Get Me to a Big Tree

Buy me a flute

And a gun that shoots

Tailgates and substitutes

Strap yourself

To a tree with roots

You ain't goin' nowhere

I don't know how invested you have been in the ruminations over the nomination of Mukasey to replace Gonzales as national Attorney General, i.e. in many senses the Numero Uno in terms of law enforcement in the land.

I consider it a very big deal, given all that we have seen both in the short and long in terms of conspicuously aggressive attacks by this administration on the US Constitution, routine attempts to undermine the basic principles on which our nation was founded, and defiance of the fundamental principle that all must adhere to the law. This Mukasey, given his absurd and totally shameful testimony before Congress, should have been laughed out of the committee. He's not worth spitting on, considering his words. Yet he was passed on to the floor, thanks to two folks with that "D" on their name-tags. I'm extremely disappointed. There are many folks in congress right now who are not republicans but definitely deserve to be retired from their political (often lobbyist-pandering, corporation-funded, payoff-taking) role.

It's pretty sad when you have to try to find solace in an after-the-fact too-late stairwell comment from one who ought to have found a way to knee-cap the lousy traitors Feinstein and Shumer weeks ago. These are pathetic, stupid, entrenched beltway folks who have forgotten that we, not they - despite the payoffs from their corporate sponsors, obvious conflicts-of-interest, and cozy arrangements - are the fundament of the country.

Via Dan Froomkin, whose column I remind you deserves your attention Monday through Friday:

So it's come to this: A promise to enforce the law (in most cases) is enough to get an attorney general nominee confirmed by a Democratic-controlled Senate.

Dan Eggen and Paul Kane write in The Washington Post: "The Senate Judiciary Committee narrowly approved the nomination of Michael B. Mukasey as attorney general yesterday, moving him a step closer to virtually assured confirmation on the Senate floor as the new head of the troubled Justice Department.

"Sens. Dianne Feinstein (Calif.) and Charles E. Schumer (N.Y.), joined nine Republicans in voting for Mukasey, arguing that the former federal judge was the best candidate they could expect as the Bush administration's replacement for Alberto R. Gonzales, who resigned as attorney general in September under a cloud of scandal. . . .

Despite Mukasey's repeated refusal to declare waterboarding illegal, "Schumer and Feinstein said they took solace in Mukasey's assurances that he would enforce any future waterboarding ban passed by Congress. That argument prompted a robust retort from Sen. Edward M. Kennedy (D-Mass.)."

From the full text of Kennedy's remarks: "In perhaps the most stunning and hollow promise reportedly made by a nominee for Attorney General in my 45 years in the Senate, we are told that Judge Mukasey agreed to enforce a ban against waterboarding if Congress specifically passes one. We are supposed to find comfort in the representations by a nominee to be the highest law enforcement officer in the country that he will in fact enforce the laws that we pass in the future? Can our standards really have sunk so low? Enforcing the law is the job of the Attorney General. It's a prerequisite -- not a virtue that enhances a nominee's qualifications."

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Now I'm out in the backyard leaning on a tree

And I have no way of knowing

Can't lean too hard, that's my philosophy

Man that tree is growing

Maybe I'll never grow up to be straight and tall

But you can lean on me, baby, I won't fall

Maybe in the deal I can learn to bend

Learn to listen like that tree, baby, like a good friend

Finding That Sweetspot at the Snowline

We had the exceptionally good fortune to be treated by parents to a weekend at a mountain resort near Mt. Rainier recently. It was a little late in the season for savoring the out-of-doors sans skis or snowshoes, but we were absolutely blessed in terms of weather. This is a great spot, just down the road from the turnoff to Crystal Mountain at the NE entrance to the park. We had a comfy condo-like unit with fireplace and reasonable arrangements for food preparation - semi-essential since the options for dining out are pretty limited and not handy. For us, perfect.

We actually did not fully exploit the features of the place, alas, in particular heated pool and hot tub. Reading in front of the fire and savoring more than our normal recent pre-wedding allotments of proper sleep were more urgent! I did make a point of introducing myself to the apparent matriarch of the three dogs responsible for monitoring things. Otherwise we were pretty reclusive.

I was disappointed that the closest mountain access, at Sunrise, was closed for the season. We went through some good-news/bad-news gyrations over status of other roads. Paradise, on the far side, was open, road to Ohanepecosh open so major detour to East not needed, but Stevens Canyon closed for the season, dictating less-onerous sidetrip to Packwood.

In the end, what I'd hoped would be a half-day project getting close to Tahoma became a full-day project. But we found several batches of lemonaid, including the terrifically untrafficked blue highway from Packwood to SW park access - so obscure that we overshot it the first time by five miles or more. On return we had a great moment of transcendence when we matched speeds with a GBH foraging along the adjacent wetland.

The tourist level at Paradise caught us off guard. Parking was at a premium - upper lot and Inn area off-limits. We cadged a parking place and did a modest walk in running shoes, headed for Inn but ending up in the semi-wildness above, gingerly working with up to a foot of snow, occasionally packed and treacherous, and entertainingly whacky turistas. The latter included snow-shoers clomping along on bare pavement, skiers struggling to find routes with continuous snow-cover, multiple sobbing pre-school-age children suffering from as best I could tell the sheer strangeness of the experience (I was comfortable in shirt), and plastic-bag sliders shrieking in foreign languages.

We also made a side-trip on return to Inn to the Grove of the Patriarchs, a cluster of especially-impressive old-growth trees. We've been semi-inadvertently collecting these contacts with old, large, vegetables over the last few years. E.g., Vancouver Island, Olympic Peninsula, and Northern Cal. I'm convinced that rubbing up against living specimens older than the oldest human is a worthwhile endeavor.

And, after early checkout Sunday we did a little snowline-probing close to the resort, driving most of the way to Corral Pass before timidly parking when snow depth on road became a concern. We walked a bit of road and then hiked the easy Rainier Vista trail to predictably delectable jaw-dropping views. Once again this was in short-shirtsleeve conditions (for me, at least), somewhat incredible at an elevation of probably at least 5,000 feet in late October. We sometimes have remarkably good weather in late September and early October, but in this year of relatively disappointing summer weather and blah September, this was a great bonus.

Many thanks, Ma and Pa for the weekend! Oh, and Eric also, for the dog-tending!

The Maestro of Moping, President of Petulance, and Bishop of Bullying

I'm very sorry I missed this offering from Keith Olbermann, apparently aired last night. His passion is obvious even from a mere reading, but I would have enjoyed the full effect. Why is it still a one-man aria on the box? This ought to involve a full-throated chorus! I grant it is not necessarily profound news to sentient, critically-thinking, inquisitive creatures garnering information from sources beyond the corporate media. Hell, even I have made the point before that much of the outrageousness we have experienced in the past six years anyway may well have been the result of desperate Nixon-like crime-hiding furtiveness. But our man Keith just has a way with those words.

The whole thing is excellent, going on a full-on tear just as I love him too rarely doing. I am sharing just the first portion, but this is not even necessarily the best of it - do not miss the rest.

The Presidency Is Now a Criminal Conspiracy

It is a fact startling in its cynical simplicity and it requires cynical and simple words to be properly expressed: The presidency of George W. Bush has now devolved into a criminal conspiracy to cover the ass of George W. Bush.

All the petulancy, all the childish threats, all the blank-stare stupidity; all the invocations of World War III, all the sophistic questions about which terrorist attacks we wanted him not to stop, all the phony secrets; all the claims of executive privilege, all the stumbling tap-dancing of his nominees, all the verbal flatulence of his apologists…

All of it is now, after one revelation last week, transparently clear for what it is: the pathetic and desperate manipulation of the government, the refocusing of our entire nation, toward keeping this mock president and this unstable vice president and this departed wildly self-overrating attorney general, and the others, from potential prosecution for having approved or ordered the illegal torture of prisoners being held in the name of this country.

“Waterboarding is torture,” Daniel Levin was to write. Daniel Levin was no theorist and no protester. He was no troublemaking politician. He was no table-pounding commentator. Daniel Levin was an astonishingly patriotic American and a brave man.

Brave not just with words or with stances, even in a dark time when that kind of bravery can usually be scared or bought off.

Charged, as you heard in the story from ABC News last Friday, with assessing the relative legality of the various nightmares in the Pandora’s box that is the Orwell-worthy euphemism “Enhanced Interrogation,” Mr. Levin decided that the simplest, and the most honest, way to evaluate them … was to have them enacted upon himself.

Daniel Levin took himself to a military base and let himself be waterboarded.

Mr. Bush, ever done anything that personally courageous?

Perhaps when you’ve gone to Walter Reed and teared up over the maimed servicemen? And then gone back to the White House and determined that there would be more maimed servicemen?

Has it been that kind of personal courage, Mr. Bush, when you’ve spoken of American victims and the triumph of freedom and the sacrifice of your own popularity for the sake of our safety? And then permitted others to fire or discredit or destroy anybody who disagreed with you, whether they were your own generals, or Max Cleland, or Joe Wilson and Valerie Plame, or Daniel Levin?

Daniel Levin should have a statue in his honor in Washington right now.

Instead, he was forced out as acting assistant attorney general nearly three years ago because he had the guts to do what George Bush couldn’t do in a million years: actually put himself at risk for the sake of his country, for the sake of what is right.

And they waterboarded him. And he wrote that even though he knew those doing it meant him no harm, and he knew they would rescue him at the instant of the slightest distress, and he knew he would not die - still, with all that reassurance, he could not stop the terror screaming from inside of him, could not quell the horror, could not convince that which is at the core of each of us, the entity who exists behind all the embellishments we strap to ourselves, like purpose and name and family and love, he could not convince his being that he wasn’t drowning.

Waterboarding, he said, is torture. Legally, it is torture! Practically, it is torture! Ethically, it is torture! And he wrote it down.

Wrote it down somewhere, where it could be contrasted with the words of this country’s 43rd president: “The United States of America … does not torture.”

Made you into a liar, Mr. Bush.

Made you into, if anybody had the guts to pursue it, a criminal, Mr. Bush.

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Giving Taste-Buds Their Due

No politics this time. Merely food, glorious food.

I ran across a recipe for “Crispy Potato Pancakes” in the magazine Fine Cooking (at least I think that is the name) and gave it a test this weekend. These are smoothed potatoes, not hash-browns, and while I plunged in without consulting my audience, I was alert to potential unhappiness. I believe I have noted my breakfast-fetish with the potato in at least one prior post.

But even my first fumbling attempt seemed to go down well. In brief, you grate potatoes (food-processor), add salt, and let sit to give off water, in the meantime mixing an egg, a little flour, baking soda, chopped onion, and S&P to taste. (As it happened, I mixed russet, small red, and Ozette potatoes - an unusual combination.) The hand-squeezed taters are then added, and the whole mess bladed to a relatively smooth mix. The results are then spooned into medium hot oil (1/8”) in a skillet, patted thin, cooked until brown (and crispy!), turned and ditto. More in the latke family vs. hashbrowns, I would say.

Pretty straightforward and readily adaptable to alternative formulations with added components including spices/herbs (heat!). I’d like to try retaining a little more texture (e.g. easy on blending stage, or hold back some of potatoes and onions or something), but am happy at not having to cook potatoes twice, my practice in the past.

We were hostess to Mom’s Night Out here Friday, an event held one night each month except when it isn’t, involving six or eight mothers who bonded over first-borns back in the pre-school days a few decades ago. The hostess is responsible for most of the work, with occasional salad/dessert/beverage contributions. Domestic delegation is apparently allowed for in the bywords – in at least one case the husband routinely does the cooking. I sometimes help when it is “our” turn. This time the entrée concept and execution fell to me (although not the shopping). Manhattan clam chowder. Mmm good. We did stretch the tolerance of the one or two semi-vegetarians in the group, since a chowder without at least a bit of bacon seems like a different beast altogether.

Of course I could not resist plying my "harem" with a little cheese: Cap gris nez, Valle de Azul (terrific Spanish blue), Tomme de Savoie, and Robiola. Truthfully, I was abed with book before their party broke up.

Factor in baby-backs with home-made cherry-Zinfandel bbq sauce, mixed fresh beans, and multi-grains on Saturday, not to mention lemon-garlic chicken breasts with scratch potato-biscuits and roasted veggies on Sunday, and you’ve got yourself something like a gourmet weekend.

Throw in a great PBS special on the Wolves of Yellowstone, and the depressing effects of Sunday night can be fobbed off until the wee hours!

And tonight Eric assembled African Peanut Soup for us with the leftover chicken. He points out that, amusingly, the recipe we work from, despite name, purports to have roots in Bangkok! Whatever, it is terrific stuff.

Upcoming possibilities on my gustatory research program are a couple recipes from Nigela Lawson. I have cranberry beans (also known as Roman beans, I learn from terrific local Mediterranean grocer) soaking and cannellini backstocked as option for "Warm Beans with Garlic and Sage." Seems simple enough to be within my range - and I am a bean person for sure. These beans are dry of course, hence spontaneity is not featured. Started tonight, as full-time working folks, we won't be consuming said beans before night-after-next. But I am also keen on lentils and split peas, which can at least in theory be pulled off in one day.

And the second prospect is Lawson's "Thai Clam Pot." Basically this is asian noodle soup with fresh clams and seasoning including garlic, scallions, chili pepper (easy now!), rice wine/sake, basil, and fish sauce. I'm still assembling ingredients.

Seems easy enough, eh? I admit to having had a run-in or two over fish sauce - an ingredient that demands careful handling. Not something you want to drag every slightly-squeamish diner into, at the very least. At minimum, a little lejerdemain called for!

And it occurs to me that a bowl or two of Thai CP will likely not sate my aggressive appetite. I'd better think about some accompaniments.

bon appetit!