The Seige on Washington

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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "Chris Robinson" journal:

October 16th, 2006
03:57 am [Link]	Magnificent Into the night again. The cold, the wonderful cold, the oldest reminder of man's weakness, has returned and you keep your windows down as you drive. Another smoke filled breath brings back memories of long walks last winter, chasing ghosts you once knew. Cold, alone, and on your own in a paradise of uncertainty. No routine, no safe place, just the next day and the next story. Devoid of expectation and the universal motivator of greatness; fear. Solitude; the perfect definition of freedom. Now you make another broad turn, fingers freezing against the trusted wheel which has always been good to you. Recall the faces, the legends encountered. The smoke melts into the night and the haze of every streetlight suffice for what once was a star-filled sky. Only the river remembers. For the first time in a while, feel the old joy, the break from a complacent hell. It'll be a while in coming, no specifics, and that's just fine. Perfect, the cold keeps you awake. Unfortunately, you'll have to endure this place a little longer. Your life, history, friends and family. Everything that makes people comfortable. Stability? Complacency? That's fine for most. Another cheap cigar, some good music, and a giddy laugh as you force another sloppy turn, the street signs blurring by. Yeah. Don't worry. Relax. This won't hurt. Reality is simply what you make of it. Thoughts drift back to those nights, lost in the concrete necropolis beneath the District. Looking good. Watch the people and dream. Accept nothing and fight for every second. Empty tombs of forgotten heroes, their palaces infested by thieves and serpents. The rotting center of power. New dreams. Across the water. Another land. Another quest on searing sands, the shame of man festers under the eyes of the world. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
August 3rd, 2006
03:30 pm [Link]	Anyone who would give up a little liberty to gain a little security, deserves neither and loses both I miss it. Rotting slowly in sunny Florida... The angry sun gives way to a brief storm of equivalent intensity, and my mind wanders back to the District. I'm done with this place. I'm done with every yokel in a torn Nascar t-shirt, done with the same fucking newscasters and the fake cityview plastered on the greenscreen behind them.. done with the crooked trial lawyers and used car dealers in the same cliched commercials, done with the dirty beaches and shitty smells.. Home is a nice place to visit, but I don't want to live here. I havent been gone a month and the place is falling apart. Cunningham cancer is choking the Hill while Abramoff's ghouls continue to stalk K street. That slimy creep Jefferson is raising hell after the FBI found 100 thousand dollars of dirty money stuffed in his freezer... but in doing so they violated the "sanctity" of his congressional office. The sleaziest burn brightest. Good Scotty McClellan is gone. Porter Goss is out. The CIA is a nest of vipers and the specters of Haditha rise from bloody sands. Everyone's bitching about one thing or another, and the one bright point in recent news, Pat Robertson's Learjet crashing, was shadowed over with the revalation that he was not aboard. Corruption is all about, but it's petty and disorganized. It would be the DC of Nixon, and Hunter Thompson's ghost could be weeping at an empty typewriter somewhere, but for the limp-dicked hopelessness of the current administration. At least Nixon and Reagan knew how to control. For all the uproar about abuses of power, the Neocons aren't doing shit.. just waiting like blind, arthritic sheep to be seized, raped, and impaled in neat rows along the Potomac, if only anyone had the forsight to mount such an expedition. The place is a pasture, an environment that is ripe for regime change to anybody with brains, but that's a tall order in this country. And I'm stuck here. I miss the lonely walks when my only company was my iPod and the universe inside my mind. Once a man has seen the top, can he be happy living in the valleys? In times of quiet reflection I smile as I recall the words of those who have taught me so much, the knowledge I've gained, the myriad views and mannerisms that have converged to mold my personality... my heroes... everyone I've ever known and everything I've learned.. I am left with the final test one must meet if he is to have any hope of becomming something more than just a group patchwork of other people: Complete rejection of himself and the unconditional embrace of the unknown. I want to be back, strolling amid the august colonnades and forgotten statues of dead gods. I want to breathe in the grit and the angst, feel a frozen blast of unforgiving cold and stare in the accusing eyes of the subway bums. I want to size up suited experts and ridicule lawmakers. I want to share in the unhappy company of hostile people, future leaders of America making their first enemies. I want to be where there are no friends, just contacts. I want to overpay for everything and shake my head in disgust at enchanted tourists. I want to get back in the shit. Like the opening scene in Apocalypse Now!, I toss and turn in my grimy cell, itching for the safety of the jungle, to be back in the fight, where the murk and the fog of an unknown future glisten like a most perfectly cut diamond. That's where I belong. I will never feel complete unless I am apart from my family and friends, dependent on strangers, and forced to live for myself. Why worry about your fate and wonder about your destiny when you could just go and meet it all head on? I want to be lonely and scared again. I want to be uncalm and unsure.. living in the moment.. that's what life's about. Fuck security, Fuck order, and Fuck complacency. It's about liberty. It's about being free.. lonely, terrifying, wretched freedom. This pirate has stayed in port long enough. Barnacles grow on the hull and the crew gets fat and restless. It's time to sharpen my sword and draw high the sails. Stock the hold, because this is going to be a long voyage. Flog any man without a sunburn at the end of the day. Shoot mutineers. The sea is calling. Galleons float fat and lazy. It's time to put the terror of the black flag back on the minds of men. Chart a new course. We sail soon. Tags: chris (1 comment \| Leave a comment)
May 4th, 2006
08:11 pm [Link]	This one's for the class That's right, a journal entry dedicated to the intergalactic levels of awesome that has manifested itself in Foreign Policy Section 2, under the benevolent gaze of His Eminence, our Most Holy Master of International Relations, Dr. John Calabrese. This one's for ya'll. Oh it's been an awesome semester. When I weigh it against previous semesters back home, where my body was polluted with typical collegiate vices and my mind stagnated in a cesspool of sun, beautiful women, and careless debauchery, I shudder to think of any other path I could have taken. My crystalized worldview has been carved into a flawless diamond, and I owe it to the people I've met here. Yes, the cold, marble columns of DC have replaced the palm trees of Orlando. No longer do I fear her strange Yankee customs. I've decided to carve out a tender chunk of her nutricious flesh in which to feed and form my squalid nest, whereby my brood can flourish and infect the world. The class was great, and the cast of characters provided a neverending parade of entertainment and joy. My roommate, Stefan, from the furthest northern realms of the dominion, was a joy despite his wacky adventures while intoxicated. Him and I lived in a squalor resembling the barrios of Caracas, but we survived, plague free! We also stood defiantly against the Gestapo, fighting as heroic partisans across the broken halls of Congressional. Jared, the ragin-cajun redhaired rugby playing SuperJew is a joy to be around, and I hope one day to engage him in an epic political debate or hand to hand combat, whichever comes first. Kate has become the brother I never had in girl form. She's been a wicked companion and a willing participant in several epic adventures. I wish her righteousness and unparalleled joy. Rock on Kate. Kick some ass in Boston. You better visit. Nicole has been an unlikely addition to my social sphere, and despite my best efforts at being my vulgar, offensive self, she provides a level-headed response to my crazy ideas. I've valued our talks greatly, and I will forever encourage her to seek her own path, because life is yours and you control your destiny. Matt's been instrumental in helping me waste time. Even though our eyepatch expedition was a failure, I know I can count on him in the future, and we'll be having many more adventures over the summer. Matt's a great guy. If we were trapped in the desert and taken prisoner by canibal Bedouins who forced us fight eachother to the death or be eaten, I'm sure Matt would take a knee and let me kill him. It'd be the manly thing to do. Anthony's a dependable guy, but don't be surprised if he forgets things now and again. Still, I'm positive he's got my back. If I ever start a gang, he's gonna be in my posse. I'll even let him design our gang sweatervests. Big Brian could stomp my face out straight through the other side, so I'm gonna say he's a swell guy. He's also a magnet for Asian women. Go figure. Not So Big Brian is destined for a life on the Hill. He's made more connections and looks more like a future executive than any of us. Watch out, he probably already knows the launch codes for the nukes. Sally is quiet but deadly. She could be a ninja. I've enjoyed our dinners and rousing conversation. Also, you are the only classmate who's mother I have met. That's cool, right? Joelene is one of the friendliest people I've ever met. I'm convinced she runs solely on liquid sunshine. People just get happier when she's around. For this reason I declare her to be a national treasure, and she should be put on display in a public place so generations may gaze in wonder. Gary, who represents the streets of LA, provides a strong psychological balance to the class. Without him, it'd just be a big nuthouse. I wish him the best as he stomps out wimps wherever they may be. Catalina is from Colombia. We learned about Colombia. She provided the much needed Latin Flavor to our scrumptious guacamole of foreigners. You gotta love metaphors. Tristan is from France. Being one of the first Frenchmen I have ever met, he scored major cool points for his countrymen. Nothing made a Q&A session like one of his questions. He's also a cardshark. He is Tristan; He is from France. Brilliant. Tom is from Norway, as is evident in his complexion. Looking at him, you'd think the Vikings were invading again. I don't think Tom would make a good Viking, since he goes to Berkeley, and there'd probably be vehement protests there over the Vikings' stringent military drafting laws. Luckily, Tom is not a Viking, but a good natured guy who I got to know over Indian food in Dupont Circle. I wish him luck as he returns to Berkeley, then to the icy northern fjords of his forefathers. May Odin guide you. Blonde Kate provided a refreshing, balanced wit and enjoyable conversation. I wish her many blessings. Blessings also to Susan, who was singled out early in the semester for asking questions. Just keep asking them, dont let the man get you down. Elizabeth was a great partner and another vocal participant in class discussions. On more than one occaision she shot down my bullshit, and for that I bow as a samurai before a worthy opponent. Pala is from Iceland, and her presence always seemed to signal the start of a party. I wish her the best, and I hope Calabrese behaves if he ever enters her country. Sahadeo has a big heart, and I can't poke fun at that. We sure rocked Kashmir huh? Carry on, soldier. Sheena likewise is caring and pleasant. We needed people like her to offset people like me. May you excell in all you undertake. Peter is destined for a life as a businessman. I don't know how I know that, I just do, and I'm always right, just ask my mom. Good luck with life, buddy. Aby's awesome, that's all there is to it. Our talks have always been short but substantive. May she bring untold pride to Iowa. Enjoy DC this summer. Jesus Christ I feel like I'm signing yearbooks in high school. Bah, it was a good few months, and ya'll have been awesome. As Calabrese, who will be getting a tribute later (after I get my grades securely locked away) would say: Peace and Love friends! We had a good run. We laughed, learned, and helped to restrain Jared together. I'm convinced ya'll are destined for success. Many years from now, when I'm that bum who humps the metro station escalator and soils himself regularly, I can look back and smile at all those cool people I met at the Washington Semester program. Rock on guys. Foreign Policy forever. P.S: Reunion. 10 years from now. 2:00 AM. Lincoln Memorial. Bring whiskey and golf equipment. Who's down? Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
April 20th, 2006
08:30 pm [Link]	Sudan + Ice Cream = Progress We're getting into some heavy stuff with Africa and the Sudan. It got me to thinkin... I have a solution to solve the warring states problem in Africa. Bear with me, Space Cadets, Here's how it goes: Psychological research has proven that there is a direct 2-way correlation between the amount of ice cream in an environment and the level of violence exhibited by its inhabitants. As the ice cream level rises, the violence rate decreases, but as the ice cream level falls, the violence starts up again. I know these things because I'm a psychologist, and everything I'm saying is absolutely true. Anyway, it can be hypothesized that the violence level falls because people become happier when ice cream is in abundance, but when the great ice cream herds migrate to cooler pastures, the locals grab their AK's and go back to their stupid wars over goats or whatever. Now, inspired by the Light of Science, I see ice cream as being an indispensible vehicle for the promulgation of lasting peace, if only there were enough ice cream to go around and it wasn't only a luxury enjoyed by the rich and refrigerated. But how to bring the people together for the enjoyment of ice cream? Ah ha! Such a method exists! It is an ancient American ritual, perfected in church groups, youth clubs, and other organizations everywhere... That's Right: The Ice Cream Social There is no institution on Earth that brings people together like a gold old ice cream social. All are equal as they dig into melting tubs of vanilla and chocolate. You know, the ones where you have to reach in so deep your elbows get sticky, and then apply vast amounts of toppings like the filthy pig you are in order to create a massive, squishy pile of paradise. Instead of food packages, antibiotics, seed, and AIDS medication, we should be financing a massive international ice cream mobilization force that can transports vast quantities of the neccessary provisions and trained "Socialees" to organize the mass socials that shall be held wherever conflict calls. I'd call it "Ice Cream Socials for African Unity and Peace" (ICSAUP) Take Sudan for instance: With ICSAUP, we could bring together the Justice and Equality Movement, the Sudanese Liberation Army, the Umma Party, and the Janjaweed all together in the spirit of the hallowed ice cream social. I can see it now; heavily armed government, rebel, and Arab-militia standing around getting their ice cream and making polite small talk, because that's what you do at a social. Suddenly Ibrahim Khalil of the JEM and Field Marshal Omar al-Bashir each want a cherry for their sundaes... but there is only one cherry left! Angry words are exchanged...Guns are drawn, clips are popped into battered Kalishnakovs... the situation is tense.. Then suddenly, Nelson Mandella emerges with a bucket of cherries! In a soothing voice he says, "No brothers, no! Look! There are cherries for all!" And it's so fucking powerful.. the two leaders shake hands and there is much rejoicing, the crisis is resolved! Now just let your stream of consciousness take you where it will...You hear a distant congo drum being played that gets louder as the scene fades, and you hear guys singing in Swahili as the scene turns to a burning sunset on the Serengeti with the silhouette of a lone Acacia tree against it, the music and singing still going, and maybe a giraffe slowly gallops by for the last effect, and it finally fades to black...slowly. Wow. Wasn't that inspirational? I think Ice Cream Socials for African Unity and Peace would be a big hit.. See how psychology works for everyone? Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
April 16th, 2006
02:48 pm [Link]	The Dawn of Victory! Behold, for I embark alone and unhindered on the Quest of Ages! I have travelled through foreign lands and fought great battles with the Black Hordes of Ignorance so that I may glimpse the heavens and raise my sword to immortality. My quest began with a dream, a Dream of Ages, in which the messenger of the gods did come to my hallowed bedchamber and command a Most Holy Mission. Through this heavenly revalation, I was to travel to the Ivory City of Enlightenment and converse with the sages of the great Temples of knowledge, for they had seen in visions my Greatness, and thus were in need of a blessed champion against the unspeakable darkness that did loom o'er the highest peaks in the distance. I rose with a battle cry that scattered dragons and burst through the gates, mounting my trusted steed and embarking for the Northlands. The frigid wastes were unforgiving, and the path frought with hideous dangers. From every twist in the treacherous road did come evils from the darkest corners of the mind. The undead rode beside me, screaming in the night, while viscious highwaymen waited in ambush. I did battle with their fearsome leader, who knocked me from my mount and set upon me, eager to consume my righteous flesh. All would be lost if not for my trusted Dagger of Logic, with which I slew the savage fiend, tossed his rancid corpse into the bottomless Northernmost Fjord of Despair, and continued on my way, until the ancient monuments of the great city rose from the distant fog. Upon entering through the ancient Gates of Ages, there was no great celebration of my arrival. Within the Great Hall of Immortal Knowledge I learned of the unspeakable Dark Lord of Eternal Ignorance and his mindless followers, bent on the destruction of our great civilization. The Dark Lord had allies in every office of every land, and had made unholy pacts with the barbarian chiefdoms of Greed, Ineptitude, Hubris, and Sloth. These brutes must be swept from the great city and justice restored, and I would be the one to exact divine vengeance! Wasting no time, I set to the streets, hunting the traitorious dogs who would dim the righteous flame of Enlightenment. Verily, I did show no mercy, for my dreadful work was swift and unmerciful. Like cowardly vermin, they barricaded themselves in high fortresses and darkened temples, commanding their unhappy legions to certain destruction by my Holy blade, which I did wield without restraint until their blood drenched the streets and the glorious sun did shine again upon the ancient land. From among its ruins did rise the Great Sainted Ones of the Past who returned the people to celebration and learning. With the Most Holy City cleansed of the plague of wretched buffoonery, I set my sights towards the Dark Lord himself, who sits upon his fetid throne in a barren land of burning sand and bone, commanding all who listen blindly to the despised tyrant and hate freedom. With a great war cry that frightened even the Steelgods of the Last Apocalypse, I departed on foot at a furious pace worthy of legend, striking down all who would dare obstruct my ordained path. The bones of heroes and monsters alike were strewn through the country, the agony of the legendary battles of the ancients. Crossing the Black Mountains of Confusion after an exruciating struggle with the fearsome Ogres of Procrastination, I arrived at the Endless Sea of Sorrows, where my Holy Steel of Ages was put to use against a band of savage corsairs, their wretched ship I did pilot alone for many a week until I begged for death.. but the gods on high did have other thoughts and punished my blasphemy with a harrowing tempest that destroyed my ship and threw my body upon the jagged rocks of the cursed domain of the Evil one. At once I did promise that I would make a sacrifice of 10,000 enemies in thanksgiving to the Great Ones for their mercy. Sword in hand, I set out as the Berserker of Heaven on the twisted road to the Doomed City to make good on my sacred promise. Strengthened by divine favor, I have ravaged the armies thrown against me. Every poisoned arrow has been deflected by the hand of Providence, every rusted spear thrown knocked down by winged Victory. Leading the unseen Legions of Glory, I did verily bring the Justice of Ages and light to a dead land, the Dark Lord's followers now bowed at my feet as I traveled unimpeded to the Inverted Tower of Pain. Upon entering the hideous fortress, the Fates conspired against me and did rally the beaten armies to murderous fervor, the Dark Lord now sensing his impending demise by my radiant greatness and calling desperately for one last futile assault. Led by the spirits of Defeat, Hopelessness, and Exasperation, they have gathered and lay seige to the wretched city, their ranks clawing desperately at the forsaken walls. Barring the gates, I am now faced with the epic challenge of vanquishing the Dark one as his armies are whipped into a murderous frenzy on all sides. My pledge of 10,000 far exceeded, I ask the gods to aid me in the remainder of my great work, as they have done before, and guide my sword in its most-Holy work. May the dark walls hold long enough for me to sever the head of The Hated One who sits in fear upon the highest tower and hold it high so that god and man may all acknowledge my triumph. The challenge is immense, for only he poses the greatest threat to me through his wicked tongue and decietful words. I must keep the Wisdom of Ages at all times and be ready to strike down whatever unknown horrors he commands against this noble warrior in these last hours. This is for the salvation of all the Enlightened Lands! Now I shall climb! Tags: chris (1 comment \| Leave a comment)
April 14th, 2006
03:18 pm [Link]	15th Street and K I'm wearing my orange tie today. It's got hummingbirds on it. It's one of my favorites because its intense tangerine tint is as bright as the sun on Mercury and it naturally catches the eye of anyone with functioning cones in their retinas. What does it mean? Should there be a reason for wearing my bright orange tie? If there is, I haven't found it. I've been at Hudson since 9:30, dilligently editing papers and providing the steam for the great engine of neocon thought. I'm sitting in the cubicle area today. I hate the cubicles. They're not even cubicles in the traditional sense, more like a row of stalls. I've become too used to getting the window office, but now some godless Russky has moved in there with his freaky Cyrillic keyboard and I am forever banished to the Hallway of Sorrows, filed in like honeybee larvae with the other downtrodden plebs. But still I wear my orange tie, and it makes me happy. Hudson's a great place to work, even if we do the unholy bidding of the Empire. Here I am researching the People's Republic of China and its threat to US National Security. The Chinese, as can be seen from the pictures of the below post, are a happy and determined people who advance the triumph of socialism into the next millenium. More calls for the blood of Rumsfeld. The Lord High Generals of the Republic have risen and demanded he be sacraficed to the Rat gods, while Bush painfully squirts out the last drops of hypocratic irony and supports him, but you can't get a comment on anything from the White House without being referred to "an ongoing legal preceding." Bush's comrades are falling faster than the Polish army in 1939, and Scooter Libby continues to file motion after motion as the wolves circle his mangled form. Meanwhile, killer bears roam the Smoky Mountains, the Great Spirit must be angry. Old wounds are torn open as the papers print the anguished voices of September 11th and Moussaoui is doing his best to become a martyr. They ought to just drag him outside, make him bite the curb, and stomp him into legend. This is my country. Savage in its ignorance, unforgiving in its wrath. The world slips a little further and the Sudanese paramilitary ransack a few more villages every day. Borders disputed, bombs set, the North Pole melts and the Yellow River streaks through the Chinese countryside, a hideous black gash of petrochemicals, feces, and broken dreams. Papa Hemmingway and Hunter Thompson are gone. Truth is dead, and here I sit in my intern stall waiting for oblivion. Ghastly reality awaits outside among cherry blossoms and blue skies, beauty stained by transient excrement on the sidewalk and the stench of Nixon in the air. Now I'll make my way home and try not to make eye contact with anyone on the subway. My iPod will provide some kind of soundtrack as I wander to whatever the evening brings. Good thing I've got my orange tie. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
April 10th, 2006
10:25 pm [Link]	Being stalkd by coyotes. think ill make it. xplain later So I'm walking home after a late night at the computer lab, it's about 4:15 in the morning and there is no life to be seen. The walk from the actual university to the Tenley compound where we're kept like intellectual refugees is about 15 minutes down Nebraska Ave. On the right side is the sprawling Homeland Security Headquarters and Naval Complex, and on the left are two embassies: the Swedish and Japanese. I'm a walking corpse at this point, so I don't notice the eerie stillness of the place. What I do see, up ahead, is an unidentified shape moving across the road and into a large field to my left. It's followed by a second figure, and this time I am able to make out the shape. It looks like a dog, but... no.. The two of them stand in the field and stare at me, their eyes flashing reflections in the street light. They stay near eachother, I notice they both have the same shape and coloring.. Then one turns his head upwards and emits a piercing shriek that splits the silent morning air... It literally sounds like a young child being stabbed in the face with a red-hot icepick. Now he's got my attention, but just as quickly the two disappear into the night. They were coyotes Yes, there are coyotes in suburban Washington! Okay, I've chilled with coyotes before, there shouldn't be anything to worry about. This is what I'm thinking as I walk past the Swedish embassy. The bastard is still screaming somewhere in the night. In my typical fashion, I decide to provoke it by making high-pitched whistles every time I hear it. We continue our dialogue for a few minutes but by the time I get to the Jap embassy, I can't hear it anymore. Thinking nothing of it, I continue on my merry way until I get to the Van Ness intersection. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the two coyotes sitting in a grassy area to my left. On the other side of the road, a third emerges from a church lawn. Christ, the damn things went around the embassies.. Either I've communicated in some profound way and they wait for further instruction, or they're here to feast on my bones. Uh oh I pause in shock.. then I step forward. As I close in, they scatter, and I pass between them and continue down the last stretch of sidewalk. Then I hear the scream again, directly behind me.. shiver I look back and all three have decided to escort me home, following at a safe distance, eyes glowing. At this point I break out my phone and instinctively do what I always do when I'm in trouble: contact Jackie. If my body is never found, at least someone will know what happened to me. I left a frantic message that reads as thus: being stalkd by coyotes. think i'll make it. xplain later. I wasn't too scared, since every time I turned around they all scattered, but just the fact that it was 2006 and here I was being followed by coyotes in suburban Washington was a little disconcerting. By the time I had finished the text, I was in sight of Tenley. The coyotes continued to follow, and by this time I had given them names. There was Benjamin, Raphael, and the Unholy Wail of Satan... who seemed to be the leader and the only one vocalizing. Knowing I should document the adventure, I tryed to take pictures with my cell, but the bastards skittered into the shadows every time I stopped walking. Not one car went down that road the whole time. Upon reaching the front door of my dorm, they departed.. but now I must return to them. What if they wanted me to be their leader? Perhaps I could befriend them. I'm sure Jackie would be thrilled to have a pack of coyotes hanging around our place over the summer. We'd feed them carrion and train them to prey upon our enemies! Oh, that would be just grand! Next time I pull an all-nighter, I'm gonna look for them. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
April 6th, 2006
09:22 pm [Link]	Hold high the great red banner of Mao Zedong Thought!! Very cool week. China is a fun little place. When you look past the miserable human rights record, military build up, and disturbing pollution trends.. and disregard its aggressive policies concerning Taiwan.. and..whatever. Who are we kidding? China is just a much bigger, smarter, and more dangerous version of North Korea that pays our national debt and holds us by the balls with cheaply produced trinkets for our beloved Wal-Marts. So I decided to go online to the Chinese embassy website... and I found some propapaganda! Behold the history of modern China, according to the website. Under the influence of the October Revolution in Russia, China's May 4th Movement arose. During this great anti-imperialist, anti-feudal revolutionary movement led by patriotic students, the Chinese proletariat for the first time mounted the political stage. ^{"The Sunlight of Mao Zedong Thought illuminates the road of the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution!"}The "cultural revolution," which lasted for 10 years from May 1966 to October 1976, was initiated and led by Mao Zedong, the then chairman of the CPC Central Committee. Taking advantage of Mao Zedong's mistakes in his later years, the Lin Biao and Jiang Qing counter-revolutionary cliques, unbeknownst to Mao, engaged in activities that brought great calamity to the country and people. In spite of the grievous mistakes Mao Zedong made during the "cultural revolution," his lifetime record shows that his contributions to the Chinese revolution far outweighed his errors. ^{Long live the victory of the proletarian revolutionary line with Chairman Mao as its representative! Long live the victory of Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution!} Drawing on the support of the broad masses of the Chinese people, the CPC smashed the Jiang Qing clique in October 1976. A new era of development unfolded in Chinese history. In July 1977, responding to the fervent demands of all the people, the CPC reinstated Deng Xiao-ping in all the Party and government posts he had been dismissed from during the "cultural revolution." The Third Plenary Session of the CPC 11th Central Committee held at the end of 1978 represented a great turning point of profound significance in the history of New China. Since 1979, China has pursued a policy of reform and opening to the outside world, a policy which was initiated by Deng Xiaoping. The errors of the past have been rectified, and the focus has been shifted to modernization. ^{A project of vital and lasting importance calls for good quality! We are proud to participate in the industrialization of the nation!} Major efforts have been made to readjust the economic structure, and reform the economic and political systems. China is, step by step, establishing a road with Chinese characteristics, a road that will lead to socialist modernization. Great changes have come about in China since 1979. The situation in the country is the best ever, and the people are enjoying more material benefits than ever before. ^{The commune is like a gigantic dragon, production is visibly awe-inspiring! Advance bravely along the road of socialism with Chinese characteristics!} Hu Jintao, since taking office as the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the CPC in 2003, Chairman of the Military Committee of the CPC and the President of the People's Republic of China, is leading the fourth generation of the leading body to carry out Deng Xiaoping's theory, persist in and continue the policies and principles of reform and opening to the outside world advocated by Deng Xiaoping, making the country stable, economy developed and foreign relations promoted and winning the support from the people. ^{Less births, better births, to develop China vigorously! Continue the struggle to realize the basic Create a great new situation} ^{strategy and} ^{the historic duty of the Party!} ^{in socialist modernized construction!} If you're looking for Chinese Propaganda, this website is awesome. As brilliant as it all is, it's scary to think that these people have nukes, a massive population, and a rising place in the world. Let's hope they play nice. Tags: chris (1 comment \| Leave a comment)
April 2nd, 2006
05:06 pm [Link]	Behold... the craftiest of the Plantains... It was a good weekend. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and Jackie and I got to spend some time with our patron from Rollins, Dr. Michael Gunter. Dr. Gunter is the guy who coordinated our stuff and helped us to successfully navigate the treachorous process of dealing with the administration of this school, which, I have come to believe -- and correct me if I'm wrong-- is composed of autistic, hemorrhoid-ridden baboons, fornicating with office machines and hurling their stinking feces at computer screens somewhere in upper stories of the Mary Gradon center. Suffice to say, I am amazed that this place manages to function without sinking down into the Realms of Hades, from which its many mindblowing policies seem to spring. Dr. Gunter's presence was a welcome change and he accompanied us to the Mall to promenade among the cherry blossoms. He's a good guy, teaching political science back home and maintaining a wonderful family, his only flaw being his allegience to Vanderbilt University, but I'm sure that God forgives such misguided transgressions. It was good to talk with a Southerner again and speak of mystical things that baffled our Yankie companions, such as sweet tea and boiled peanuts, delicacies for which I remain trapped in withdrawl. I also recieved a cinematic masterpiece from my dear friend and chief spiritual advisor Andrew Smalls, in which he tells a tale of wonder and beauty about the intricate workings of the magical world in which we live. It will be the most important 2 minutes of your life. View, and taste eternal Enlightenment. Go there now or may your children grow up to be administrators at American. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
March 31st, 2006
04:39 pm [Link]	Spring makes me happy... and a suit makes me feel important So.. 9:25 AM on a beautiful Friday morning, and I'm sipping coffee on the 12th floor balcony of the American Enterprise Institute, looking out over the city of Washington and feeling awesome. I was "invited" to attend part Two of their series, "Dissent and Reform in the Arab World" consisting of two panels of influencial Arab intellectuals who give brief lectures on topics from their respective specialties and then opened the floor up to questions from the audience. A pleasant contintental breakfast was served in which I mingled with people and met several interesting fellows, including an Iraqi Fullbright student and a representative from the Lebanese embassy. I love meeting people in this town. I love having a name tag and an affiliation and becomming someone I'm obviously not. As long as you don't say anything too outlandish and keep the proper think-tank decorum, you can have constructive, engaging conversations with important people who normally wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire. The discussion itself was interesting, although it got a little tense around Q % A time. Around 11:15 I left for my next event, a luncheon at the Rayburn Office building by the Capitol. Feeling great in my suit as I walked through an exquisite spring day, I was in high spirits and decided to make the journey on foot instead of taking the metro. I was feeling grand, smiling at bums and skipping in front of cars as I made my way from the corner of 17th and L to the White House, then along Pennsylvania Ave to the Smithsonian and up through the Mall. I arrived at Rayburn a little sweaty but otherwise fine and went to room 2360 where Heritage was giving a lecture on the ports deal and American protectionism. The "luncheon" turned out to be just pizza and soda... but it was welcomed after my hike, and I happily listened to the smart people speak about things that didn't interest me while enjoying the impressive room and view from the windows. After that, I went looking for my congressman, determined to shake his hand and ask him out for a beer, but I was told he was back home in the district. Oh well. I'll get the bastard soon enough. It's his job to entertain me. Unfazed and still empowered by my suit and the wonderful weather, I made my way to the Library of Congress and took the tour. Fucking Radical! It is amazing! The place is simply a magnificent shrine to Western civilization. It's like a temple to classical thought. I was digging the interior deco and getting ideas for my own place in the future. Just cool stuff with marble and columns and chubby naked people... I need to bring my Ipod next time and listen to Beethoven's 9th in that place. I wandered around for an hour or so before making my way back for good times with friends. Yeah, It was a good day. Spring is nice. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
March 29th, 2006
06:56 pm [Link]	Почему вы выпиваете мой антифриз, камрада? We learned all about Россия (Russia) this week. No! Not the glorious Russia of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics! (Соединение советских социалистических республик) I mean Russia today. Yes, the land of cold, grey depression is still quite a player on the global scene, aside from that unpleasant business 15 years ago when those capitalist pigs (свиньи капиталиста) with their stock markets and rap music finally brought down the Nation of Lenin and all the industries were grabbed by the greedy industrialist robber barrons (разбойника) that made great suffering to add to the shame of the people. Thankfully, Putin (пакостная сука) has regained control of the situation and is now showing the world the power of real democracy! (народовластие) The Russian people are indifferent, which, in Russia, is considered mass euphoria. Finally a strong leader has risen and given the power to the masses! Hail to the народовластие party! If Lenin could see how well народовластие was working in Russia, with its state control of the media, brutal repression in Chechnya, and rampant centralization of power, I'm sure he'd agree that народовластие is the way to go! Russia also loves to play with its former Soviet Union friends, namely through using oil as a political weapon. Bless its heart. Georgia, Ukraine, and Turkmenistan are less than thrilled with this move. Belarus is likewise not a happy place (счастливое место) and quickly moving toward either a regime change or a police state. We talked to some Russian experts (Русские специалисты) and the situation is not too happy. Clearly, US foreign policy has some work to do if we're going to work with them and the Chinese (Китайско). But we did learn some Russian jokes (шутки)! So a nurse is moving a patient's bed. He says "нюна, куда мы идем?" She replies, "к похоронному дому." Clearly disturbed, the patient says, "Но я не мертв пока!" And the nurse casually replies, "Мы не там пока." *ha ha ha будет очень funny* шутка будет оно не? Okay, here's another... What do you call a Russian optimist?............................Someone who says, "наилучшим образом, было в состоянии быть более плох" Man, those Russians fucking slay me! (сразьте меня). Tags:** chris (Leave a comment)
March 22nd, 2006
08:50 pm [Link]	It hurts to see So my little all-night project didn't go exactly as planned. For one, the conjunctivitis that I'd developed earlier in the week which I thought had gone away... proved to be slightly more tenacious than I'd expected, coming back with a vengeance around 5am Monday morning. As my eyes began to burn as if I'd looked upon Satan himself, I realized I wasn't going to finish. The rest of that day was a nightmare of the highest quality as my eyes turned the cutest shade of bloodshot which was just perfect for my lack of sleep. At about this time I took out my contacts and passed out. The next day was spent in painful blindness during which I learned how helpless I really am. The following things take on an entirely new dimension when performed with 20/200 vision: 1) Using a computer. It's real fun when your eyes are 5 inches from the screen and you can't see the keys. 2) Crossing the street. I was forced to rely on echolocation. Almost got hit by a bus. 3) Shaving. That was an adventure. 4) Stairs. Dont like stairs. 5) Getting food. I didn't know what I was eating till it was in my mouth. Yum. 6) Staring at people with bloodshot eyes. You become an instant 3rd class citizen. Easy to scare children. Now.. what good could come out of a swollen right eye and impared vision? Now was the first time in my life I had a legitimate excuse to wear an eye patch. Score. So I went to CVS, only to find that they were sold out of eyepatches. I'm dead serious. Apparently the pirate population in Washington is greater than I'd expected. Anyway, I'm feeling better now and finishing up my paper. The CIA will have to find another way to stop me, since I totally owned pink eye. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
March 19th, 2006
11:13 pm [Link]	What a righteous feeling is unabashed procrastination! It's like tasting the sweetness of life itself! It's 11:15. I officially have 11 hours to churn out 10 pages of gold on US public diplomacy in post-War Iraq. For those of you who don't know what public diplomacy is, allow me to waste more precious time and explain it. Public diplomacy is essentially true propaganda. It's a nation's official image that it projects to the world. US public diplomacy has been royally skull-fucked by the War on Terror, and things aren't looking much better in Iraq. Bush is off on a new PR Crusade about the greatness of democracy in Iraq, but it's too little too late. The US had some meager stuff going on in Pre Desert Storm Iraq, but that ended quite abruptly when Saddam rolled into Kuwait. After kicking his ass, we decided not to occupy the place and instead try to undermine the regime and let it collapse from within, but Saddam was a tough little fucker. We established Radio Free Iraq in 1998 as the first tool in an information war that made great use of the ongoing sanctions and feelings of the Iraqis toward Saddam. Before the invasion, we littered the place with leaflets, warned of air-strikes, and did our best to avoid killing civilians, but it obviously happened and had a profound effect on the populous. The CPA set up shop and established a newspaper and TV station, but they withered when compared to more critical and more entertaining news sources that the Iraqis gobbled up with newly-installed sattelite dishes. Word on the street spread fast, and it was pretty easy to see after the first months of the occupation that the CPA wasn't doing such a good job and people were still getting blown up on all sides. You and I can't comprehend the feeling of turmoil these people lived and continue to live in. Every day you had the ex-Baathists, religious extremists, Arab nationals, disenfranchized civilians, foreign fighters, and US soldiers going at it with a population of 26 million in the middle of it all. Life kind of changes in these circumstances, survival and anger take priority, and its no wonder that "reconstruction" has been a serious bitch. It has 80 radio stations and 21 TV stations, and most all of them are unregulated, and prone to any position that brings ratings. Policy makers also tend to forget the enormous impact that the mosques and religious leaders have on their followers. Much of the Iraqi democratic process that has worked owes it to the religious clergy telling people to vote... and who to vote for. Civic institutions also have a huge effect on the society, but, after 35 years of totalitarian control, there aren't any. No Boy Scouts, Little League, PTA, 4-H, YMCA, Youth Groups, Rotary, ect. You get your info from Al-Jazeera, word on the street, and the opinions of your relatives and religious leaders. That's it. Maybe, if the US knew how to talk, some people might just listen. Time to write Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
March 13th, 2006
06:41 pm [Link]	And once again I chart a new course And so Spring Break has descended over American University, and the first cuddly blanket of sunshine and springtime warmth has spread across DC. Flowers bloom, Once again, I find myself alone on the cusp of mighty adventure. Most everyone is gone, and I, wanting to stay and work on my research paper and look for a job for the summer, have decided to stay and chart a new course through these lonely waters. You may weep for me, but know that a pirate, so long as he has the sea underneath him and the sky above, is never alone. Argh. Today was spent in lazy study, renting out a shitload of books from the library and then lounging on the quad in the sun, my mind dancing amid the daffodils as I try desperately to patch together a believable thesis for this bloody paper to which I have committed myself. I'm supposed to be writing about the role of public diplomacy in the reconstruction of Iraq. I want to know what the CPA is telling Iraqis about what the US is doing, aside from shooting at them and blowing things up. I think it's obvious that if we truly intend to provide a stable situation in Post-war Iraq, we need to open up serious dialogue and get these people to stop shooting and start talking. My experience here has certainly grabbed my once-proud-and-indominable idealistic confidence by its testicles and pulled hard, slamming it headfirst into a great variety of glacial, unfeeling truths, leaving it battered and broken in the dark, piss-stained alleyway between Right and Wrong as I struggle to redefine my position on topics spoon-fed to me by four years of cable news and comfortable intellectuallism. Luckily, my studies of psychology have taught me that there is always some underlying current of truth that transcends cultural bias and geographic segregation, some universal aspect of human cognition free of sociological dogma that rings true in any circumstance regardless of time and place and can be used not to explain, judge, or criticize the situation but maintains a determined presence throughout, providing some unquestioned shred of understanding when looking at the greater picture and trying assemble pieces that don't fit. While I can never know what it feels like to live under brutal authoritarian rule and then see my country invaded by well-meaning but suspicious foreigners whose lives couldn't be more different from my own and be forced to live in an atmosphere marked by periods of intense optimism and frantic jubilation pierced by unimaginable violence and an atmosphere of impending civil war, I can still understand how that golden pillar of higher intelligence, the ability to acquire, process, and transfer information, rises as a key resource, invaluable to civlian, military, and insurgent minds alike. So what the crap are we telling them? What are the insurgents telling them? And, most importantly, what are they telling us? That's the creamy filling at the center of my paper. These are the questions I need to answer in the next week. Tags: chris (1 comment \| Leave a comment)
March 5th, 2006
08:54 pm [Link]	Scramble Oh how the world keeps moving. There's been quite alot happening recently, but I havent had the time or patience to organize it into an entertaining journal entry. We're slogging through Iraq and Iran now. Life's been slightly manic. The weather has been beautiful and Hudson is great. I feel loved and I'm going to be applying at places for a summer job. I havent decided if I want to go home for spring break yet. There's a shitstorm brewing in Congressional and the Gestapo are out in force. More on that as it develops. I spent the weekend among friends and foreigners. It wasn't nearly as wonderful as my party with the Georgians, but it's been okay thus far. This week should be interesting. I have alot going on. I'll try to put it all together and make something beautiful, but until then, we should reflect upon the words of Georkie... "What I like of America is its true. You say true and you do.. like... when you say war... You WAR! This is I like America. America true." -Georkie Georkie's wisdom is transcendant of human perception. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
February 27th, 2006
08:30 pm [Link]	I will always love you, Georkie. So I went to a party on Saturday night with a bunch of people from Georgia (not the state, the brutally-repressive ex-Soviet hell hole on the Black Sea) It was truly an experience for the ages. These were the folks who moved in mass migrations across school for the last 3 weeks leaving misery and despair in their wake, but at a house off campus with lots of drink and good cheer, they were actually quite entertaining and warm. I met a wonderful gentleman named Georkie and he told me this joke: So there is man in village who beats wife... laughter And man one day goes far to away town. Wife now cooks very much good soup... GOOOOOOOOD soup! And all men come from village to struggles with wording ummm Eat! To eat good soup! Yes? And man comes home and beats them all up, yells "Out my house!" Then man goes to wife, gives her big kiss and says "You are good wife!!!" After the punchline had been delivered, Georkie burst into laughter followed by all the other Georgians. It was eerily infectious, and soon I was laughing hysterically. I challenge you to tell that joke to anyone and laugh uncontrollably at the end. I guarantee whoever you told it to will start laughing. It's that brilliant! I learned many other wonderful things from Georkie, including traditional Georgian folk songs and drunken dances. By the end of the night I had many new comrades. We all hugged and laughed and there were some tears too. The next time I get rowdy with a big group of foreigners and sing at the top of my lungs from a backyard in suburban Bethesda at 3 in the morning, I'm doing it for Georkie. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
February 23rd, 2006
09:54 pm [Link]	If Allah doesn't kill you, his boys certainly will This was the al-Askari Shrine in Samarra on Tuesday. Pretty eh? Then something happened... ; Bummer, God isn't going to like this... Destruction! Calamity! Sacrelige! Sometime Wednesday morning, masked gunmen infiltrated the place and bombed the mosque, blowing it away as if it were an innocent Iraqi bystander or US soldier. The outrage has sparked a wave of violence in retribution, the likes of which the world hasn't seen since the cartoon riots last week. They're calling it an Arab 9/11. Let me take this opportunity, though I have absolutely no authority whatsoever, to be the first to issue a fatwa calling for the destruction of all Americans, Christians, Jews, Bhuddists, Hindus, athiests, infidel Muslims, Shinto-priests, Scientologists, Unitarians, non-Wahabbi Muslim pirates, Mormons, communists, hippies, 7th Day Adventists, Goths, Mennonites, apes that use sign language, Voodoo practicioners, eskimoes, animists, pagans, bikers, hedonists, intellectuals, Daoists, Rastafarians, Furries, democrats, and anyone else who apparently offends God and invites his righteous vengeance at the hands of his true followers by engaging in other wicked activities such as dancing, smiling, singing, drinking alchohol, wearing shorts, eating bacon, chasing ass, shaving, tatooing, or educating women. I hope I didn't leave anyone out. God would be pissed. The President of Iran, who is batshit insane, blamed the US and the Jews for the attack. It's so true! We want Iraq to fall into civil war! Americans love a good headache. Just today, I cracked my skull on a brick wall, just to feel the hurt! The Ayatollah and Muktada al-Sadr also blamed the US. Thousands of their followers now brandish assualt weapons and scream for American blood. Dont you just love these people? I sure do. I love them enough to stab them in the face. Oh, and in Nigeria, in response to the killings and church burnings by Muslims over the weekend, now the Christians are doing some killing and mosque burnings of their own! Go team! I love humanity. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
February 22nd, 2006
08:16 pm [Link]	Afghanistan! 4 years without an international military action! It's been a lovely week, aside from the great horror of having to write the first chapter of my Great Work of Greatness. It is so great I dare not share it yet, for we must keep the greatness fresh else it will waste into flacid mediocrity. For this week, the theme has been Afghanistan. We've had a few differing speakers and experts, including a gorgeous woman who held most us with a Y chromosome in silent awe as she said things. There was a collective feeling of defeat when it was determined that she was married, as if any of us had a chance. It's not that much of a shock. People there get married when they're 12, and I'm sure her family collected a hearty dowry for her. I wouldn't be suprised if she fetched at least 5 goats, a crate of assault rifles and a fine carpet. No doubt! Anyway, Afghanistan is dependent on international aid to build it's non-existant infrastructure, pull together its 10 major ethnic groups, disarm its warlords, and turn its economy away from weapons smuggling and narcotics. Piece of cake. Tomorrow I go back to Intern Land. It's been a laid back week. Hopefully the next few days will yeild some significant stories. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
February 17th, 2006
04:12 pm [Link]	I'm a good intern The fun never stops at the Hudson Institute. Except for now. It's late in the day and I have nothing to do. Most of the other interns have left to live their lives and such. Been working in the Media Relations division, sorting through two years worth of newspaper clippings that mention Hudson. The idea is that we pick out juicy articles from prestigious papers such as the *New York Times, Washington Post, or the East Buttcrack Indiana Herald-Tribune* and scan them all into a pretty little book to hand out to benefactors and clients. That way we can say, "Hey, look at our press coverage! We are so golden!" The former Media Director used to do this, but she has since quit and the new girl is desperately trying to wade through her predecessor's mind-blowing filing structure that requires a Rosetta Stone to decifer. Since my contacts were about to fuse to my corneas from staring at a computer screen, I volunteered to help her. Now I'm done and I'm left to my own devices. I'm contemplating going to the Kennedy Center for a free 6-pm show. That could be interesting. I have to start my research paper this weekend, a rough draft of the first chapter is due on Monday. Yeehaw. It's nice being able to sit down at a computer without being surrounded by Slavic peoples of undetermined origin, such as is the case back at the Tenley Computer Lab. They congregate there from 3pm till Midnight, and sit around typing in chatrooms to eachother. The chatter is constant and foreign and not as pleasant as French or even German. I feel like they're plotting against me. Bloody Commies. Anyway, my weekend is probably going to be shitty, but I'm comforted knowing that All My Sons opens today and I wish the cast and crew the best of luck. I hear it's going to be awesome, and I have no doubts. Rock on and make something beautiful. I wish to Christ I could see it. I will sacrifice a pretzel in its honor. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)
February 14th, 2006
09:55 pm [Link]	Saudi Arabia is the best place EVER We saw Arabs today! Our class went to the Saudi Embassy and it was everything I'd hoped. We were greeted by guards armed with jewel-encrusted Saracen swords, who watched us with the hot ebony eyes of a desert falcon, who sits upon a high peak and gazes over the dunes for his prey. However upon knowing us they parted and we passed through massive doors of bronze, the building's interior shining brilliant and radiating the warmth of the Saudi nation from within. We wandered through the alabaster hallways on intricate rugs of wool and camel hair. In the reception room, we lounged on great silken cushions and watched as beautiful women danced and a turbanned man charmed a cobra with a flute in the corner. We were served fine teas and coffee, cheeses and every kind of fruit that ripens under the desert sun. Suddenly the great doors swung open, and a grandly-dressed gentlemen complete with white robes and aviator shades rode in on a flying carpet, and announced that we were not just going to be told about Saudi Arabia, we would fly there in style! Then all the carpets suddenly hovered above the ground and we crawled on and flew across the oceans and desert sands to the golden land of dreams and light! We floated on the magical rugs across the nation, moving through bustling market places, blooming oases, and glittering palaces. We dressed in the finest silks and bartered with local merchants for the goods of the Far East. We cheered at the camel races and watched oil tankers move through the Suez Canal. We fluttered around the minarets of the Haj, waving to the millions of worshipers who watched and cheered and expressed their love of the USA and its wonderful citizens flying over their most holy of places. We met and conversed with sheiks and princes who regaled us with stories of the goodwill and friendship between our countries. Finally, we dined with the Sultan, who loved us Americans so much he gave us all Mercedes and concubines and plots of fine land in the wadis. After much hugging and crying, we were on our way, back to America, waving goodbye to our best friends and closest allies, the Saudis. May they continue to flourish and thrive until the oil runs out. That is exactly what happened. Whosoever says anything different speaks not the truth and may Allah, who is great with mercy, curse him and his family with eternal misfortune and scabies for his wicked lies. Tags: chris (Leave a comment)

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