Right Wing Nut House

Ed Morrissey of Captains Quarters will interview Senator John McCain today at 1:00 PM central on his show CQ Radio which can be heard on the Blog Talk Radio network.

This is a great coup for Ed and a big boost for everyone at Blog Talk Radio. If you’d like to call in and talk to the Senator, the number is (646) 652-4889.

You can access the live show beginning at 1:00 PM central by visiting the show’s website.

UPDATE

Ed has asked me to join him following the interview to give the perspective of a war critic. It should be interesting.

It’s Fathers Day again. Another timely reminder that you’ve been in the ground 25 years and I’m still here. Not only that, I get to sit and listen to everyone talking about their fathers - what they’re going to be doing with them, what present they got them. Not that I’m resentful, mind you. It’s just sometimes very hard to take when I see the rest of the world getting to enjoy the company of their fathers and here I am stuck with this imaginary conversation. I guess in 53 years if you haven’t learned that life isn’t fair (something you said many times) then you are destined to be unhappy and discontented. So I suppose I’ll have to make do with this little literary phantasm.

Would that it weren’t so.

So anyway…here I am. What do you think? Yeah, put on a few pounds. Come to think of it, I’m starting to look a lot like you when you were this age. I suppose that’s the destiny of all sons. I see fathers and their older sons together today and the resemblance is there for sure. Is it nature’s way of reminding us where we came from? If you could see your seven sons lined up in a row, most of us would remind you of yourself in some way. I hope that would give you some satisfaction.

As for the rest… Well? I’m waiting. Cat got your tongue? Okay, let me start.

I’ll admit I’ve been a bit of a disappointment. Whatever it is you wanted for me in life (outside of the ubiquitous “be happy”) never quite materialized. I had my chances. But things got kind of…complicated along the way. Moreso than the others, the skein of my life has run pretty much against the grain. Wherever success or happiness lurked, I always seemed to find a way to pass them by. A career lost, a bad marriage, and the “Irish sickness” - 25 years can pass pretty quickly when there are large parts you don’t remember.

But things are better now as you can see. Amazing what a good woman can do for you, eh? And you should know. You had the best. We like to deny it but women are right when they say we’re all like little boys. There’s a part of us that wants to be cared for, that needs the nurturing love that only a woman can give. Oh, we make a big deal of resisting it - especially these days when we worry such thoughts are considered “incorrect.” But then you reach a certain age and you just don’t give a damn what others say. You know what you can give her and what she can give you and you base your relationship on the beauty of the symbiotic nature of love; a mystical beholdeness to each other that goes beyond the physical and enters the realm of the poets - a spiritual linking of minds and hearts that is truly the only valuable you own.

You know all of this, of course. I’m not telling you anything you didn’t experience yourself. But you were lucky enough to find it early in your life. I guess better late than never for me.

I wonder what you would think of my new career - if you can call writing a career. You always thought that writing was a calling, almost like the priesthood. It’s as fulfilling as anything I’ve ever done and too much fun to be called work. Sometimes, I get a chuckle imagining you reading some of the stuff I write. As an FDR liberal, I can just see your head shaking at some of my more conservative diatribes. No matter. You would have critiqued my stuff not for the political content but rather the stylistic aspects of a particular piece and cogency of my arguments. I bet you would have kept me on my toes.

But of course, despite your classically liberal politics, I have you to thank for my conservative ideological bent. All those children and I was the only one who ended up on the right side of the fence. And you had me pegged as a righty almost before I myself realized it when you suggested I read Russell Kirk’s The Conservative Mind shortly after I graduated from college. You knew exactly what would happen, didn’t you? Kirk’s references to Edmund Burke and other classical thinkers sent me off on an intellectual quest to find myself. I discovered that I agreed with the ideas espoused by conservative giants like Hayek, Eliot, Strauss, and Kristol. But you knew that. And you also knew that the love of learning and books that you instilled in all of us would carry me to my own “undiscovered country” of new ideas and different politics.

I bet that gave you a secret thrill, though. The idea that one of your brood would break with your politics validated your ideas on how to raise children; give them the freedom to discover the world on their own, guiding them where necessary but never dictating what they should think. Your library had books from every conceivable ideological point of view. From Karl Marx to Nietzsche, to Bishop Sheen. Each of us arrived at our politics in our own way, taking our own journeys of self exploration. And we were never lacking for encouragement or advice from you.

It’s amazing how much I think of you even though you’ve been gone these many years. I have Sir George Solti conducting the Chicago Symphony in Mahler’s 1st on one of my Rhapsody playlists and every time it comes on, it brings back a flood of memories of attending the Symphony with you and mother - after spending the afternoon in South Bend watching a Notre Dame football game. I can smell the leaves burning, the memory of those fall days are so powerful.

There are other reminders too - much too private and personal to put in this article. But ultimately, it comes down to this; you’ve never left me. If there is one thing I could say to comfort you wherever you are it is that despite the fact you have been gone almost half my life, your presence still fills my mind. The memories are important. But beyond memory, beyond the fading images on crumpled photographs, beyond the bleary, misty visage I see when I close my eyes, there is you. In my heart and soul. Until I draw my last breath on this earth.

And that, my dear daddy, is a comfort to me.

Mike from The Lamplighter sent me this email. I hope you can help him out:

I hate to ask, but I need some help getting some word out (I am still to small here) - costs nothing and it helps our troops.

Thanks
Mike

Give Mike a hand and send him the names of brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, or friends in the military. You know they’ll be happy to get these packages.

A little slice of home is always welcome, I’m sure.

I know what you’re going to say: “C’mon, Moran. Paris Hilton? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

No. I mean it. Even though she has a Nordic ski jump for a nose. Despite the fact she is witless, talentless, shameless, and outrageously puerile. And notwithstanding her most redeeming quality is a limitless, ravenous, hunger for having her picture taken.

I like her. I like anorexic blonds who constantly look as if they are coming off a 3 day rave and in desperate need of some more XTC. I like the fact she feels duty bound to share every inch of her rather ordinary body with billions of people on a daily basis. Here’s Paris getting out of the car flashing a smile. There’s Paris getting out of a car flashing cleavage with just a hint of a nipple carefully placed in view. And is that Paris getting out of a car flashing something perhaps a little more personal, more private (for most of us)?

She reminds me of the most popular girl in high school - one of the cool kids. Always dressed in the latest fashions. Make-up, hair, lipstick always model perfect. Except, she’s not in high school anymore. She’s a 26 year old woman, born into a kind of wealth none of us can fathom. Pampered, spoiled, doted upon - given everything, not having to work for anything.

And suddenly, adulthood and there is nothing you can do to kill the boredom except party hearty and screw like a rabbit. Hey! Why not make a career out of that? Not partying and screwing but making a reality panorama out of my whole boring, repetitive life. Create a multi-media conglomerate out of my partying and screwing and the press won’t be able to get enough of it. Buy some nice looking friends. Hit the trendiest spots in town. And make sure to act outrageously in order to have some copy to go with the titillating pictures. Why the press will be forced to cover it. America will demand it.

And cover it they have. To the nth degree, they have covered the partying, the drunkenness, the drugs, the succession of boyfriends, girlfriends, and probably assorted animals, various mechanical devices, and party dolls. (Note: Paris herself turned down the honor of having her stick-like form transmuted into a sex doll. It is said that the idea “freaked her out.”)

And now that reality panorama has gotten very real indeed. Life isn’t one big party. Actions have consequences. “Painted wings and giant rings make way for other toys” means that even Jackie Paper has to grow up and face the music. And a 26 year old fully grown woman cries for her mother as they drag her ass back to jail where it should have never left in the first place.

Yes I like Paris Hilton - as I like watching NASCAR at Talladega, waiting for the inevitable crash along the back straight coming out of the high speed turn. Someone’s overheated tires just can’t get a good enough grip and down into the slot his careening car goes wreaking havoc and mayhem. Only a miracle (and spectacularly good drivers) keeps catastrophe at bay.

Paris is not a good driver. She was dumb enough to drive drunk and then crazy enough to drive on a suspended license, getting stopped twice. Did she not know that her very celebrity made her an easy target for the cops? Or was this tempting of fate part of the show. After all, a little legal trouble is always good for a headline or two.

Except the judge in this case took a rather dim view of being included in the Hilton Saga and clapped the woman in irons, sending her off to jail. Now she cries for her mother and is scared witless of mixing with people she wouldn’t dream of taking a second look at in public.

This ultimately is what really scares her. What if I’m just as ordinary, untalented, and, God forbid, boring as all the rest of the common people of the earth? What will I do with myself if I discover that there is absolutely nothing “special” about me, that everything I am, or known as, is manufactured out of whole cloth - as unreal and ephemeral as the ghostly shadow of my image that flickers so often across the media landscape of America, giving notoriety but little else?

She is perfectly safe in jail. There is no chance that any harm will come to her. She will be kept in a special cell reserved for celebrities. Yes jail is a very, very bad place to be. But the law has had its way with her and for good or ill, it is time for her to pay the piper for her transgressions.

Jules Crittendon thinks we should feel sorry for her:

I feel bad for her. How can you look at anyone piteously sobbing on her way to jail and not feel bad for her, when her crime is not sticking a knife in someone, raping someone’s grandmother, holding anyone up at gunpoint or stealing their life’s savings, but essentially failing to figure out that the rules apply to her. Sort of like how I feel bad for the trainwrecks that are Britney and Lindsay, who are more specifically victims of adults who felt they had to share their little darling’s talent with the world, maybe wanted to live vicariously through their little darling’s accomplishments and make a pile off their darling little asses.

Anyway, drunk driving kills, she did the crime, she has to do the time. Life just got a whole lot simpler than Paris Hilton probably ever expected.

Of course we feel bad for her. Or do we, Ed?

Pardon me for injecting a little conservative thought into all of this, but I have very little sympathy for Ms. Hilton. She has had all of the advantages possible in society, and has shown herself contemptuous to any sense of responsibility. The screaming and crying jag in court only came after she had thrown away her chances to get lenient treatment by lying and evading responsibility for her actions.

[...]

Paris Hilton is no child. She’s twenty-six years old. She has all the money she needs to hire the best lawyers to represent her. For that matter, she had all the money she needed to hire a driver after her license got suspended. Not too many of us have those kinds of resources, but she does, and she decided to flout the law and her probation anyway.

I lean more toward the Ed Morrissey school of thought on the issue. But we can still feel compassion for the poor woman whose emotional growth has obviously been stunted, appearing to have the maturity of a 16 year old little girl.

Can we also hope that 23 days in jail will help this individual grow up and get a life? A real life with a sense of responsibility to herself and the rest of us? That is probably too much to ask. But if the old saw “That which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” has any meaning at all, I would suggest that Paris Hilton write that adage in big, black letters and place it on the wall over her prison bunk.

UPDATE

Allah captures the gravity of the situation perfectly:

Are constant medical attention and round-the-clock police protection enough to preserve this delicate flower? Or will the thought of being away from the media for 20+ days cause her to wilt? All men have their breaking point, my friends. An anxious world waits and wonders.

You’d never know it but we’re in the middle of another Iranian hostage crisis.

You may have heard about the 3 Iranian Americans kidnapped by the gangsters currently in charge in Tehran. Then again, you may not have heard about it. Our media apparently now views hostage taking by the Persians so routine that it’s not even worth reporting on. After all, be they innocent American academics, British or American soldiers, or American diplomats, it simply doesn’t matter. The lawless crumbums who weep about American interference in their affairs who then turn around and violate international law with impunity know that they will escape serious consequences for their outrageous behavior thanks to concern over the safety of our citizens at the hands of the uncivilized fanatics who hold them:

Rarely have so many journalists, politicians and commentators so totally missed a headline. There are now five American hostages in Iran. Each case has been largely treated by itself, almost as if it were an oddity, something requiring a special explanation, instead of another piece in a luminously clear pattern whose meaning should be intuitively obvious to us all.

The Americans were taken hostage for the same reasons the regime has routinely taken foreign hostages from the first year of its existence: to resolve internal power struggles, to demonstrate to the Iranian people the hopelessness of their condition by directly challenging the infidels to do anything about the humiliation of their countrymen, and to impose their will on a Western world the mullahs view as feckless and paralyzed. When the American embassy was overrun in the fall of 1979, Khomeini famously proclaimed that the Americans “can’t do a thing,” and today the regime is trying to show that neither the Americans nor the Brits (five more of whom were taken hostage in the past couple of days) can do anything to challenge the mullahcracy.

There are five Americans being held in Iran against their will:

* Haleh Esfandiari, the director of the Middle East program at the Woodrow Wilson Center in Washington and the wife of the distinguished historian Shaul Bakash;

* Parnaz Azima, a journalist for radio Farda, the Farsi-language component of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty;

* Ali Shakeri, a founding board member at the University of California, Irvine’s Center for Citizen Peacebuilding;

* Kian Tajbakhsh, a consultant working for George Soros’ Open Society Institute.

* Robert A. Levinson, a former FBI officer reportedly investigating tobacco smuggling on behalf of a private client. He disappeared after he flew to Iran’s Kish Island in March.

It’s a shame that Sean Penn and his entourage couldn’t have dropped in on his buds in the Iranian government recently. He very well may have been able to experience first hand why Persian hospitality has become so justly famous.

One of the American hostages - Haleh Esfandiari - was also charged with the unforgivable crime of marrying a Jew. It speaks volumes about a nation’s rulers that they criminalize love based on someone’s heritage or religion. But don’t mention this to our domestic Iranian apologists. Their heads might explode. To them, this sort of thing - like “wiping Israel off the map” - is for domestic political consumption only and doesn’t really reflect the peace loving, freedom worshiping nature of the dirty necked galoots who are grinding the Iranian people under their jackboots as I write this.

Esfandiari and two others will also apparently go on trial for espionage. This is a curious charge to make against Americans who are in Iran trying to undermine the hard line policies of their government. But then, it’s not about espionage or America at all. The hostage taking serves other purposes.

The fact that this rogue regime now sees hostage taking as a way for one faction or another to gain an advantage in its own internal power struggles means that these kinds of outrages will continue for the foreseeable future:

The Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, suffers from inoperable cancer and has already outlived his doctors’ prognosis. The political war over his successor has been raging for several months between partisans of the country’s two most prominent political figures: Ahmadinejad and former president Hashemi Rafsanjani. Two months ago Rafsanjani went to Qom, the city of the grand ayatollahs, in an attempt to gain the support of the leading clerics, at which time he tried to convince them to name a successor even before the Supreme Leader’s demise. Nothing came of it, nor did anything come of the much-ballyhooed efforts to “impeach” Ahmadinejad or shorten his term. The latest dustup came over the talks with the Americans in Baghdad, which were violently condemned by Ahmadinejad’s followers.

The wave of hostage-taking undoubtedly plays a role in this political war, for it demonstrates the great strength of the hardliners around Ahmadinejad and Khamenei, and weakens Rafsanjani’s standing with the clerical elite.

It would be tempting to root for Rafsanjani in this internal dust-up except for the fact that he’s no better than the crazies who are currently in power. Besides, it was he who made the first big investments in the Iranian nuclear program back in the early 90’s when he served as President. To believe that much would change with Rafsanjani in power is a chimerical hope. He’s just as anti-American as Ahmadinejad. He hates the west with equal passion as the so-called “hardliners” and is just as determined to see the destruction of Israel. The only difference is his rhetoric would lull the west to sleep. No mystical speeches before the UN for Rafsanjani. Known as one of the richest men in the world, his corrupt leadership is what eventually brought Ahmadinejad to power with a mandate to clean up the cesspool that is the Iranian bureaucracy.

But none of this matters to the five Americans currently in custody. At least Bush came out today and did his part; demanding their release “unconditionally:”

President Bush lashed out at Iran today for detaining American citizens and called for them to be freed “immediately and unconditionally.”

In a White House statement, Bush said the four detainees whose families have spoken out publicly had dedicated their lives to building bridges between Americans and Iranians, a goal that Tehran also claimed to share.

“Their presence in Iran — to visit their parents or to conduct humanitarian work — poses no threat,” the Bush statement said. “Indeed, their activities are typical of the abiding ties that Iranian-Americans have with their land of origin.”

Bush cited scholar Haleh Esfandiari of the Smithsonian’s Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, social scientist Kian Tajbakhsh, Radio Farda correspondent Parnaz Azima, and California businessman Ali Shakeri.

Bush also said he was “disturbed” by Tehran’s refusal to provide information on former FBI agent Robert Levinson, who disappeared after flying to Iran’s Kish Island on March 8. Tehran has failed to provide information or to respond to five messages channeled through the Swiss Embassy to the Iranian government about Levinson.

And, in what can only be considered typical State Department “closing the barn door after the horse has run away,” our brilliant Foggy Bottom bureaucrats issued a travel warning to Iran:

The State Department yesterday issued a formal travel warning to all U.S. citizens to consider the risks of travel to Iran. It cautioned dual Iranian-American citizens that they may face difficulties leaving Iran, noting the detention and imprisonment of dual nationals in recent weeks.

“Some elements of the Iranian regime and the population remain hostile to the United States. As a result, American citizens may be subject to harassment or arrest while traveling or residing in Iran,” the warning said. The government may even deny dual nationals access to the U.S. Interests Section in Tehran operated by the Swiss Embassy on ground that they are considered to be solely Iranian citizens, it said.

Duh.

The rest of the world remains sanguine about Iranian hostage taking. After all, most of them are safe from the wrath of the Persian thugs who take advantage of the fact that no one wants to do anything about their lawless behavior. They will continue to act with impunity, secure in the knowledge that any military move against them taken by the United States will bring the condemnation of the world down on top of our heads.

And that kind of irony is either too amusing for words or too painful to contemplate. You decide.

My latest article for Pajamas Media is up. It’s about Ernie Banks, former Chicago Cubs Hall of Fame baseball player who is going to be honored by having a statue erected at Wrigley Field.

A sample appears below the picture.

Ernie Banks - “Mr. Cub” - doing what he loved so much.

It was the hands that drew your immediate attention. The huge 42 ounce bat being held perpendicular to the ground was motionless as was the rest of his lithe 6′ 1″, 180 lb frame. But the hands were busy. The way they nervously gripped and re-gripped the bat was mesmerizing, the fingers in constant motion. And then the pitch, and the graceful ripple of a swing, and the ball would take flight.

And then, the trot around the bases, the long legs effortlessly stretching out, covering the distance to home plate with such ease and grace that tens of thousands of kids all over Chicagoland tried to imitate it. In suburban parks and city streets, youngsters could be seen gripping the bat the way he did, moving like he did. They wanted a baseball glove just like his. To possess his baseball card was to make the lucky kid a celebrity for blocks around.

Exclusive to rightwingnuthouse.com! Must credit rightwingnuthouse.com!

If you thought it was bad enough that the Federal government uses the terrorist spying program to listen in on your Auntie Midge talking to her neighbor about the upcoming church social, think again. Rightwingnuthouse.com has learned that the United States Federal government will now use its massive intelligence capabilities to spy on global warming.

This will be the first effort to spy on climate and it is not sitting well with several members of Congress.

“First, we spy on global warming and the next thing you know, we’re at war,” said James Inhofe (R-Not OK With Me). “I have no doubt Democrats will fix the intelligence, twisting it in order to manipulate the American people into fighting global warming.”

Some pundits have their briefs in a twist over the revelations.

“My briefs are in a twist,” said Glenn Greenwald, whose listed occupation is “tail end of the horsey costume at Mardi Gras” as well as a sockpuppet and part time pundit for Salon.com. “Is there no end to this Administration’s attack on the Constitution?”

Speaking from his palatial house on an ant farm outside of Rio de Janeiro, Greenwald made it plain that civil liberties absolutists would not go along with another warrantless surveillance program.

“What has global warming ever done to us,” asked Greenwald. “We have global warming in a box and as long as we keep an eye on it, there’s no chance it will ever be a threat.”

Greenwald, famous author of a book on civil liberties (excerpts of which were read on the floor of the Senate as well as several prominent mens rooms in Omaha) pointed out that there is nothing in the NSA charter that gives it the right to spy on any climate - much less global warming.

“We need an amendment to the FISA statute that would prevent this abuse of power,” he said. “I propose we amend the law to include a ‘climate court” that would force these Rethuglinazikluxers to obey the Constitution.”

Representative John Conyers (D-Impeach Bush NOW) agreed saying he would introduce legislation to create the CISA early next week.

James Wolcott, food tester for George Soros and sometime columnist issued a thundering denunciation of the program on his blog:

So the government now thinks it has the perfectly legitimate right to spy on global warming. Is there no limit to this Administration’s evil? Even climate can’t change without Bush and his minions seeing a threat. Of course, he’s only doing it to satisfy his rich meteorologist friends.

Meanwhile, the CIA has issued no official statement on the matter. But one analyst who spoke on the condition his name not be used due to to the extreme sensitivity of the subject (not to mention he could end up in the slammer for 10 years for leaking to the press) was dubious of any concrete benefit of spying on climate change.

“I doubt whether we’ll find anything useful,” he said. “Global warming has proven to be very elusive, evading all attempts to find it. We think it may be in the hills above Karachi but no one really knows.”

The agent bristled when it was suggested that spying on global warming would take intelligence resources away from fighting the War That Democrats Haven’t Gotten Around To Renaming Yet.

“I categorically reject that notion,” he said.” Yeah, we might be thinned out in some places [as a result of the global warming spying program]. And sure, we might lose a little coverage here and there. But I’d place the increased threat of a terrorist attack at no more than 10 percent - 15 tops.”

“I can live with that,” he added.

I will be appearing on the highly rated and well respected “Sound Off Connecticut” radio show hosted by Jim Vicevich on CBS Radio’s Affiliate WTIC News/Talk 1080 in Hartford, Connecticut.

I’m scheduled to be on around 9:30 AM Central time (10:30 AM Eastern) for about 10 minutes to discuss Iraq. It should be a lively conversation.

If you wish to access the live stream, go here.

UPDATE

A podcast of the segment I was on is up. You can listen to it here.

Jim’s a great host - made me feel right at home. Somewhat surprised that he agrees with a lot of what I had to say. Equally surprised he reads my blog.

If my visitor numbers keep dropping, I’ll probably be on a first name basis with all my readers eventually…

It finally happened as I knew it always would happen; as cat people all over the world know someday it will happen to them and as even non-cat people suspect it happens despite them being dog people and extremely jealous and hateful of any outward manifestation of feline superiority.

I talked to my cats last night. And they talked back.

What’s that? The answer is no more than usual but I wouldn’t have wanted to take a breathalizer. And because I know you’re curious, Ebony, the liberal’s liberal, sipped several bottles of my best Fritz Haag Estate Riesling and nibbled on Edam cheese all night while wise old conservative Aramas went through my entire stock of Courvosier (VSOP) and the little angel Snowball was knocking back chocolate/Rasberry milkshakes as fast as I could make them - that is, until Ebony, tiring of the youngster’s interruptions and attention getting antics, strongly cuffed the little girl across the ear, sending her rolling like a ten pin out into the kitchen.

Cats make great parents. The little one was barely heard from again for the rest of the night.

Now I know what you’re saying. Even if cats could talk, they wouldn’t be political animals. And before last night, I probably would have agreed with you. But the way Ebony explained it, everything makes perfect sense.

Cats are not so mysterious or otherworldly as much as they exist in a world of emotional and psychic intensity that is so foreign, so unfamiliar to us humans that it seems to put the beasts on a separate plane of existence.

They are, in effect, the barbarians of the animal world. They are the Visigoths sacking Rome, ravaging without pity or remorse. Now what do you suppose the politics of the Visigoths were all about? Or the Huns, or Vandals, or any number of other pagan hordes who swept across Europe, bringing about 1000 years of darkness, disease, and death not to mention unpronounceable names and really bad teeth?

Pretty basic at that. Cat’s are not sophisticated creatures but they are direct and will tell you exactly what they think about any issue under the sun. For instance, my old girl Ebony (who swears she wouldn’t have voted for Clinton if she had the opportunity but thinks that Noam Chomsky is the cat’s meow), is blaming Bush for the massacre at Virginia Tech.

“It’s Bush’s fault,” she said, her tail whipping furiously back and forth showing her displeasure. “The nutcase who did this was obviously inspired by the violence going on in Iraq.”

“Put a sssssssssssock in it,” hissed Aramas. “Can’t you see that it was the guy’s parents who are at fault here?” The old kitty’s face assumed a “wisdom of the ages” look - the kind of look that cats get when they watch PBS - “As usual, you are delusional when it comes to Bush. You even blamed him for the Imus flap.”

“Imus is a penis! Imus is a penis!” screeched the baby Snowball, rolling around at my feet begging for another milkshake. The two adults exchanged knowing looks with Aramas taking the responsibility. He sauntered over and buried his teeth in Snowball’s shoulder causing the youngster to yowl in pain and make a beeline for the cat condo where she climbed to the topmost perch and looked out in fright over the carpeted cat rest. Ebony cast a baleful glance in her direction telling the baby with her eyes that no more interruptions would be welcome.

And so it went, far into the night. The more wine she drank, the louder Ebony got, sometimes breaking into hysterical laughter when talking about how stupid Bush had acted in some crisis or another. She mewled uncontrollably when talking about the war and became absolutely incoherent when trying to convince us that 9/11 was an inside job.

For Aramas, the more brandy he drank, the more sense he made. Or maybe it was because I was drinking as much as he was. He stopped trying to rebut Ebony’s charges and would simply whack her across the nose when she said something really stupid. This would send the two of them tumbling into a heap of a catfight, neither one doing much damage due to their diminished capacity. And just as suddenly as they began, they would stop, taking turns licking each other and quietly nursing their drinks. Until Ebony would blurt out something ridiculous and the fur would fly again.

Sometime toward morning, I tried to change the subject to cat behavior but both of them looked at me as if I was some kind of dog. I distinctly got the impression that both of them felt it was none of my business why they would spend hours just looking at me and what they were thinking (although Ebony continually licked her lips, salivating at the thought of something when I asked what was on her mind when she was staring at me with an intensity that would put 150 watt bulb to shame).

I finally fell asleep sometime around dawn. When I awoke, I was confused. Had I dreamt the entire episode? Can cats really talk?

I’ll have to ask them when they wake up…

I’ve had a wicked cough all week and took the weekend off trying to shake it. Today has been a little better but still not feeling up to snuff.

I may have something up later this afternoon. If not, I will definitely have my 24 recap up tomorrow.

UPDATE: 4/9

My 24 recap will be a little late. Should be up around 10:30 AM Central.

UPDATE II: 11:00 AM CENTRAL

Sorry to report that it will be at least another hour for the recap. My brain is fogged up with some great cough medicine and I find myself spacing from time to time.