It's Only Funny Because It's True

In today's WSJ, Kimberly Strassel says we should "hug a logger, not a tree." I appreciate the political point she's making, but I have to disagree. Strongly.

Kimberly, I spent four years living behind the Redwood Curtain, living in Eureka, CA, and working just north of there in Arcata. That's serious logger country. I've met loggers, I know loggers, I've conducted interviews over coffee with loggers.

And trust me, Kimberly, when I say that nine times out of seven, you do not want to be a man trying to hug a strange logger.

Three Martini Lunch

I just had an hour-long lunch with David MSC, who is here in town on business. Well, it was supposed to be an hour, be we ended up BSing until 3.

If Dave ever offers you lunch, take him up on it. Smart, funny guy. We swapped tall but true tales for a couple hours, then he stole the tab out from under me.

While I was gone, Dawn Olsen launched her poll to dertermine the sexiest male in the Jasminlive blogosphere. I'm on the list, thus providing conclusive proof that I'm not the only one around here who sometimes starts drinking early.

Vote early, vote often. Later, Dawn will be raffling off my old boxer-briefs.

Telling Us What He Really Thinks

Taking Ron Bailey's suggestion, I visited that Newsday site featuring 35 architects' proposals on what to build at the WTC.

And goddamn near every single one of them is crap.

It's bad enough that residential architects ruin fine neighborhoods by building .87 acre cookie-cutter mansions on .88 acre lots. It's worse that they've torn town thousands of fine old ranch-style homes to do it. But these ideas for the WTC. . .

Most of them fall into three categories. We either get huge, blank plazas that would look at home in the capital city of any godforsaken Stalinst country, or squat little fortresses, hunkered down in fear of another attack, or we get wads of twisted steel that look like they were shat out of the intestines of an incontinent draftsman.

Worst of all, most of the proposals fit into that last adult cams category.

There are, fortunately, a few soaring, and even graceful designs. And you may vote for them.

Not Much Of Interest

My father-in-law-to-be arrived home from Saudi on Friday, and this is only the third time he's been here since I fell head-over-heels-goofy-in-love with his only daughter.

Needless to say, I've been spending a lot of time over at the Davis Homestead, playing Get To Know You with Pop. It's only fair, after all.

Anyway, there is a small political point to make along with all the pre-marital bliss. It's just going to take me a little setting up to get to the politics, so keep reading.

Dick (Colonel Davis (Ret.) to you) spent the last nine years running a major Saudi Air Force base. I won't go into much more detail, but it's the only base in the southwest where they fly the F-15S. People in the know now know where and who I'm talking about.

While Dick was there, he made good friends and a fine scuba dive buddy with a certain Prince Khalid of the House of Saud. Technically, "Colin" was Dick's boss (I think), but they had a lot of fun together.

But friendship only goes so far -- Dick won't be going back. He told us over dinner and drinks this weekend that he's finished working for the Saudis. He didn't go into any particulars, other than that he'd like to spend more time with his family, and maybe get a chance to learn what all his look like now.

Dick and I had a hot sex cams conversation this evening, and the important bit went like this:

Me: I never mentioned this to Melissa or Paula (that's Mrs. Colonel (Ret.) Davis), but I'm glad you're not going back to Saudi. The more I read, the more convinced I am that the whole country could fall apart. And maybe soon.

Him: Yeah, I know. Even Colin says things are that bad.

There you have it. A Saudi prince, a semi-bigwig in their own Air Force, is not-so-metaphorically keeping his private jet fueled and ready for takeoff to Switzerland.

You read it here first.

NOTE: Remember, it's only journalism when committed by a journalist.

ANOTHER NOTE: You don't pay me enough for to keep me from burying the lede, so deal with it.

THIRD AND FINAL NOTE: In less than 72 hours, I'll be married to the woman beyond my dreams.

AW HELL JUST ONE MORE NOTE: James Lileks is not only a fine writer, he's also one helluva guy. Thanks, Lileks.

Quick Stuff

I'm here. Really. Just prepping the condo for houseguests.

Condoguests?

Anyway, people start coming into town Friday, and this place is still a wreck from:

A) Moving Melissa's furniture, clothes, all worldly possessions, etc., here.

B) Not having done a thorough housecleaning for a couple of months.

So, I'm getting reacquainted with my vacuum cleaner, Pledge, and Inner Martha.

Also, I finally had to get the cat declawed, and that upset the hell out of me for some reason. Bad enough I had to take his balls, but his claws, too? Insult and injury to insult and injury.

Here's some quick analysis before I go grab some lunch.

The stock market is up after the Adelphia Assholes (my cable company) were arrested on fraud and other charges. Two reasons. First, investors see the Feds are serious about corporate abuse, so they'll trust future accounting more than they now trust recent accounting. Second, this coincides with some fairly major sell-offs by individual mutal fund investors -- an event which usually immediately precedes a rebound.

That little girl who escaped her nappers in Philly? I'd be proud to call her my own.

You'll miss James Traficant. Yeah, he was corrupt -- but he was old-fashioned corrupt. He kept some for himself, but was mostly after patronage and ego-gratification. He was far more harmless than a politician with real ambition and a taste for power. That's why the fact of a Clinton presidency bothered me far less than the idea of a Gore presidency.

Clinton was in it for the babes. Gore was in it because he knows what's best for you. Like Clinton, Traficant always put on a good show. You'll miss him, you really will.

Congress is close to passing a corporate accountability bill. I told you so more than two weeks ago:

The big story today, of course, is Bush's Wall Street speech on corporate accountability -- but even that is a non-story. Look, we know exactly what's going to happen.

Bush makes the proper political noises. Democrats say it isn't quite enough. The Leahy Bill (I think that's the right one!) will pass the Senate in pretty much its current form, then get watered down a bit in conference with the House.

Most shockingly, the President will then sign it in a dignified Rose Garden ceremony, flanked by the appropriate House and Senate leaders, and perhaps a few well-chosen wise-yet-chastened business leaders.

Like a Kabuki dance, but with less improvisation, all this will happen over the next two-three weeks, just in time for August recess and some serious midterm campaigning.

Now if you'll excuse me, there's a Trivelli's Philly Cheese Steak Hogie calling my name.

UPDATE: For those of you who asked, the wedding is Saturday, August 3.

And, no, I'm not nervous.