God Created the Universe in Seven Days. You'd Think Andrew Could Find Time To Write and E-mail

We're all on edge. Obviously. It's been one week since we received any communication from Andrew, and I felt I should come out and tell everyone to take a deep breath and chill. I think we may have been a bit spoiled by the dearth of e-mails we got since his arrival, but with Andrew's unit taking over at Gabe I suspect that his schedule has filled up rather quickly. No worries. I'll try to keep the posts coming, but honestly, when there's little news from him, I'm limited with what I can contribute. Still, I'll try and be a little more gung-ho about entertaining the masses while we wait for word from him.

Aspirations

In order to succeed in life, one must have goals. Of course the right goals are important. For instance, I probably should have a goal to find a job by my birthday in a week and a half (by the way, if anybody out there knows how I could get some quality snuggle time with Kristen Bell, I can't think of a greater birthday gift. Nothing tawdry. Just some friendly afternoon spooning). But lately, my most pressing goal has been to win a prestigous spot on a watch list. NSA, FBI, Pentagon... I'm not really picky. But by God if the Raging Grannies can get attention from our Federal Government, why can't I?

Well, my family took a good first step towards a reservation at the Black Site Hilton with our newest wall decoration. Warrantless wiretaps... I can almost hear the click on the phone lines now.

Another Sad Reality

One of the things I swore to myself when my brother left was I would learn as much as I could about the situation over there. So occasionally, when I get the chance to talk to my brother on IM in between teasing our mother and talking about the Cubs, I find a chance to ask him about what he's seeing. This is an exchange we had today where I asked him, in so many words, who he was fighting:

Phil: Let me ask you something. The guys who plant the IEDs, are they like hardcore guys, or are they more chickenshits who do that because they can't fight any other way?

Andrew: Everyone here is a chickenshit

Phil: Well, that answers that question.

Andrew: there are only small groups, Terrorists, Shia extremeists, Wahabbis, the Badr Corps or the Madhi army that would actually fight us

Phil: Damn. Now I'm gonna have to go look up all of those words.

Andrew: but most of them prefer to do things the easy way and just take cheapshots and run like little bitches. I went to a town called Narwhan. it's a 100% SHIA town and my experiences there were completely different from my previous towns

Phil: How was the Shia town different?

Andrew: They hated us and want us out

Phil: So, you give them the power, and now they want you guys to bail?

Andrew: No we're taking power from them and giving the Sunni's more

Phil: But weren't the Sunnis in power under Saddam?

Andrew: yet the sunnis think the opposite, but they're afraid of Iran coming in when we leave

Phil: So you're actually trying to create a situation of equality, but both sides think you're screwing them.

Andrew: Basically

Phil: So do you trust anyone there? CAN you trust anyone there?

Andrew: No

I don't know if this is what the experts mean when they use the word "quagmire," but we are undoubtedly caught in a centuries old Catch-22. Groups who hate us need us to stay to protect them from even greater dangers. There don't seem to be any allies for the United States, but merely groups protecting their own self-interests by playing both sides. Nobody trusts us, and in turn, we don't trust them. A complete lack of trust -- the perfect foundation for a sparkling democracy.

It Had to Happen

I didn't go to my first Cubs game until I was 22. It was a remarkable experience, if not a typical Cubs experience. Kerry Wood threw seven innings of one-hit baseball before turning the game over to the bullpen who quickly gave up ten runs in one inning to the Pittsburgh Pirates. Yet one image lingers in my brain from that game. Sometime in the middle innings a Pirate (whose name I cannot remember) hit a rope off Kerry Wood that screeched straight towards my seat in the left-centerfield bleachers. It was a 0-0 game at that point, but this rocket was destined for the gap and would mean at least one run for the Pittsburgh.

Then a streak of blue skirted the outfield and swallowed the ball with a miraculous diving catch. That streak was Corey Patterson. Patterson finished that year looking very much like the heir apparent, hitting the snot out of the ball while becoming a fixture on Web Gems. The next year followed with an unfortunate knee injury. Then last year he returned with substandard numbers that eventually won him a trip to Triple-A.

Well, now that player who I will always identify with my first Cubs game is no longer a North Sider as this afternoon the Cubs deal Patterson to Baltimore. It makes me sad, but like Sosa a year ago, it had to be done. Since Corey will be in the American League (and for the time being will not return to torment us as so many ex-Cubs do), I wish him the best of luck and I look forward to seeing him on Web Gems this spring.

God Bless Pat Robertson!

I get so few good belly laughs these days. But running across a certain article on MSNBC this morning... I haven't laughed that hard since... well, since the premiere of Scrubs on Tuesday. Pat Robertson has put his foot in his mouth so many times over the last five years he should just slap a Nike Swoosh on his lips and try to get an endorsement deal. First, 9/11 was the fault of the gays, and abortionists, and feminists, and all those other Ists that get right wingers chastity belts in a bunch (to be fair he tag-teamed with ray of sunshine Jerry Falwell on that one). Then, he recommended we assasinate a head of state. Next, he predicted fire and brimstone for Dover, Pennsylvania for ousting every school board member who voted Intelligent Design into the public school system. And then comes this gem regarding Ariel Sharon's recent health problems.

Not only is the statement itself priceless, but kudos to MSNBC.com for picking a winning screen grab from the 700 Club to properly contextualize more Robertson lunacy.

You Can't Write This Stuff

One thing is readily clear here in the states: we just have no clue what's going on in Iraq. I've encountered a lot of weird anecdotes from soldiers and reporters since the war began. Occasionally one will hit home. My brother talking about the blase reaction from Iraqis when U.S. soldiers cross through their backyards or raid their houses was one case. This story from Richard Engel's Baghdad Blog was another.

We have no idea...

"I'm Just Calling To..."

Probably the biggest nuisance that has arisen during my brother's absence has been the new power granted telemarketers. Every time the phone rings, we're hoping it's Andrew. Whenever it's not, we're disappointed. Still, we can stand the let down if it's family or friends. However when it's some jackass from Legend Windows (who?) well, you'll have to forgive my intolerance. Wasn't there a law passed, not too long ago, that telemarketers can only call people with whom they've done previous business. Who the hell is Legend Windows? Making this even more intolerable is the international phone delay. Before Iraq, I used to hang up at the first moment of silence before a telemarketer clicked in. Now, if I do that I could be hanging up on my brother, and that would probably get me a shiv to the ribs from Mom (she's ruthless, you see). I don't know if the number of telemarketers has gone up, or if we're just hyper-aware of the phone calls, but it seems like they're getting out of hand again. Again, where is that legislation?

Although there are those moments when the sun shines in, where I get the opportunity to turn the tables on the telemarketers for a brief moment.

"Is there an Andrew Rockwell there?"

"No, he's not here right now."

"Could you tell me when he'll be back?"

"Well, he's in Iraq right now, and we haven't heard from him in two weeks, but I'm sure when he has a moment between mortars and hostile fire he'll be thrilled to learn Visa has preapproved him yet again."

Click.

And then I do the Snoopy Dance.

10 Things I Learned From Today's IM Conversation With My Andrew

1. My brother recently shaved his head and was told that he and I look exactly alike...

2. Ergo, there must be some special kind of herb growing in the desert that we don't know about.

3. CNN sometimes has the best intel, but they can still see a helicopter shot down when there isn't one. Did you catch that whoops yesterday, Joel?

4. The unit Andrew and Co are releaving just left. So as of tomorrow (God help us) he's in charge.

5. Haji already calls him Rock everywhere he goes.

6. Cousin Brian gets the honor of "Best Package" so far, and we're going to assume that my brother meant the one sent through the mail. (Was that too blue for a family site?)

7. Haji smokes hurt the throat.

8. The Chicago Cubs have lead the majors in strike-outs for the past five years. And we got only one post season appearance to speak of. (On a similar note, quote of the night from Scrubs last night: "How depressing is it being you? Would you equate it to being a lifelong Cubs fan or being born with no lips?")

9. 95% of IEDs (Improvised Explosive Devices) won't penetrate American armor, but they will give you a headache.

10. Pictures over e-mail. A no-no.

Also, my brother and I have worked out a way for him to post pictures on this site. So, look for some of those in coming days (although, as he said "Days seem to turn into weeks here for some reason").

King Kong Review

Roger Ebert, on his syndicated television program, called King Kong this year's greatest entertainment. It's so not. I've sat on the fence about this film since I saw it several weeks ago, but now I'm taking a stand. This is not a good film. Peter Jackson, much like George Lucas before him, has so many visual toys at his disposal that he feels he must use every one. The original King Kong was 80 minutes long; Jackson's version is 187 minutes of bloated unnecessary action set pieces amongst a handful of truly touching scenes between Naomi Watts and the remarkable Kong. Those were the longest three hours I've spent in a theater since Titanic (and this coming from a guy who did the Lord of the Rings marathon).

Special FX are great, but for every film that uses them correctly, there are many others that fall in love with their digital creations to such a degree that they come to rule over the more interesting parts of cinema like ... say... character. And story. Special FX mean nothing if they're not in the service of a story. Titanic remains a turd that won't sink fast enough. Shock and Awe couldn't save Star Wars from becoming a shame for kids raised on its original fantasy. And King Kong suffers the same fate as so many other FX spectacles before it.

The fact that these enormous action scenes take place between scenes of beautifully transcendent filmmaking only makes their superfluousness more glaring. Naomi Watts is amazing in this film; her eyes seem to be the only thing giving this film any depth. Every scene she shares with Kong are captivating, both for the technical achievement of Kong and the Watts's performance. But these scenes are too few and too often spoiled by giant bugs or stampeding brontosauri or Jack Black.

Peter Jackson pummels us with action. Pummels. So much so that when the climactic ascension of the Empire State Building arrived, I was so burnt out on the previous 160 minutes of noise that I just wanted it all to end. I didn't weep for Kong when he fell, as apparently many critics did. I took a deep breath and dragged my ass to the parking lot.

This is a flawed film. Deeply flawed. Which is a shame, because like I said, Naomi Watts is amazing and deserves some accolades for her work here. But I can't recommend this film. If you want the year's greatest entertainment, I have two words for you: Batman Begins.

Yes, We're Still Here

Slow week. Slow slow week. I know through the grapevine (i.e. Mom) that some people are curious as to the lack of posts lately. Well, we're still up and running, but everybody else seems to be on vacation. The holidays are over and I already covered them. The Prior-Tejada trade seems dead (please let it be dead). Washington's on holiday break, so the politicians aren't there to bungle things further. Aside from Bowl Games (Officiating crew to Iowa: "MWA HA HA!")and my TV shows coming back (Scrubs tonight!) there's just not much going on. But you can be sure that when news breaks or e-mail boxes ding, I'll be here to let you fine people know.

P.S. I know I've been depressed lately, but seriously, have we had cloudy skies in the Quad Cities for like two weeks straight? I can't remember the last time I saw the sun.