I don’t know if you’re like me. I’m rarely excited to watch a documentary. It just feels like work. It’s been a long day; I’m tired; and now, I’m going to have to use my brain to get interested in some subject for a couple of hours. But with well-done documentaries, I quickly become hooked. Among my favorites are:

• Who Killed the Electric Car?
• Why We Fight
• Bowling for Columbine
• Capitalism, a Love Story
• When We Were Kings
• Hoop Dreams
• Roger & Me
• King Corn

There are several good ones I’ve still never seen, like The Fog of War, Food Inc., Man on a Wire, and Gasland. I saw An Inconvenient Truth, and while I could agree with its message, it never really stoked my passion. Same with Sicko. I get it. Health care is broken; others do it better or differently. It was just okay. Same with Super Size Me. Am I really supposed to be surprised that eating nothing but McDonald’s for a month will mess with your health? Not really. March of the Penguins was extremely well done. I can’t even imagine how hard it was to film. It just didn’t stay with me.

Here’s the thing about documentaries: they aren’t really meant to be unbiased. Usually, they tell one side or perspective of the story. I understand there’s another side. But that’s how I want it. I don’t want a director giving me an even-handed account of something without taking a side. I go to NPR for that. I want a passionate filmmaker who is using the medium to shout an opinion to the world. It’s like listening to only one speaker in a debate. I go at it saying, “Okay, go ahead. Convince me. Make me care about this.” And usually, they do. I would, however, like the film to be factual. I would also like the participants to be treated fairly and not be manipulated.

In my favorites list above are three movies by Michael Moore. He is one director who flirts with the manipulation line quite a bit. I’m not crazy about the way he sandbags people and misrepresents himself in interviews. In Bowling for Columbine, for instance, I didn’t care for the interview he did with a slightly addled Charlton Heston. I thought it was a cheap  and easy shot. Heston was obviously suffering from Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s. It wasn’t a fair fight. Okay, you made an old man look foolish. Congratulations. There were other parts of the movie, however–including a cartoon about America’s gun history–that were freaking brilliant.

One of the films I saw recently is actually a series of three films by the BBC called The Power of Nightmares: The Rise of the Politics of Fear. This was suggested by my brother-in-law, Anarchist David. When he suggested it, I’ll admit that I rolled my eyes. I’d never heard of it. It sounded like some of his fringe San Francisco anarchist propaganda. Now that I’ve seen parts 1 and 2, I’ve got to say: it’s fascinating. (FYI: It is available through Netflix.)

It parallels the rise of the NeoCons and the Religious Right with the simultaneous rise of radical Islam. Both began in the 1950s. Both saw what they perceived as the danger of moral decay in their societies. Both realized the value of fear in coalescing the masses. Both created an evil boogeyman that represented a clear and present danger to their ways of life. Both used their causes—made up of both reality and fiction—to raise money, wage war, and trample some of the very values they claimed to believe in.

One of the amazing parts was the strange marriage of the NeoCons (strong military defense folks) with the Religious Right (preachers and family value crowd). The NeoCons were scotch-drinking, hard-ass, special ops, do-whatever-it-takes dudes. They weren’t exactly singing in church choirs and conducting Bible studies. But they wanted to keep America’s war machine well-maintained and funded. For this, they always needed an enemy: Hitler and the Nazis, Commies, Socialism, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, radical Islam, terrorists, etc. The NeoCons realized that while they were strong in money and power, they were small in number. They needed an army. The Religious Right of the 70s and 80s lacked money and power but had an army of passionate, God-fearing, gun-loving Americans. It was a match made, pun intended, in heaven.

To keep their “troops” enthused and at the ready, the NeoCons fed them myths and propaganda. Buzz words were sprinkled throughout, like freedom, liberty, exceptionalism, the American way of life, godless Communists, and Islamofascists. They framed the opposing sides not as nationalities and ideas but as “good” and “evil.” They said things like, “We’re shining the light of freedom into the darkness.” “We will root out the evildoers.” Interestingly, radical Islam was doing these very same things. “America is the ‘great Satan.’” “Thanks be to Allah, only we are the pure and chosen ones.”

Two opposing sides, using the very same strategies and propaganda techniques. Like I said: fascinating.

This election season, you’ll hear some of these buzz words used. Especially “American exceptionalism.” There are some who believe that these are code words for a very aggressive foreign policy. It’s a sabre-rattling technique, a sort of posturing that warns Iran and China and terrorists everywhere that they had better toe the line. It says, “what good is it being a super power if you can’t control the rest of the world for your own benefit?”

It’s also red meat for the “America first” crowd, the isolationists who want to preserve some kind of Frank Capra-esque view of Americana. It’s a very white world with soda fountains and milk delivery and twin beds. It’s a world that can feel threatened by multiculturalism, racial integration, and the tolerance of political correctness—with its civility, acceptance, and kindness. American exceptionalism has an edge to it. There’s an anger and smugness to it.

Problem is, it doesn’t wear well with others. I mean, if you truly are exceptional, does it help to go around telling everyone? That doesn’t help your cause with the outside world much. And if, God forbid, you are no longer “exceptional,” then you just look like a fool telling everyone how great you are when they know the truth.

Meanwhile, the NeoCons don’t go away. They haunt the halls of the Pentagon and the State Department. They run the multi-billion-dollar corporations who fill the coffers of campaign super pacs while making the bullets and drones and other forms of wartime technology. The minute peace breaks out, so do they. They can’t stand it. They start itching. It’s not long before new enemies emerge. America is in danger yet again. And only we are able to confront the evil out there. Who else is going to do it? France? Please. Slowly, the drums of war begin their rhythmic beat. This time, it will be about Iran or North Korea or Somalia or Syria. This peace cannot stand.

Here’s an idea: how about passing a War Tax Bill. It automatically imposes an across-the-board tax increase to fund the use of American military abroad. A flat percentage from everybody. It will pay for the war and not charge it to the deficit. It will demand a wartime sacrifice from all Americans. Plus, perhaps it will make Republicans who hate tax increases only go to war when it’s really warranted. Yeah, when pigs fly.

If anything, films like this just help you to recognize the buzz words and the theatrics. It helps you to know when you are being led down a path. Your ears will perk up when you are being told to be afraid, to shine the beacon of freedom, and to remember just how damned exceptional we are compared to all those foreigners. And you’ll realize how effective it all is. You’ll realize the convincing power that nightmares have.

Stay tuned for part two.

No need to give a lot of background. The Susan G. Komen Foundation pulled their $700,000 grant to Planned Parenthood for breast cancer screening exams. If you don’t know this, your head is in the sand and you probably don’t read blogs.

In October 2010, I stated my distaste for Komen’s pink ribbon campaign every October. As I said, I’m not pro-cancer. I am, however, against marketing that uses blatant consumerism to promote a cause. Pink cement trucks, pink hand guns, and even pink buckets of chicken.

Nothing like promoting the consumption of artery-clogging fat in pursuit of the almighty buck. And maybe all of this would be worth it if a cure was to be found. Again, my cynicism rises up. There is just way too much money involved. Too much money in research; too much money in treatment; too much money in fundraising. As I stated in my 2010 post, if tonight I discovered a ten-cent tea bag that would completely cure cancer, I fully believe that I would be dead by Sunday. It would ruin the lives of too many wealthy foundations and executives. I have no proof, of course. But wouldn’t that make a great movie? Call it Fatal Cure. Cast Liam Neeson, Ashley Judd, and John Malkovich (as the evil cancer association exec, of course) and you’d have box office gold.

The KFC tie-in alone proves that the Komen people have no scruples. So can we be done with the yearly assault of Pepto Bismal products and clothing? But don’t listen to me. Here’s a great post by Cancer Bitch, a cancer survivor who is also sick being pink’d every October. Or, go to Think Before You Pink, an organization seeking more transparency and accountability by companies participating in cancer promotions. This story in the Sacramento Bee revealed how the Komen Foundation has been giving less and less of its huge fortune to cancer research (from 26% to just 16%), and more and more to marketing and self-promotion. On the other hand, the National Breast Cancer Research Foundation gives 88% of its money to cancer research. Snap.

As far as Komen goes, it will now be fun to watch the backpedaling. People will resign or be fired. Damage control will be in full force as a significant portion of their funding goes bye-bye. This is not something you can just apologize for and move on. Whether this was a business move (unlikely) or a political move (duh!), it was incredibly stupid. By tying their future to the Tea Party, they have just alienated half (at least) of the country. And if their policy is not to give grants to organizations under any sort of investigation, Mother Jones wants to know if they are going to withdraw their $7.5 million grant to Penn State. Snap, again. And do you really think that people this stupid are suddenly going to come up with a cure for cancer?

Also, the backlash might finally bring an army to the defense of the undersieged Planned Parenthood organization–something the Komen folks probably didn’t foresee. Conservatives seem to really hate this organization. As my friend Bluz at Darwinfish2 and others have pointed out, only 3% of PP’s activities go to providing abortions. So, why the target? Is it because they provide health services to poor and uninsured women? Perhaps. More likely, it is because they are really the only national organization to do so. Conservatives love to say that PP is responsible for 1 of 4 abortions in this country. That’s because no other national organization provides health services to these women as PP does. Most abortions are performed at private health clinics, usually for women with means and/or insurance. For the poor, the young, and the uninsured, there is no one else to fill the gap, both for family planning and cancer screening procedures. That’s what makes the Komen decision so insidious. It’s not just a policy stance or opinion, it puts the lives of millions of women in danger. It will lead to many more unwanted pregnancies–and more abortions.

Of course, you can choose not to care. You can eat your yogurt from pink cartons. You can run 5Ks to add to Komen’s ridiculously large bank account. You can wear your pink ribbons and t-shirts because it’s just so socially conscious. But as of now, the Komen Foundation has ceased to be a charitable fund-raising organization and has, instead, become a Right-wing political action committee. That’s fine. They are free to do that. But know this… there’s no going back.

Komen CEO Nancy Brinker

BREAKING NEWS: Well, I couldn’t even finish this post before the Komen people completely caved. Apparently, there is “going back.” CNN is reporting that Komen’s funding of PP will be restored, this according to Senator Frank Lautenberg.

From now on, going on a weekend bender fueled by Jack Daniels, cocaine, gambling, and prostitutes, and then apologizing afterward to all your family and friends while vowing to do better will be called “Pulling a Komen.”

By aborting their original decision, does this mean that Komen founder and CEO Nancy Brinker will resign? Probably not. Does it mean that she won’t continue to seek ways to destroy Planned Parenthood? Probably not.

As for me, I plan to keep avoiding the pink ribbons. Doing so doesn’t mean that I don’t support cancer research and support for its victims. Believe it or not, there are other organizations fighting the good fight, such as:

The National Breast Cancer Coalition

The Breast Cancer Research Foundation

The Black Women’s Health Imperative

I’m sure there are more. Feel free to mention your own.

In the meantime, three cheers for the hackers who broke into the Susan G. Komen Website last night to tell the truth.

You’ve gotta love nerds. God bless their Star Wars-loving, Dungeons and Dragons-playing little hearts.

After spending around ten days in a no Internet cocoon, I’m finding that getting back into the swing of writing and posting is a bit rough. Call it the End-of-January Blues. Call it the Tax Season Doldrums. But I find that I’m just tired.

I’m tired of politics. I’m a political junkie. I usually love following the campaigns and policy debates and legislative battles. But I’ve got to admit that even for me, the tenor and tone of this election has become completely discouraging as, you know, a citizen.

I’m tired of the Right with all their righteous (because they are the Right) anger and hate. A better term would be that they are demagogues, from the Greek demos “people” (perhaps akin to Greek daiesthai “to divide”) and defined by Merriam-Webster’s as “a leader who makes use of popular prejudices and false claims and promises in order to gain power; a leader championing the cause of the common people.”

And speaking of common people, I’m tired of how Christianity has been hijacked by fear-mongering, white-haired men of the Right. A few weeks ago, a group of several hundred evangelicals got together. They didn’t meet to address problems like poverty, homelessness, hate speech, income disparity, or war. No, they met to discuss ways in which they could regain their political power and influence. Really? It’s things like this that have led so many to associate Christianity with intolerance, racism, misogyny, and xenophobia.

And have you seen those debate audiences? You would have thought that South Carolina is as white as Idaho! The GOP better win this election because I’m not so sure about their future. They just aren’t making old, white voters like they used to.

And you, on the Left, don’t think I’m not a tired of your act, as well. I’m more than dismayed at Obama’s secret drone wars that are killing so many, although how many we don’t know because they are so secret. I’m dismayed by his signing of the NDAA bill which allows for the indefinite detention of U.S. citizens without charge merely be calling them “terrorists.” Perhaps the fact that Obama signed it “with reservations” was meant to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. His promise not to use it recklessly was nice… especially because he will always be the President! Right?

I’m also not crazy about the vast number of former Goldman Sachs executives he continues to rely on for financial advice and federal appointments. The bottom line is: Obama is bought and paid for by Wall Street just like the Republicans are. (Ironic, considering he is a socialist, European despot! See demagoguery above.) But, he does appoint Supreme Court justices who are much more acceptable than the other side. So there’s that.

Bottom line, I’m already tired of all the campaign theatrics and stagecraft on both sides. I’m tired of the way it divides our country. I’m tired of the billions of dollars that it wastes when people are unemployed and underpaid and sick and hungry and homeless.

I’m tired of much more mundane things, as well.

I’m already tired of a Super Bowl I could give a flying fig about. I’m already tired of the Academy Awards honoring movies I really didn’t care for or don’t want to see. I’m tired of hockey and basketball. I’m tired of winter, even though it’s been above forty degrees most of the time. I’m tired of trying to determine which assessment to use to figure out what I owe to whom in this city.

I’m tired of people I know going through tough times. I’m tired of kids getting sick. I thought of writing about a couple I know in Chicago whose 4-year-old daughter was diagnosed with leukemia on Friday. It’s crazy. She was running and jumping around on Wednesday. On Friday, she had leukemia. It pisses me off when life gets unfair like that, but then I look up the street and see Children’s Hospital, which is chock full of sick kids… every. single. day. Why do I only get angry about that when it’s people I know? Otherwise, it’s out of sight, out of mind.

Don’t start thinking that my life isn’t going well. It is! Things are good.

I could write about the fifteen pounds I’ve lost and how I had to shop for a new belt and blue jeans this week because my wife was singing “Pants on the Ground.” But that’s sort of boring, too.

I could write about the new business venture I’m involved in, but that would be premature and might jinx things. So, stay tuned.

Life is good. It just doesn’t seem that interesting, right now. I’d like to declare that I am only going to write about positive things from here on out… that I will only use my powers for good and encouragement and motivation. Yeah, but admit it… it’s so much more fun and interesting to rant and complain and accuse and demagogue.

Sometimes….

It started great by taking MLK Day off (no, I don’t get it off) in order to get some stuff done. Check. Mrs. Carpetbagger was off to Arizona with her niece, The Princess, visiting my parents. So I was “baching it” with the dog. Monday was fine. I thought I could afford it even though I am carefully managing my dwindling vacation/sick days for a trip we are taking in February.

Tuesday morning, I was up and out bright and early in order to tackle all the missed work, emails, and messages from my three-day weekend. Turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. Not a cough or sputter. Called Triple-A, hoping it was just battery but knowing that would be far too easy. Sure enough, the first dude checked the battery and generator and everything was fine. He suspected either the starter or a fuse that drove the starter. Well, we know it’s not going to be the fuse, don’t we? After the second Triple-A guy towed the car to my mechanic, I set off for Mrs. Carpetbagger’s car… Doh! Of course, it was at the airport. I really couldn’t take more time off this week and it was already 9:30am. I called Enterprise Rent-a-car because they pick you up. As I’m totaling up what all of this was going to cost me, I had a thought: Hey, if I can just get to the airport, I could get the other car! To pull this off would entail a) finding someone to take me to the airport at 9:30am on a Tuesday, and b) Mrs. Bagger answering her phone at 7:30am in Phoenix to tell me where it was located in extended parking. Eureka. Both points were solved on the first try, and I was soon going westward to the airport to get the car before going east to the office in Westmoreland County. Welcome to Tuesday.

Wednesday, I was trying to get a new contact lens to replace the one I had lost the previous week. No dice. I hadn’t been seen by the eye doc in two years. They weren’t going to write a prescription for a new lens without an exam. Doh! More time off. Of course, the 11:30am appointment lasted for three hours. And man, did they work me over. My eyes, as it turns out, are quite the medical phenomenon. After four different drops I was fully dilated, checked for glaucoma, and given a topography for my corneas (like the one on the left). Somewhere in my past, some doctor had pronounced that my eyes have what is called Keratoconus–corneas that are cone-shaped  instead of dome-shaped. Hard, gas-permeable contacts work well on this condition to provide a proper shape. One of the two doctors I saw on Wednesday disagreed.

This second doc was some sort of big whoop-de-doo eye specialist and surgeon who teaches at Pitt. This means that he is super smart but has lousy bed-side manners. He was staring into my eyes, shining lights at them, ordering me to move them around, and dictating notes to a furiously scribbling nurse/assistant/student. Words were being thrown around with no context. Words like thinning… degenerative…. pellucid. In my mind, of course, I’ve already decided that I’m going blind. Maybe a telethon can be held. Maybe my dog will learn to obediently lead me safely around. (Not likely. She’d get me killed on day one! “What do you mean cars aren’t made of marshmallows?”) Maybe I can develop a world-class music career like Stevie Wonder! Maybe my other senses will become so finely tuned that I will be able to solve crimes! Yeah, I can go that far that quickly. Finally, the doc decided to talk to me… you know, the patient, using normal words. He said that what I actually have is called Pellucid Marginal Degeneration.

Aw, that can’t be good, right?

It actually means that my corneas are weakened around the edges, causing the eye to be shaped like a beer-belly instead of like the Astrodome. See? It also turns out that one of the benefits of getting older is that by your forties, your eyes stiffen, pretty much like every other joint in the body. In this case, however, the stiffening tends to stop or significantly slow down the degeneration. Score one benefit for the aging process! Long story shot (too late!), it’s why I can’t see well; it’s why I see better with contacts than with glasses; and it’s why I’m not a candidate for Lasik surgery. The doc did tell me that there is a surgery for it but it’s not approved in the U.S. He said they have sent some patients to Toronto to have it done. What!? They send people to other countries for procedures that are not approved here? Is it done in the back of a van by a doctor who calls himself Carlos? It costs 5 to 12 grand per eye and they don’t take insurance. Yeah, uh, thanks, doc, but I think I’ll take my chances with the contacts.

After the three-hour torture session, my eyes were so dilated that I couldn’t see anything up close. I was able to drive to my office because I was fine for anything more than ten feet away. But reading… looking at a computer… just about anything I could hold in my hands… all of it looked like someone had pixelated it out. I don’t know what they put in my eyes but they really weren’t back to normal until late on Thursday.

Anyhoo… until my contacts arrive, I’m still sort of vision-challenged for reading and computers. Just doing this post is starting to give me a headache.

By this morning, the car is fixed and Mrs. Bagger is back. Now, anytime she asks me to do something unpleasant, I can just look at her with my sad panda face and say, “Did you forget that I have Pellucid Marginal Degeneration?” I plan to get out of doing tons of stuff!

And I’m contacting Bono, Rihanna, and Jay-Z to write me a song for the telethon. Something simple. “We Are the World” meets “Hope for Haiti.” Something like that. We can wipe out PMD in our lifetime. Won’t you give now?

As we throw dirt on another Steeler season, my mother sent me pics from the 2005 funeral of Jimmy Smith. Long-time Yinzers may be familiar with this but since it occurred three months before my arrival in town, I was not. This Alabama resident was such a Steelers fan that this is the way he wanted to go out.

Jimmy may be recently deceased but he’s looking good in his black and gold PJs while forgoing the coffin for an easy chair. And don’t miss the table. It holds his can of beer and a pack of Newports.

And what funeral would be complete without Steelers’ highlights playing on TV. Jimmy may be dead but he’s not going out to any sappy organ music. And I’m sure they’ve edited out all the negative plays, just like in heaven.

Plenty of room for mourners. Put on your best jersey. Wave your Terrible Towel. Jimmy is going home in style. He’s hanging with Myron Cope these days. Don’t feel sorry for him. Feel sorry for the rest of us who now must deal with the off-season, NBA basketball, and the month of February.

Remember this guy?

His name is Rollen Stewart and throughout the late 70s, he showed up at nationally televised golf tournaments, NBA Finals, baseball and football games, and even Charles and Diane’s wedding. And despite the efforts by TV executives to exclude him, he would inevitably end up on screen at some point, acting all crazy and pointing at the slogan on his t-shirt. I guess he thought that everyone would run to their Bibles, look up that verse, and immediately fall to their knees. I wonder if that ever happened. I also remember wondering how Rollen had both the money and time to go to all those events.

In 1992, Stewart’s fervor turned felonious when he took a hotel maid hostage at a hotel near LAX. He offered to release her if he could have a few moments of airtime on every media network. He didn’t get his wish. When he threatened to start shooting at approaching airplanes, the patience of law enforcement ran out. His room was stormed; he was taken into custody; and he eventually received three consecutive life sentences.

Like most other Burghers, I subjected myself to the shock and awe of losing to the Tim Tebow-led Denver Broncos on Sunday. It was not as devastating to me as to the many life-long, live-and-die Stiller yinzers out there. My band wagon ticket was only punched back in 2005. But I know that life in Pittsburgh is that much more interesting when the Steelers are still winning. Any year that they fold up their tent before the Super Bowl makes for a longer, colder winter. (Even when the weather isn’t that much colder!) This is doubly troublesome when the Penguins continue to be concussed and mediocre. It’s not a good sign when Pittsburgh is looking forward to baseball season.

The irritation of losing was compounded by the obnoxious Tebow-files who insisted that by some sort of divine miracle, God Himself nudged the Broncos to victory. Now, I fully realize that probably 80% of this is just people having fun. Still, it seems to push actual devout faith into superstitious activities such as rain dancing, animal sacrifice, and talismans. It’s Rollen Stewart jumping in front of the television cameras all over again. It’s one thing when opponents of Christianity do this, but it’s quite another when evangelicals willingly go there, trying to use Tebow as some kind of supercharged commercial to better promote God before an unbelieving world. To think that his football performance would compel a doubter into full-throated praise of the Almighty.

Then there was his passing total: 316 yards (80 of which came on one play in overtime). Remember Rollen’s t-shirt? 316. It’s an omen (even though Christians aren’t supposed to believe in omens, but I digress). It suddenly became a Canton-worthy achievement. In regulation, Tebow was 9 for 20 for 236 yards. For any objective observer, those would be Rex Grossman-type numbers. But for Tebow-files, it was the football version of The Natural. Lights exploding. Sparks flying. Cue the sappy orchestra. Forget the fact that the Steelers’ running back had never run for 100 yards in a game in his life. Forget the fact that our QB was playing with a walker. Forget the fact that 2/3 of our defensive line limped off the field in the first quarter, taking away any kind of a pass rush. Forget the fact that our starting safety was in street clothes because Denver’s thin air took out his spleen the last time he played there. Forget the fact that the Steelers would have lost by 20 to a real quarterback. Forget all of that. Cue Tim’s final pose for the cameras.

Cue the Pittsburgh mayor paying off a lost bet…

Sour grapes from a Pittsburgh observer? Indeed. I fully admit it: I’m conflicted over the whole thing. I think it’s a religious bunch of man-made hooey. I think it’s a desperate attempt of some believers trying to grab a flukie football moment and say, “There! See? See what faith will do?” Only what about Troy Polamalu’s faith? What about all the tragedy that occurred in the world while God was busy fixing the end of a football game? When Tim gets creamed by the Patriots next week, do we read anything about God into that? Probably not.

Of course, the other part of my conflicted dilemma is that on Sunday, I will be rooting for Tim Tebow to pray down miraculous fire from heaven to smote the evil, Satan-worshipping New England Patriots. You know I will. I’ll be pulling for that miracle like every other Bible thumper who pins God’s reputation on Tim Tebow’s 5-cent arm.

God, help me. Please make it stop.

Addendum:  This was post number 327 on Carpetbaggery. Can you imagine if it had been 316? So close. That would have truly been a sign.

Certainly, the major themes for the year have been global unemployment and the resulting Arab Spring and Occupy movements. Any other year, you’d think that the weather would be the big story of the year, what with record Texas wildfires, Mississippi floods, multi-state tornadoes, Hurricane Irene going all the way to Vermont, and earthquakes in Virginia and Oklahoma.

2011 saw the end of several eras, including NASA’s shuttle program, Oprah, Border’s, and any respectability that college football ever had.

Month by month, the news just took it to a new level all year-long with all things tragic, heartbreaking, and awe-inspiring.

JANUARY

Right off the bat, it seemed that this was going to be a notable year when a deranged gunman shot U.S. Senator Gabby Giffords and nineteen others. Six were killed, including a sitting federal judge and 9-year-old Christina Taylor Green, who was born on 9/11.

On January 11, Tunisia’s president fled the country, leading to a series of unrest called the Arab Spring that would shake the political landscape of the entire Middle East.  By the 25th, protests had begun in Cairo.

FEBRUARY

Incredibly, and, for the most part on the demonstrator’s side, nonviolently, Egyptian President Mubarak left office after a 3-decade-long reign.

MARCH

You know, in most years, an earthquake that leads to a devastating killer tsunami that leads to a nuclear meltdown would probably qualify as the biggest story of the year. In 2011, we just called it “March.” When you think about it, it sounds like the plot to a bad Michael Bay film that would sound too incredible when pitched. But on March 11, it happened. The toll of the dead and missing was over 20,000. But who knows how many others will succumb to the radiation leaked into Japanese ground and water.

APRIL

From April 24-27, the U.S. saw the largest outbreak of tornadoes in world history, easily doubling the old record. In that four-day period, there were 353 tornadoes in 21 states that killed 321 people. The most notable was the April 27 storm that ravaged Tuscaloosa, Alabama.

All right, compared to the rest, it’s probably not that big of a story but we need something hopeful by now, don’t we. The best I can give you was the April 29 nuptials of Will and Kate. Seriously, that’s all I’ve got for ya.

MAY

Back to the shoot ‘em up video game that was 2011, we have the stunning death of Osama Bin Laden on May 1 at the hands of Seal Team 6 and a dog named Cairo. We all know that evil world villains die in 3′s, so let’s call this #1.

May 14th saw the arrest and sexual allegations against Dominique Straus Kahn, head of the International Monetary Fund. As big a story as this was at the time, much of it was discredited along with the reputation of the accuser.

On May 22, the town of Joplin, Missouri, was nearly wiped off the map by another killer tornado.

JUNE

June was pretty quiet except for the Twitter scandal and resignation of Congressman Anthony Weiner. All public figures took notice that sharing stuff on Twitter is not a private conversation.

JULY

July was a rough month for the Brits. It began on July 4 (ironically, American Independence Day) with the breaking phone hacking scandals in Britain and the end of News of the World, Rupert Murdoch’s news outlet that began publishing in 1843.

The, on July 23, came the death of troubled British musician Amy Winehouse.

AUGUST

On August 6, came the worst single-day American casualties for the entire Afghan war, including a helicopter crash that killed most (25 members) of Seal Team 6. Since then, conspiracy theories have run amok with Jack Ruby-like tales of cover-ups and getting rid of witnesses. Everything is all top-secret of course, which only leads to further conspiracies.

On August 23, Libyan rebels took the capital city of Tripoli and ransacked Muammar Gaddafi’s (insert your own spelling) palace.

SEPTEMBER

I thought that the 10-year anniversary of 9/11 came and went without much fanfare, which I consider to be a good thing.

On September 16, American citizens took over Zuccotti Park in New York City and proclaimed their movement as Occupy Wall Street. Say what you want about their lack of a cohesive message or leadership, the Occupy movement swept the globe (there was even an Occupy Tehran!) and changed the national discussion from one of mortgage crisis and unemployment to one of income inequality between the uppermost 1% and the rest of the 99%. This conversation is likely to shape most of the election season for 2012, especially once the GOP picks their nominee.

OCTOBER

October was marked by two notable passings. One was Apple CEO Steve Jobs on the fifth. The other was the inevitable death of Gaddafi on the 20th. Call him evil world villain #2 to pass off this mortal coil.

NOVEMBER

On November 9th, longtime Penn State football coach Joe Paterno was relieved of duty in the wake of the sex scandal that rocked the university. Joe joined former Ohio State coach Jim Tressell on the sidelines in a year full of scandals and malfeasance in college football.

As a financial crisis rocked Europe, Greek Prime Minister George Papandreou left office on November 8th. That was followed by the resignation of Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi on November 11. I submit that never has there been another year in which so many longtime national leaders left office nonviolently. The European financial crisis remains one of the most ominous threats to global financial security as we go into 2012.

DECEMBER

I don’t even know how to shoehorn this one in but one year out from the 2012 presidential election, one has to note the chaos and clown car mentality that is the GOP presidential field. When Herman Cain suspended his campaign on December 3rd, it was just one in a series of astonishing statements and resumes for this group of candidates. At this point, it truly feels like the Republicans are going to choke away any chance to win an election against what has to be the most vulnerable presidential incumbent since Jimmy Carter. Of course, there’s still ten months to go and, as we learned this past year, anything can happen.

On December 19, North Korean leader Kim Jong Il passed away from heart disease. Call him global villain #3 in our death troika of evil super geniuses. Perhaps they are in hell trying to start a boy band and waiting for Syrian President Assad or Iranian President Ahmadinejad to fill out their numbers. Well, they’ve got nothing by time.

Again, you might assume that the end of nine-year war might crack the top three news stories of the year, but when the last U.S. troops left Iraq on December 18, it barely cracked the evening news for that day. I fear that this nation is so war-weary of hearing of roadside bombings, suicide vests, and drone strikes that any further news accounts from the Middle East tends to bounce right off our collective consciousness. I also fear that the current administrations increasingly secret drone wars and wanton treatment of civil rights could come back to bite them in the coming year’s election. We’ll see.

All in all, for a news hound like myself, 2011 was a remarkable year. Now comes the sequel: 2012. You know, the year in which the Mayan calendar says we all get canceled. Well, we all know they have to ratchet things up for the sequel. So, buckle in. It could be a bumpy ride.

That’s why, this year, I am getting all my weather info from my weather rock.

How does it work? Well, it’s a little complicated at first, but you just have to read the manual:

• If the rock is wet, it’s raining.
• If the rock is swinging, the wind is blowing.
• If the rock casts a shadow, the sun is shining.
• If the rock does not cast a shadow, the sky is cloudy.
• If the rock is not visible, it is foggy.
• If the rock is white, it is snowing.
• If the rock is coated with ice, there is a frost.
• If the ice is thick, it’s a heavy frost.
• If the rock is bouncing up and down, there is an earthquake.
• If the rock is under water, there is a flood.
• If the rock is wet and swinging violently, there is a hurricane.
• If the rock is warm, it is summer.
• If the rock is cold, it is winter.
• If the rock is missing, there was a tornado.

Weather Rock accuracy:  100%

And best of all, it’s online. More accurately, it’s on a line of twine in my backyard.

Have no fear; today is the shortest day of the year. Just when the weather couldn’t seem wronger; the days, they are starting to grow longer.

Wow. That’s my first poem ever. Could you tell? Shut up.

I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before. I saw Mindbling’s last minute gift guide over at the Bitch Burgh blog and thought, Hell, I could steal that!

You see, besides being a renaissance blogger and general bon vivant man-about-town, I am also… “The Gift Whisperer.” Don’t know what to get that hard-to-please person on your gift list? Your troubles are over. You’ve come to the right place. I hereby present my top 10 gifts for those-who-have-everything-so-why-the-hell-do-you-have-to-spend-half-a-day-just-before-Christmas-trying-to-figure-out-what-to-give-them. So, forget the fact that we have like five hours of sunlight today. Let’s get shoppin’.  And you’re welcome.

#10 – Justin Bieber Singing Toothbrush and Dental Care

I first ran into the toothbrush when shopping over Thanksgiving weekend. It was in the Giant Eagle of all places. Now there’s a whole dental care kit. Features a song for the morning and for the evening. Two minutes of music, just the time dentists claim it takes to properly brush your teeth. And don’t forget Justin’s tongue scraper and the 55 yards of mint-flavored Bieber floss.

#9 – Dieting with Jesus

Dieting with Jesus magnets for the fridge. This is one of those intervention-type gifts. It says, “For you to get back into those skinny jeans is really going to take a miracle!”

#8 – LED Faucet Lights

You know you want some of these sweet LED faucet lights for the kitchen or bathroom. The blue light actually turns red when the water heats up. And if you are wondering, this is another reason the terrorists hate us.

#7 – Ninja Bread Men

‘Nuff said. Find them here.

#6 – Instant Snow

I know, I know, come January, this gift is akin to giving a gift certificate for ice to Eskimos. But when it’s 50 degrees on December 21st, as it is today, a little of the white stuff might put you more into the Christmas mood. Or how about for those relatives who live in the Sun Belt? Just add water, and voila!

#5 – Your Face on a Pillow

Because nothing will creep visitors out like your distorted mug on a pillow.

#4 – Star Trek Pizza Cutter

Pizza, the final frontier. You know a geek somewhere who has to have this. So, set your phasers on pepperoni and boldly go where no man has gone before.

#3 – Giant Swiss Army Knife

Keep it handy around the house, or carry it in your pocket and get a free vasectomy as a bonus gift! At $849, this baby is a little pricey, but who can put a price on something with 85 tools and 100 functions. And it does come with a key ring.

#2 – Bacon Gumballs

Once again, ’nuff said about these.

#1 – Santa gets his drink on

Yeah, that’s how we do it at the North Pole. Careful, don’t spill any of that precious Scotch. Santa only rolls with single malt! Most of these are probably sold out by now, but it’s not too late to put your name in for next year.

Bonus Gift – Finally, you can now give a flying F#ck!

Yeah, I’m looking at you, Bluz. You know you need one of these! It’s radio controlled. Or, you know what? Maybe this year, you don’t give a flying f#ck. Maybe you keep it for yourself and finally give a rat’s ass instead. They have those, too.

Happy gift buying. Glad we here at Carpetbaggery could lend a hand. We’re givers over here. It’s what we do. We’re all about the giving.

Check out what Times Square looked like on May 8, 1945 — also known as VE Day, the end of European hostilities in World War II. And this was after only three years of warfare. But this was an honorable war. It was not a war we wanted to fight. In fact, the U.S. had resisted sending any troops to Europe until January of 1942. This was back in the days when we only fought if we were attacked by another nation or asked to help by a country suffering from aggression. We were proud of the fact that the U.S. was not an invader or a regime changer. We didn’t poke our nose into other people’s business.

Today, nobody is in much of a celebratory mood. Sure, we won. Saddam is long gone. The country has a new government. After a short ceremony this week, U.S. troops handed over full military control to the Iraqis. No fireworks. No mass celebration. In fact, some folks are downright upset about it.

On Wednesday, Senator John McCain said, “It is clear that this decision of a complete pullout of United States troops from Iraq was dictated by politics, and not our national security interests. I believe history will judge this president’s leadership with the scorn and disdain it deserves.”

McCain still fears that Iraq threatens our national security. Perhaps he has forgotten that this date for pulling out American troops was set by the Bush administration. Perhaps he has also forgotten that the Iraqis have asked (i.e. demanded) that we leave. Perhaps he is unclear on the fact that Iraq is not our little toy to do with whatever we want. It is their country. If the new Iraqi government wants us to leave, we either start a new war with them or we leave.

As we go, here are some pertinent facts on our time in Iraq:

1 Trillion — American dollars spent or approved for spending through 2011.

9 Billion — Amount of money unaccounted for.

6.6 Billion — Amount of money stolen through graft and incompetence.

20 Billion — Amount paid to KBR, a former Halliburton division, to supply U.S. military in Iraq with food, fuel, housing and other items.

1.4 Billion — Overcharges from Halliburton classified by the Pentagon as Unreasonable and Unsupported.

20.2 Billion — Annual cost for U.S. air conditioning in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

5,000 — Cost per second of the war in 2008.

390,000 — Cost to deploy one U.S. troop to Iraq for one year

4, 486 — Number of U.S. military casualties as of November 30, 2011.

150 — Number of journalists killed in Iraq (98 by murder and 52 by acts of war)

14 — Number of journalists killed by U.S. forces.

10,125 — Iraqi Police and Soldiers killed as of July 31, 2011.

104,080 to 113,728 — Number of Iraqi civilian death (from Iraq Body Count)

These are eye-opening and tragic numbers. In a way, I guess you could count this as part of the total body count of 9/11 (since our invasion of Iraq was a direct result of 9/11)

That is a heavy cost for one nation to bear. And our cost was pretty dear, as well.

Going on, I have a sinking feeling that we are a nation that is somewhat war-hungry. We’ve created a beast that needs to be fed. You just can’t have billion-dollar corporations in the military industrial complex if there are no wars. In other words, we can’t make more bullets if you aren’t out there shooting any! And it’s not just bullets and accessories any more. Now, they are making the soldiers themselves. In fact, there is a new look for the American warrior. It is a leaner look. It is much more lethal look. It looks something like this.

Don’t get me wrong. I’d much rather there not be war at all. But doesn’t the use of drones change the way decisions to go to war are made? It’s painful to enter a war when it is fought by the sons and daughters of most U.S. families. It’s a little less painful to enter into war that is mostly fought by the poor. It’s fairly pain-free to enter into war if it won’t cost you any shed blood whatsoever. As Patton once said, “No bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor, dumb bastard die for his country.” It seems like that is now the official stance of the U.S. military.

You know, watching Star Wars, I always assumed that the U.S. military would always be more like these guys:

As it turns out, the U.S. military really wants to look more like these guys:

Anyway, happy VI Day.

Don’t worry, somewhere in Washington, they are already planning the next “engagement.” Tehran, I’m looking at you!