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Well, whaddya know? I opened the L.A. Times this morning and there was a column neatly summarizing the proper response to public broadcasting's panic over losing funding, and it was by, of all people, Joel Stein, whose column isn't usually, shall we say, substantial. This time, he nailed it- he merely asked why taxpayers should be footing the bill for stuff that, if we weren't paying for it through taxes, would be provided by the private sector. He also asked why we should be paying for something that's for a tiny monirity of generally well-to-do folks:

There is no other station so obviously aimed at rich, well-educated, white people. Should our government be responsible for providing Edith Piaf documentaries, 98-hour histories of jazz and baseball, Broadway shows, discussions between Charlie Rose and Yo-Yo Ma and rich people figuring out how much their antiques are worth? This is a demo that was clamoring for Alan Alda before his gig on "The West Wing."

Sure, there must be some poor people who don't have basic cable and really enjoy "Sesame Street" and "Nova." But for $400 million we could have Big Bird fly to their houses every morning and teach their kids how to count in Spanish.

The idea that market forces cannot produce shows of as high quality as the government is patronizing. We don't need the government to get Thomas Pynchon to write books or Alexander Payne to direct movies. Besides, if we have to let one medium devolve artistically, I think TV is the way to go.

Yep. I get panicked chain e-mails from friends demanding that I sign some online petition to "save PBS" or "save NPR." Why? Why am I paying so some latte-sipper somewhere can listen to "All Things Considered," or watch "Antiques Roadshow"? What's the point? Make them pay taxes so I can watch a ballgame or "Hit Me Baby 1 More Time" and listen for the screams.

Anyway, Stein's right. Read it here.

Otherwise, I did nothing today. Good weekend.

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The weekend ended last night for me- work today. I celebrated with the worst night's sleep I've had in ages- I could not fond a comfortable position, my neck hurt like hell, and the moment I finally dropped off to some semblance of sleep at about 5 am was the moment Ella the World's Most Famous Cat decided to play ball with herself by batting a pink foam soccer ball across the floor and dashing after it like Wayne Rooney on meth. It was fun while it lasted.

We did nothing this weekend, and I loved it. I've come to the realization that I'm happiest when I'm comfortably reclining with a good book in hand- I read two books this weekend and started a third, and it was sheer can't-turn-the-lights-out-yet-I'm-almost-finished bliss. I think I know what my dream vacation would be now: lock me in a bookstore, one of those big London or New York bookstores with huge inventories and multiple levels, filled with brand-new-binding-never-broken volumes and comfortable chairs. Everyone else can stay away (except Fran, that is). Let me just sit there reading. The weather doesn't matter, the city doesn't matter- just me and lots of books and lots of time, that's what I want. If that makes me a boring guy, I'll plead guilty- just let me finish another book first.

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Okay, well, THAT was pointless.

That, I should clarify, was our attempt to see fireworks from our usual vantage point. Every year, we head for a cliff overlooking Santa Monica Bay near our home on the hill to watch fireworks from several beach communities. It's a great spot, usually, and we're far from alone- a crowd of locals gathers at dusk and hangs out on beach chairs and blankets and, around 9 pm, you see the boomers go up from Torrance and Redondo and El Segundo and, on a clear evening, Marina del Rey and Santa Monica and even Malibu. It's spectacular and memorable.

But not when the marine layer rolls in. When the layer- a thick, low fog- shows up, forget it. And, this evening, the marine layer rolled in and here's what we got to see from our vantage point: the bottom half of fireworks. We saw half-circles and half-spheres and comets that abruptly disappeared, and the sky turning red and blue and yellow but only up to a certain point, above which everything remained dark, as if a painter ran out of his desired color several inches short of the top of his canvas. We stayed for a few minutes longer than necessary, holding out hope that somehow the marine layer would magically lift and the fireworks would appear, but that did not happen.

As we parked in our driveway and headed back into our house, I could hear the pops and booms from San Pedro's fireworks. Next year, maybe we should just head over there.

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From the Seattle Post-Intelligencer, a clip from an interview of political cartoonist Ward Sutton:

What's the future of political dissent in this country?

It feels at present that political dissent has been squelched and demonized. I think that what's happening is that the Sept. 11 attacks have scared some people from being vocal and has scared the media from reporting dissent because they're afraid they'll be accused of being unpatriotic. But things are changing ... there are hopeful signs.

"Squelched and demonized." Oh.

And I suppose that's why Ward Sutton isn't in several newspapers across the country, why he doesn't have a book collection of his cartoons hitting bookstores. That must be why liberal talk radio stations haven't popped up in New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Seattle, Miami, and everywhere in between. That must be why there is no "Democratic Underground" or IndyMedia on the Net. That must be why ultra-leftist "Free Speech TV" isn't on my satellite dish, offered free of charge to anyone with a Dish Network receiver. That must be why there's not a daily paper on my driveway right now called the "Los Angeles Times" that's assertively, aggressively anti-war and anti-Bush. That must be why I can't access countless web sites and blogs to read material by Markos Zuniga or Duncan Black or anyone else on the left. That must be why the government is preventing me from reading David Brock's Media Matters criticism, censoring "The Daily Show," or why they've thrown Ted Rall and Dan Perkins and Ken "Ruben Bolling" Fisher and Ward Sutton into Cartoonist Reeducation Camp.

Or maybe "squelched and demonized" is wishful thinking.

What Ward Sutton and co. seem to have difficulty facing is that for the first time, there are people who not only disagree with them, but are willing and able to point out how wrong they are. In the past, you got the news from CBS and the New York Times and Reuters, you got commentary from the usual suspects like cartoonists and op-ed columnists, and there was nothing out there to fact-check and counterbalance and open dialogue, other than the tightly edited and controlled Letters to the Editor section. Now, if the Times or CBS screws up or displays bias, someone can go on the Web and give the other side. It works both ways, too- if Ann Coulter throws a bomb, Kos is there to throw one back. Media is being democratized, and democracy is good, isn't it?

Dissent IS being heard, and it's a good thing. Judging by polls, it's also having an effect. But it's also being criticized and dissected, which is also a good thing, too. Meanwhile, poor squelched, demonized Ward Sutton is on a book-signing tour. It's tough being squelched. You have to fly coach.

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Fudgie the Whale sez:

And Tom Carvel is smiling down from the Great Beyond tonight.

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Targeted marketing at its best, from the Cincinnati Post: note the story content, then look at the Lane Bryant ad on the right. Maybe the guy can get an endorsement or something.

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The most striking thing I heard on the radio this morning- well, other than a certain Atlanta radio news reporter blurting the f-bomb (pre-delay on the Net stream, that is) when describing how she narrowly missed an accident in the storms this morning- was a BBC Radio Five Live host calmly describing how, while the show continued, part of the BBC building was being evacuated due to a bomb threat. The incident reminded me that the BBC has been bombed before, in the middle of a newscast in 1940, killing seven people. The unflappability of the people on the air this time was remarkable.

It's also remarkable to recall that London in that era was being directly attacked by air, bombed incessantly, the population forced into tube stations, yet the nation endured, gathering up its spirit to fight back and ultimately survive. I think- I hope- that the spirit exists today. But you didn't hear in 1940 what you hear now from pinheads like George Galloway, who pays lip service to the idea that the attacks were wrong but knows who he blames:

He argued that the bombings had not come out of the "clear blue sky" - the background was the invasion of Afghanistan, Iraq, photographs of abuses by US troops at Abu Ghraib prison and the continuing confinement of people by America at Guantanamo.

Mr Galloway said the West was in danger of making the same mistakes over and over again, continuing with "war and occupation as the principal instrument of our foreign and defence policy".

He added: "And if we do then some people will get through and hurt us as they have hurt us today."

Sure, and Hitler would have left Britain alone had they not gotten all uppity about Poland and stuff.

People didn't die today because Britain is in the coalition. They died because some very bad people want their version of Islam to rule the world, and they're willing to kill innocent civilians to get there. You hope that most of the UK knows that now, and that George Galloway's blather will be ignored. We can only pray that when looking for inspiration from the past, the nation turns to Churchill rather than Chamberlain.

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1. Go here.

2. Download.

3. Install. (You need broadband and a fairly powerful computer for it, though)

4. Use.

5. Get addicted.

Yes, I'm addicted to Google Earth, like Google Maps but animated and more fun. Check out things like the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum, Uluru, the Pyramids, or just places you've never seen. I've soomed in on cities like Moscow and Sao Paulo, just to see what they look like ("ooh, look! Cars and parking lots!"). It's one epic timewaster.

So go ahead, waste time.

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You knew David Wells wasn't an MIT graduate, but this, well...:

"Some guy's being aggressive with a woman, and she says no, and he keeps on doing it. Well, you know what's going to happen. No is no in anything, when it comes to sexual or you know, whatever it is. No is no," Wells said during an appearance on Rhode Island radio station WSKO on Friday. "And I'm sure Kenny said, 'Hey, get it out of my face, don't do it.' But no, they want the big story, they want the scoop, you know?"

Wells added: "I probably would have done the same thing."

Having a camera on you when you're a professional athlete is not like being raped, Boomer. It's part of the job. If you can't handle a camera being pointed at you and people asking questions, you should probably just quit, but, then, you wouldn't pull down the enormous paycheck. Think WSKO would be interviewing you if you weren't a pro ballplayer? Think you'd be making that kind of money if the WSKOs of the world weren't interested in you?

It's when the cameras AREN'T following you that you should be worried. And if you think that being followed on the field by a camera is anything akin to a rape, you have a lot to learn.

I'm looking forward to Wells' league-mandated insincere apology to all women.

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