With those famous words at the 1988 Republican National Convention, soon-to-be President George H.W. Bush promised there would be no new taxes. He kept his word. That is, we did not get taxes on taking showers, eating ice cream or going to baseball games. But he never promised he would not raise the existing taxes.

Now, the Demagogue-in-Office has resorted to the same trick. He ran for office, promising to get our troops out of Iraq by the end of 2010, and he has pretty much kept his word. He did not promise to get them out of Afghanistan. Last night, in a nationally televised speech, he boasted he kept his campaign promise. Since Obama does not take print journalism seriously, he solemnly said he is announcing that it is “official” – we are evacuating (combat) troops from Iraq. Since he also said that to the print media at least one week ago, apparently he didn’t regard that announcement as “official” as last night’s.

In any case, as a result of a large transfer of personnel from Iraq to the opium mountains of Afghanistan, we now have about 100,000 troops stationed in that godforsaken part of the world. US General David Petraeus, the commander of US and NATO forces in Afghanistan, said Tuesday that deployments would reach full strength of 150,000 within days.

The good news, if you are a fan of the Taliban, is that, In all, 1,270 American troops have lost their lives since the conflict began with the US-led invasion of Afghanistan, following the 9-11 attacks on New York and Washington in 2001.
Since as sports writers like to say, records are meant to be broken, 2010 is the worst year of all although it is not yet over. 322 deaths so far, and counting. Since this war – what the U.S. has dubbed OPERATION ENDURING FREEDOM is a joint effort, we should take notice of the sufferings of our “allies.” 788 “coalition military forces” have bitten the bullet since 2001. That’s almost 80 per year. In other words, if the “Coalition forces” could have been given a choice between being sent to Detroit and any of the other murder capitals in the U.S. or going to that safe haven in Rocky Mountain, Afghanistan, the selection would have been a no-brainer.

Although not well known, The Epoch Times is about as good as any serious newspaper in the world. It has both print and web editions and it is published in New York City. It was launched in 2003 and it is particularly strong on news from China but publishes in 17 languages in 23 countries. It carries all the usual mainstream news but also much that is overlooked even by The Times of London and the NY Times. Of course, nothing is quite the equal of the Times of London for extensive coverage of everything you ever wanted to know and quite a bit on things you hoped never to learn about. For those who need these things, the Epoch Times has extensive sports, fashion, travel, health, and business sections. I read its China reports daily and its world news once weekly. I don’t often look at the political opinion pages but I know it has a distinct anti-Communist China leaning. It has a much friendlier “readers’ turn” than has the almost impossible NY Times. If you have ever tried publishing a letter or guest opinion essay in that newspaper you know what I mean.

I don’t know the cost of the print edition but I suppose it is amounts to a healthy chunk of change about on a par with the NY Times but less expensive than such papers as the The Times of London or any other of those overseas publications. You can always (ugh) “download” it every day via http://www.theepochtimes.com or get one of those newsreaders that allows you to scan all the headlines and choose what interests you. That is much better because it won’t cost you one red cent. Personally, I download about 30 newspapers and magazines including such heftily priced items as The NY Review of Books. You click on a headline and the full article springs up. Nothing can beat that service. Again, it is all free.

1. Toledo, Ohio is America’s Glass City and it has a Glass Pavilion in its Museum of Art. Unfortunately, it has a smudge on its image: the pavilion glass was imported from China. Up to 1990, the U.S. outproduced the oriental wonders, manufacturing about 4 million metric tons of glass per year to China’s 3 million tons. By 2005, China’s production climbed to 20 million metric tons while the U.S. production continued to hover at 4 million. Now, China has topped 25 million metric tons and the U.S. has fallen to 3 million tons. Ah, so.

2. A Lake Erie roadside attraction features fiberglass dinosaurs in its so-called Prehistoric Forest. No one goes there any more and the owners are looking to sell its sluggish dinosaurs. Why, indeed, would anybody look at stationary chunks of fiberglass when he can go see full-blooded dinosaurs in 3-D wooshing around in films such as Avatar?

3. Readers know how I love those in the medical industry (a.k.a. medical “profession”) I once wrote of a gentleman I met at a party who, seeing me struggle to get a bottle cap off, offered to help. “Why would you have better luck than I’m having?” I dull-wittedly asked. Astonished, he replied, “Why, I thought you know. I’m a doctor.” To rub it in, he quickly removed the doggone thing. Recently, another health care provider told me I should take a “baby” aspirin each day as protection for my heart. I said I preferred to take two of them but he said it was extravagant. I replied that I spend more money each week on movies and ice cream than I spend on aspirin in a year. His response was a quick-witted, “Oh.” How I love these guys.

4. Roger Clemens faces a possible 30-year sentence for once having told congressman that he doesn’t use performance-enhancing drugs. Those wonderful congressmen – how I love those guys. May they each have their baby aspirins taken away from them.

5. A distinguished Harvard economist wrote a guest editorial in the Wall Street Journal this week, pointing out that unemployment insurance is killing the poor. And he proved his point without once resorting to a differential equation. How I love these guys.

6. Since about 2003, about 125 Japanese teenagers have been killed while receiving judo instruction. In at least one case, a judo expert, in his frustration with a slow learner, choked the lad to death. There has not been a single inquiry into the any of the 125 deaths. You gotta love Japanese delicacy.

7. A gunman entered an Arizona home and killed 6 people but spared a 13-month old infant. Whoever said there is no honor among bloodthirsty lunatics?

8. In Chechnya, Russia, 17 people bit the bullet and died as law enforcement officers shot it out with 12 militants. My dictionary defines “militant” as forceful, fierce, combative, extreme. Okay, that’s pretty good as a description of the cops. And, now, what about the guys they gunned down?

Thee are many good ways to know a neighborhood. My personal favorite is to read as much as I can about its history and geography but close behind is to walk its streets. The sights and sounds of a large neighborhood are variegated and, without a guide, taking it all in is a daunting task.

Brooklyn, New York is one of the most historically significant cities in America and hundreds of books have been written about it. Among the best pictorial guides to Brooklyn is Brooklyn Public Monuments which is subtitled Sculpture for Civic Memory and Urban Pride. Our guide is a Walker of the Streets who personally photographed several dozen statues and monuments that are precious records and celebrations of Brooklyn history.

You cannot really walk the streets of Brooklyn and duplicate the author’s feat. With its 96 square miles of streets laid out in a nondescript, hodgepodge sort of way, you will get lost in only five hours or so and not have seen 1/4th of what is worth seeing. His labor of love spares us the effort. Here is an excerpt from its preface:

“Brooklyn, New York has 43 major public monuments. Acquired over a period of 125 years, they are one of America’s finest collections of urban public monuments, and one of Brooklyn’s irreplaceable assets…….The Brooklyn public moument collection is unique in that six of the monuments were commissioned by the City of Brooklyn – the most monuments with sculptures commissioned by any 19th century city government in the United States…….The monuments, celebrating Brooklyn’s local history and its place in national and world history, are an enduring expression of the art-loving culture that flourished in Brooklyn in the lated 19th century and on into the 20th century…….May this guide be a witness for Brooklyn’s public monuments and a plea for their continued appreciation and preservation.”
—-Elmer Sprague
Memorial Day, 2007

All the photographs are accompanied by fine explanations of the sculpture details and rich history that make it possible to learn about Brooklyn without cracking open another book. There is also a useful bibliography and a modest index. The book can be purchased through Amazon.com or directly from its publisher: Dog Ear PUblishing, 4010 W. 86th Street,Suite H, Indianapolis, IN 46268. Website: www.dogearpublishing.net

[SG: No solicitations were passed between the author and this blogster and the author's first awareness of this post is your first awareness of it.]

when you’re young a pair of female high-heeled shoes just sitting alone in the closet can fire your bones; when you’re old it’s just a pair of shoes without anybody in them and just as well. – Charles Bukowski

Some folks will tell you the blues is a woman, some type of supernatural creature. My mother would tell you, if she could,
About her life with my father, a strange and sometimes cruel gentleman. – Cornelius Eady

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!–and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? – Allen Ginsberg

My uncle, the general, never came out of the closet because he could not find his beach ball. – Charles Simic

I hang the window inside out like a shirt drying in a breeze and the arms that are missing come to me. Yes, it’s a song, one I don’t quite comprehend although I do understand the laundry. – Luisa Villani

I want to know what makes a defender of Israel against Palestinians a person on the “right”? Is he also against affirmative action? Is he a member of the NRA? Does he support the “pro-life” point of view? Does he want to lower taxes on the super-rich? Is he strongly in favor of capital punishment? Is he a vegan and supporter of animal rights? Does he despise the “new curriculum” and want to throw out “The history of Africa” and return to the traditional western civilization courses? Does he want longer skirts for women? Do XXX movies make him sick? Does he suppose concern about global warming is just so much hooey?

Have John Boehner, Dick Armey, David Vitter, Sam Brownback, and Jim DeMint saturated themselves in the writings of Edmund Burke, Michael Oakeshott, Roger Scruton, and Russell Kirk? Is that why they are “conservatives”?

Just asking, you know.

A Michigan judge today ruled that two former waitresses who filed a weight discrimination case against the Hooters restaurant chain could proceed with their cases.

Cassandra Marie Smith, one of the plaintiffs, alleges in her complaint that she began working at a Hooters in 2008. At the time, she weighed 145 pounds. In a performance evaluation this earlier year, she claims in her complaint, a restaurant manager advised her “to join a gym in order to lose weight and improve her looks so that she would fit better into the extra small-sized uniform.” She alleged she was put on a 30-day “weight probation” and resigned.

The official uniform for Hooters waitresses, she claims, comes in 3 sizes: extra extra small, extra small, or small. Attorney Richard Bernstein, counsel to Smith, called the suit a “benchmark case” that will establish the proposition that physical appearance should not be a component of an employee keeping his or her job, according to the Grand Rapids Press. [I believe that the use of "benchmark" in this case should not be understood as a double entendre.]

To understand the case in all its FULL complexities, please CLICK HERE.

It is often but wrongly said that philosophy is the love of wisdom. To be sure, “philosophy” is the English conjunction of the Greek words that mean “love of” and “wisdom,” but to understand philosophy etymologically is surely a non-starter. Certainly, academic philosophers have no monopoly on the pursuit of wisdom, which, in any case, is a difficult and very contestable idea.

In all fields of knowledge, people are reflective, and so they are not satisfied merely to accumulate information. We may say, I think, that anybody who exercises his curiosity about the nature of things and the place of man in the greater scheme of life is philosophical. Plato said philosophy begins in wonder and that among the most important philosophical questions is wonder about the nature of philosophy itself. So it is no surprise that academic philosophers have put the subject “What is philosophy?” high on their list of topics to be examined.

Over a period of 2500 years, inevitably philosophy developed many specialties and this has been to the chagrin of the plain man, the man in the street, or what the English jurisprudential philosopher/lawyer, Lord Devlin, called “the man on the Clapham bus.” That means philosophy, as practiced by the academician, has become a very technical business, generally impenetrable to that man on the bus. In consequence, the man on the street goes back and forth between admiring the virtuosity of the technical philosopher and deriding him as a pompous ass who refuses to speak plainly. Sadly or not sadly, technical philosophy has an obscure language that is not a mask for exclusivity but is something that needs to be mastered by those who want to explore it.****

Even so, it is just wrong for academic philosophers to regard technical philosophy as the only kind of philosophy and to be contemptuous of the concerns of plain folk and to dismiss the search for old-fashioned wisdom with, “None of my concern.” Some philosophers say of people like Eric Hoffer, “Oh, he is just a sage, not a philosopher,” as if that is a bad thing to be. I do not know anything at all about Hoffer but I cannot see how that redounds to my credit as a so-called professional philosopher.

It may be useful, as a start on the quest for wisdom, to think about the idea of angst. The ordinary translation of it into “anxiety” is very wide of the mark. People who worry about where their next meal is coming from are not suffering from angst. Angst is really about a feeling of meaninglessness. People who are secular thinkers, just as much as those who are steeped in religion, want some sort of salvation. They may feel they are drowning in a world that is just a machine and they ask themselves what it’s all about. They wonder, “Why bother with anything if there is no life after death?” If they can get beyond repeating this refrain endlessly and undertake critical thinking, then they have made serious progress on the way to being a philosopher. I do not mean to imply that ultimate success is figuring out whether life is purposeful if death ends all. Perhaps nobody has figured that out but I assure you there has been good, solid thinking that advances beyond, “Oh, what’s the use? Everything is a mystery and one person’s amateur tackling of the topic is as good as any person’s painstaking reflections.” This is to throw in the towel at the ringing of the bell signifying the start of round one. And it is the height of vanity to suppose nobody knows anything.

In any case, for those who wish to think of themselves as philosophers, their salvation comes in the form of immersing themselves in study. That is the beginning of the way out of angst. No one needs a plush office at Harvard to do that. [Although I admit it sure makes it easier if somebody says, "Here is $140,000 for the year. Now go and think.] The advantage of being an academic philosopher is not that you make a small fortune but you get to pass on what you have managed to learn to young people and, if you are very lucky, you have also developed the skills necessary to teach them to think and how to think. [Those are different.] One who is an academic philosopher is a very lucky man or woman, indeed. Few professions are more gratifying when practiced well. For those who have only drifted into that world because they were looking for a job, angst is their inevitable doom. For those who not members of the “Professional Society,” I cannot think of any good reason why a certain portion of their time should not be spent on philosophy. Granted that the demands of making a living “in the real world” are very hard, indeed, but few of us live such sisyphean lives of intense labor that the only spare time we have must be spent bowling or watching TV to the exclusion of all else. Now, then, I have dispensed with as much wisdom as I have.

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**** As a very simple example of technical lingo, consider that logicians need to talk of existential and universal quantifiers. This talk is also useful for abbreviating what would otherwise involve long-winded explanations. Here is an example:

Consider the difference between “There is some number X that is such that it is larger that any other number whatsoever,” and “For any number whatsoever, there is some number X such that X is larger than it.” Only a moment’s pause assures you that the first is false and the second is true. The problem in case 1 is that the existential quantifier preceded the universal quantifier. Or consider that the sentence “There is some person X who, for any other person you can think of, X is in love with,” which almost surely is false. But “For any person you can think of, there is someone who loves that person.” We may fervently hope the latter is true. A person who says the first will be criticized succinctly by having it pointed out to him that his error was in putting the existential quantifier ahead of the universal one.

I rather suppose that every day has historic events associated with it. I just happened to look up a few that took place today on August 28. Among the most significant was the abduction of Emmet Til in 1955 for his whistling at a white woman. Til was brutally beaten, shot, and dumped in Mississippi’s Tallahatchie River. It took only an hour for the all-white jury to acquit the murderers. One juror said that they took a soda-pop break during the deliberations to stretch them out and “make it look good.” With double-jeopardy protecting them from being retried, the two murderers later boasted about the murder in a Look magazine interview. For decades, the family of Til sought justice but today the case is closed for good because of a statute of limitations. It is one of the sorriest episodes in the American history of civil rights violations.

In 1963, Martin Luther King gave his justly celebrated “I have a dream” speech in Washington, D.C. Among the two hundred thousand in attendance was a handful of NYU graduate students in philosophy. I am still proud of the fact that I was among them. King was a man for the ages ad those who still try to demean him are a sorry, shameful lot.

10,000 anti-Vietnam demonstrators gathered at the Democratic National Convention of 1968 and were met head on by 23,000 policemen and members of the National Guard. The beatings visited upon the demonstrators had many causes, of course, but among Mayor Richard Daly’s excuses were that the protesters had not been granted permits to demonstrate and the crowd was on the verge of assassinating many important politicians, including Daly himself. Inside the Convention Hall, Abraham Ribicoff said, while giving his nominating speech for George McGovern, “with George McGovern we wouldn’t have Gestapo tactics on the streets of Chicago.” It is alleged that out of earshot of TV cameras, Daly replied, “Fuck you, you Jew son of a bitch! You lousy motherfucker! Go home!” Such are anecdotes and you may give it whatever weight you want.

I think it was either Ralph Waldo Emerson or H.H. Price who once announced that a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds. I cannot believe the author intended to denounce consistency as a foolish thing. My guess is that he meant an obsessive worry about avoiding inconsistencies to the point of a slavish devotion to “getting it right” is a good way to block imaginative thinking. Or something of that sort.

When it comes to one’s own writings, I believe Emerson or Price was quite right; however, there is nothing wrong with being bothered when one notices inconsistencies in the writings of others. We call that careful reading.

Right now, I am reading Primo Levi’s Survival in Auschwitz, the book that put Levi deservedly on the literary map. But first, I read his Moments of Reprieve, A Memoir of Auschwitz, a short book he wrote years later. However, my obsession with consistency caused me a problem almost immediately.

In the preface to the latter, Levi writes, “It has been observed by psychologists that the survivors of traumatic events are divided into two well-defined groups: those who repress their past en bloc and those whose memory of the offense persists as though carved in stone……Now, not by choice but my nature, I belong to the second group….I have not forgotten a single thing. Without any deliberate effort, memory continues to restore to me faces, words, sensations, as if at that time my mind had gone through a period of exalted receptivity, during which not a detail was lost.” He goes on to elaborate on this gift for several more sentences.

However, in his 4th reminiscence, only 28 pages later, in a story titled “A Disciple,”, Levi writes, “I learned many interesting things about Bandi. I wouldn’t be able to repeat them all today; every memory fades.”

Now this bothers me perhaps more than it should. Still, what explains this lapse? I have been thinking about it on and off for almost two days. I am very sorry this error occurred but it won’t destroy my conviction that Levi was wrongly deprived of a Nobel Prize for literature.