Where Men Win Glory: The Odyssey of Pat Tillman There was a time—ever so briefly—when Pat Tillman dominated the news cycle. Actually, there were two times: one, when the football semi-star joined the military and become a posterboy for patriotism and self-sacrifice, and another when he died via friendly fire, becoming yet another It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad Mad World story in a long string of nonsensical happenings on the other side of the world.
Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them It occurred to me recent that I’ve read and reviewed Al Franken’s 2005 The Truth (With Jokes) three times since the start of this meme (1, 2, 3), but never its predecessor, Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them, which is arguably an even better book.
Conservative pundit Bill O’Reilly hates Media Matters, a website/organization which mostly just documents lies and distortions of conservatives. It’s important to note that there are really no polemics or extended rants of the Ann Coulter variety—the site is, by and large, either transcripts or video clips of the TV appearance/radio show/etc. in question, usually followed by evidence to the contrary. Given O’Reilly’s penchant for dissembling on-air, it is little wonder that he hates them so much.
The Truth (With Jokes) I read this book once in 2005 when it came out, and then again in 2006.
As this is my third time reading The Truth (With Jokes) since this meme began, it holds a record (as of now) as my most frequently-read book in the 52 Books in 52 Weeks meme. Why read it a third time? Well, if it wasn’t obvious enough, the recent election had something to do with it. I remembered Franken’s last chapter, modeled as a letter to his eventual grandchildren, about the 2008 election (the book was written in 2005) and how it represented a tipping point in the way the United States did business—read: the conservatives were out, the liberals were in, and everybody lived happily ever after.
The Assault on Reason I hadn’t even been aware that Al Gore had written a book; we all know him, of course, as the human klaxon for global warming, but he’s apparently been busy writing a book that’s not at all about climate change. The George W. Bush presidency has inspired not a few polemics, rivaled perhaps only by anti-Clinton screeds by hysterical conservatives during the 1990s, though with noticeably fewer conspiracy theories.
Initially, The Assault on Reason struck me as a sort of mourning for old-fashioned politics. Gore sounds a bit like an old fogey, declaring at one point that the precipitous decline of the print medium in favor of television has inevitably lead to a similar decline in the breadth and quality of the “informed citizenry.” His point here was that television is largely a one-way medium, but wouldn’t it be equally fair to say that print is as well? And doesn’t the internet to some degree change much of this? Gore touches on this point, but doesn’t go far enough with it, I think.
For a while, the book turns into a paean to the U.S. Government of social science textbooks, romanticizing (to a point approaching fellatio) the Founding Fathers and the democratic process, which Gore paints as if the entire bureaucracy was made of Jefferson Smiths prior to Nixon. So, some of it steers dangerously close (or into) starry-eyed flag-waving, which is all good and fine except that we all know it already. Or, at least, we should, though understandably Gore’s point is that many Americans seem to have forgotten the importance of the Bill of Rights (except the 2nd Amendment, which is vital for shooting at brown people).
From there, though, and for the greater part of the book, Gore turns his wrath at the Bush administration. Not to say that I don’t agree with many of his points, but it’s little more than a refresher course in George’s Constitution-shredding. And, of course, he’s preaching to the choir: conservatives won’t give Al the time of day when he talks about something as politically-neutral as climate change; they’re certainly not going to stand still and pay attention when he talks about Bush manhandling the judiciary, quashing decent, making up laws (signing statements, which was genuinely new to me), virtually codifying torture, and giving a big fat middle finger to the rest of the international community. This is old news, anyway.
Imagine an Al Franken book (Lies… or The Truth… With Jokes in particular). Now imagine it not at all humorous, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what The Assault on Reason is like. I can’t really fault it on technical merits, but it’s short on style and tends to lose steam quickly, and you’re left with a scathing criticism that approaches jingoism and repetition.
Bill of Wrongs When Molly Ivins passed away last year, I realized that I knew her only by a very vague name association (I’d seen her name on a couple of anti-Bush books) and the commentary she did for a documentary about purchasing (illegal) dildos in Texas: funny stuff, even if hearing steadfast liberalism with a Texas twang evoked not a little cognitive dissonance in me.
Ivins last book, published posthumously, is mostly a defense of the Bill of Rights, which she says is the only part of the Constitution that she believes in with religious zeal. Ivins has long been a proponent of civil rights, especially free speech, and a critic of the Bush administration in part due to its abuses of those civil rights, regardless of what Dick Cheney has to say. Bill of Wrongs deals largely with the first—
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
—and then with the middle three, which all kind of go together—
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.
No person shall be held to answer for any capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a Grand Jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the Militia, when in actual service in time of War or public danger; nor shall any person be subject for the same offence to be twice put in jeopardy of life or limb; nor shall be compelled in any criminal case to be a witness against himself, nor be deprived of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor shall private property be taken for public use, without just compensation.
In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district where in the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.
Ivins (and Dubose) focus the first half of the book on instances, generally, where a protester—usually someone wearing an anti-Bush t-shirt at a pro-Bush rally, is arrested and forcibly removed from the event, even though their peaceful protest is a protected first amendment right. Galling, too, is that these people are often never actually charged with anything, but instead released as soon as the event is over and the president and his security staff leave town. The Secret Service leave the arrest and detention up to whatever local police official is there—Ivins refers to he/she as a “Barney Fife”—so that it’s the town’s problem instead of the White House’s problem. In this way, the administration is crassly abusing the system to avoid public criticism.
The part having to do with searches and seizures, and the right of the accused, focused on cases involving citizens who found themselves in court, attempting to defend themselves, without ever even know what the charges against them were. Cases of illegal searches by the FBI, and other such abuses of power.
Ivins also, inexplicably, spends a good deal of time over the Intelligent Design case in Dover, Pennsylvania, although how that quite fits into federal abuse of civil rights, I’m not entirely sure.
My problem with the book is this: it essentially just describes a series of court cases, with an occasional snarky Ivins comment thrown in for good measure. Something about this tended to leave me cold, as it felt less like Ivins was arguing something and more like she was merely describing. I get that the crassness of these cases is supposed to lead to a self-evident argument, but I couldn’t help but feel as though there was something seriously lacking in the book. As though it was compiled from notes, rather than written with intent.