Memo to Jimmy Carter.

Shut your hole and know your role, you embarrassing relic from a thankfully dead age of American malaise and impotence.

"President Bush's war was ill-advised and unnecessary and based on erroneous statements, and has turned out to be a tragedy," Carter said. "And my prayer has been that brave young American men and women, and others who are there, that their lives will be spared and there will be some peaceful resolution of the war."

My prayer is that we actually win the damn war and they can come home knowing they changed the world. The only way this war becomes a tragedy is if you have your way and we cut and run like a scalded dog.

Carter, who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2002,

Hardly the first or only time that particular award has been so hilariously misdirected.

also blamed what he called Bush's pro-Israel policies for engendering animosity against America.

"The prime source of animosity towards the United States is the lack of progress in dealing with the Palestinian issue," Carter said, adding that past U.S. administrations since Harry Truman's have maintained a "balanced position" in dealing with the rights of the Arab population within the Jewish nation.

So...if you're right (and you're not) that anger over our "balanced position" on the Palestinian cause culminated in the fiery death of about 3,000 Americans, who in their right mind would advocate unbalancing our position in favor of the side that did the killing? Ludicrous. Moot, of course, since the rest of the Arabs don't give two shits about the Palestinians except for their utility as wedge between the US and Israel. And if this country ever abandons Israel, God help us.

[Link via Allahpundit.]

Today's dose of Schadenfreude.

In the immortal words of Nelson Muntz, "HAha."

Trojan Horse Attacks Mac OS X:

Until now, Mac users have prided themselves [Have they ever. -ed] on running a system that has been largely virus-free. Few Mac OS X users run antivirus software, or are wary of double-clicking files they've downloaded or received in e-mail.

And why is that? Is it because the wicked cool Apple OS is so special, so unique, it's virtually virus-proof? Er...no, actually.

Security consultant and virus expert Ken Vanwyk, said there was nothing special protecting Mac OS X, or Linux for that matter, from malicious code.

"They're all susceptible to viruses and Trojans, just as Windows is," he said. "They just haven’t been targeted yet."

Vanwyk cautioned OS X users not to open e-mail attachments unless they were expecting them.

"If OS X users are being careful, I don’t see they should be rushing out to buy antivirus software," he said. "But if it goes the way of Windows, anti-virus product is in their future."

Davis said the Trojan most likely appeared because of Apple's growing influence in digital music.

"Given Apple's previous market share, OS X wasn't a challenge," he said. "As Apple becomes more visible, it's more of an attractive target."

I just thought about Lileks and smiled sadistically. I don't particularly want him hit with a virus, of course, but his occasional Odes to Apple make me grind my teeth.

[Thanks to Angela for the link and the shared glee.]

Notes from half a game.

Went to the Dayton Dragons opener last night and they lost like Mets (11-3). I mention this only to report that as I was walking past Brixx bar on my way to the game they were playing "Loser" by Beck on the patio outside. I'm sensing a lack of love for the team, but it could have been coincidence.

Anyway, I left after the 4th because I'm a dumbass and didn't take a jacket, and got home to discover the Mets also losing like Mets (10-8), didn't check the details, then this morning I find out Erickson wasn't pitching because he strained a hammy during the warmup.

Ahem.

Strained his hammy during the warmup. Is this some kind of karmic payback for something? Did Nelly Doubleday lay a curse on the guys when he sold out, or is it something more sinister? Maybe something connected to Kevin Mitchell cutting the head off his girlfriend's cat? Continuing to monitor the situation.

The Alamo opens this weekend.

Despite, or maybe because of, the generally bad reviews, If I can convince Angela to see it I might go (she's a transplanted Texan and therefore the control subject by which I will set the bullshit meter), but I must point out there has never--and I mean never--been a good movie made about the Alamo. It's a cursed property. The advance word on this one is particularly bad; months ago when they were running it for test audiences I heard disturbing rumors of Davie Crockett all but wetting himself during the battle. Call me a rube, but I prefer my heroes steely eyed and devil-may-care, and I don't care to see the King of the Wild Frontier gibbering in the corner with fear.

Excellent snark:

No one here gets out alive, not the director, not the screenwriters (a phone book's worth), not the cast, and not the audience, who, a few dollars lighter and a few hours closer to death, get a chance to glimpse their own mortality reflected in the dead, shark-eyed glare of the bankruptcy of another big-budget prestige picture.

That's just good writin'.

Because they can't.



Sometimes I have to wonder just what kind of dimwits are running the show in Iraq. If our troops can't fly Old Glory, they might as well be wearing baby blue helmets.

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That was satisfying.

The world goes on turning in my absence.

For those who might be wondering where the hell I was last week (and there can't be many of you), I spent the entire week riding around in a Big Truck with my older brother, getting filthy grimy (2 showers in six days--I repulsed myself by Thursday and was near-hysterical in my demands that we halt and ablute ourselves at a truckstop), eating terribly (road food report: Snyder's makes a mustard and Vidalia potato chip, as well as like-flavored Funyun type snack rings. Found the chips at a diner outside Pittsburgh and the rings at a Truckstop on I-74 in Indiana. Also, the Hostess apple spice cupcakes have a harsh chemical overtone that coffee really brings out, unlike the orange cupcakes.), and not sleeping. We had a near-miss on a delivery that stressed me out so much I think I induced Sean to have an anxiety attack, causing his left hand to go numb. (We made it with 3 minutes--THREE--to spare.) I learned that big trucks have three enormous batteries, that it's sort of hit-or-miss cranking the engine when you only have two, what a battery smells like when the posts burn off, that a forklift *can* move a truck loaded with 40-someodd tons of steel enough to push start it, that it's possible to restart the engine by popping the clutch on a truck rolling uphill if you have enough momentum, and that hooking one of the batteries up backwards is a Very Bad Thing.

But it was fun. Steel mills are interesting, and trucking is a weird profession. I'd been out on a truck before with Michelle, but she was what Sean refers to as a "lazy drop-and-hook bastard" (meaning she doesn't drive a covered wagon or a flatbed and doesn't have muscles like a stevedore.) Anyway, I'm back, so further posting delays are due to indolence rather than absence.