time since I was this happy to wake up.
Dear George Clooney:
Next time you appear in my dreams, could you ditch
the horn,
tail
and weird lizard tongue?
Actually, keep the tongue.

Badass

When the badass black boots
in my giant size
are marked down from $110 to $60,
I’m meant to buy them, right?
Isn’t that a sign
from above?
Tom McCall,
any way your ghost might come show us the way?

B.J.

Headed to a kiddie bday party featuring
B.J. the Clown.
I just bought real pork sausage
Now I feel naughty.
Neil Goldschmidt, could you lend someone your vision,
if not your morals?
And yes,
I’m 13.

Last year, when Eileen Brady declared her intent to run for Portland Mayor, I started trying to draw attention to her and her husband’s anti-labor past with Nature’s fresh Northwest and its successor, New Seasons Market. Portland’s non-union (and often anti-union) media missed the boat completely and gave her a pass when she claimed credibility as a “progressive” employer.

Now Nigel Jaquiss, one of the few reporters in town who not only “gets it” on any number of issues, but also has the editorial freedom to “write it,” has dug up a remarkable passage in the New Seasons employee manual Brady takes credit for writing (her paternalistic husband claims he wrote the passage in question).

Labeling unions “extremist” and lumping them in with “anti-human rights organizations,” the manual appears in conflict with federal labor law (which guarantees workers the right to talk with and about unions).

Read Nigel’s piece to get all the hilarity of Brady’s husband Brian Rohter (who screamed sexism at an earlier WW piece) trying to shield his wife from criticism on this.

Way to go, Nigel. Glad there’s at least one reporter in Portland who is willing to probe Brady’s questionable past with regard to organized labor.

Update 2/1/2012 2:00pm: Brady’s campaign wasted no time getting a defensive e-mail blast out (read it on her campaign Web site).

Through the fog, the light exposes the truth.

If justice had been served in the case of Neil Goldschmidt’s serial rape, he would now be in prison, or, if he’d already served his time, he would be a registered sex offender.

If, as he said, he started raping his victim when she was 15, he would have been convicted of one or more counts of third degree rape, a class C felony.

If, as she said (may she rest in peace), he started raping her when she was 13, he would have been convicted of one or more counts of second degree rape, a class B felony.

Second degree rape is an Oregon Measure 11 crime; each count carries a mandatory minimum sentence of 6 years and 3 months.

In either case (second or third degree), Goldschmidt would have been branded a convicted felon and compelled to register as a sex offender after serving his time, likely as a predatory sex offender. As such, he would be prohibited from schools, parks, day care centers, skate parks, or other places minors congregate.

So, Krista Swan, you may have your feelings hurt by getting called out on this, but think of it this way: if justice had been served, would you be as giddy to have run into a registered predatory sex offender at the West Café, and would your friend April Severson be honored to be on his top five list? Would you write about it and post it under “Family” on your mom blog? What if it had been Jerry Sandusky instead of Neil Goldschmidt?

You ask the twitterverse “Does it mean I’ve ‘made it’ as a blogger when I start getting hateful, ‘What kind of mother are you?’ comments on the blog?”

What do you expect to hear back? “Oh, it’s okay that you venerate a child rapist. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t go after your daughter.”

I’m sorry you think we “suck” for pointing out how disgusting it is to pay homage to this sick bastard. Maybe you should consider how much it “sucked” for Goldschmidt’s victim, knowing that if she went public, she’d be pilloried by people who still worship Goldschmidt, who still think he’s “the man.”

The fact is, Neil Goldschmidt didn’t just repeatedly rape a teenager. He destroyed a human life. Was that life worth nothing in the end?

From within the hermetic little world of Portland’s elites, it must create a great deal of cognitive dissonance to hear Goldschmidt called what he is: a child rapist, a destroyer of human life. After all, so many people in this little berg owe their careers, wealth and status to the patronage machine he created.

As his victim said, “Neil Goldschmidt is God.”

But from outside that incestuous world, to normal parents fiercely protecting their children above all else, he’s sick and dangerous. He needs to be separated from the herd, not revered, not allowed to re-emerge as a public figure whose opinion is to be valued.

The “conspiracy of indifference,” as Fred Leonhardt called it, must finally be exposed and destroyed.

So here’s what you do, if you’re at a restaurant and a known child rapist (say, Neil Goldschmidt) walks in: Inform your server that you are not comfortable dining in his presence. If they seat him anyway, get your food packed to go, get up, and walk out.

Update 2/6/2012: Krista has, to her credit, removed the offensive post about Goldschmidt.

Update 2/9/2012: Evidently, the post was only removed by accident. Or maybe Krista wants to stand up to the Internet Meanies. In any case, it’s back. Some people have no shame.

A friend tipped me of to this blog post, by a local blogger Krista Swan, giddy over her encounter with child-rapist Neil Goldschmidt. He flattered Swan’s friend April Severson with a spot on his list of top five Oregonians.

At the top of the list is none other than Phil Knight, who recently made national news making excuses for Joe Paterno at the late football coach’s funeral.

This isn’t the first sign of Goldschmidt trying to rehabilitate his image. Was this blog post encouraged for that purpose? We’ll never know for sure. Swan might be playing his useful idiot, or maybe she was genuinely charmed by him.

She posted a link to her blog post on Facebook, and got some sickeningly saccharine responses.

“He always knew how to charm the ladies,” comments one of her friends. Sick sick sick sick sick.

Swan’s blog post was filed under “Family.” Somebody better tell Krista’s daughter to stay the hell away from this predator as she gets older. It doesn’t sound like her mother is likely to protect her.

Update, 1/28/2012 8:20pm: I see Steve Duin beat me to this by a couple days. I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks this is really, really off base.

Update, 2/6/2012: Krista has removed her blog post about Goldschmidt.

Update 2/9/2012: Evidently, the post was only removed by accident. Or maybe Krista wants to stand up to the Internet Meanies. In any case, it’s back. Some people have no shame.

@Wacky Mommy woke the dead with her scream when I uncovered the little darling.

The sunrise wasn’t as dramatic today as yesterday, but I had my camera ready. Music played by me some time in the 90s, recorded on a 4-track cassette recorder. J.V. Owings “Musette” for 4 clarinets. (Sloppy edit at the end; still learning how to do this video stuff!)