Is 'American Idol' on tonight?

Ah, Americans. Quo vadis?

Meanwhile, here's a great Huffington Post piece, where the energy proposals in the SOTU speech are tweezed apart and revealed as the deceptive pandering that we've come to expect from Chimpy and the Brain.

Me, compulsive?

It may not surprise you to know that I have been maintaining an Excel file of all the computers I have ever owned, along with their specs. (Actually, it probably started out as a ClarisWorks spreadsheet, when I was running an Atari ST under Macintosh emulation, but that's another story.)

At this point, I am up to 21 desktops (and 2 laptops), starting from my first computer, a TS-1000 (Timex/Sinclair), that came with 2 K of memory (upgrading it to 16 K was a big deal, and only cost $50).

Today, I added in the info for my new (used) PC (which, today, I upgraded from 256 MB of RAM to 512 MB, for $10 - thanks again, craigslist). Here are a couple of charts:

Things were apparently stastically relatively static until computer #17, in 1997. Since then, the curve sort of matches Al Gore's chart of CO2 emissions in the last 20 years.

mom and Microsoft doing better

Will be released from the hospital today - seems to have stabilized, but, of course, the underlying problems remain. I will be there in Wisconsin in a couple of weeks.

Went to the Vista/Office 2007 launch event in downtown Portland, the other day. I have to admit that Vista has a lot of flashy features (thanks, Apple!), but I didn't see anything that I desperately need for development. They did hand out CDs with keys to obtain (free) Office 2007 and Groove 2007.

If you upgrade to this new version of Groove, you have to do it on all computers on which you have Groove accounts, and since I depend on this product so much, I am reluctant to proceed. Likewise with Office 2007 - something tells me that waiting for the next rev might be a good idea, given Microsoft's track record.

Meanwhile, my old Enron buddies are in Florida this week, at Lotusphere. This used to be an annual pilgrimage for me, too, back in the days when I was a Notes guy. I kinda miss that scene - it was always a lot of fun, and very inspiring. I remember, one time back in the 90's, when I was heavily involved with cc:Mail, that I was eating breakfast in the big tent when a guy came by and asked if the empty seat at the table was available. It was, and he turned out to be the guy who wrote cc:Mail (whose name I now forget).

Also, there were some amazing parties - never had I seen so many socially-backward people trying to look sober.

Work demands are light these days - waiting for folks to make decisions. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to have a real job - seems like a long time ago.

worried about Mom

News from Wisconsin is not good. Heard from my brother a half-hour ago.

My 93 year-old mother is in the hospital, with significant kidney and heart problems. He mentioned a couple of other problems, that have been increasing over the last week, so I was not totally unprepared for this.

I was planning on heading there in a couple of weeks for her birthday, but may need to fly east sooner. My brother will let me know tomorrow how things are looking.

This was an abrupt change of my mood for the day, which was going pretty well as I am quickly moving my entire development world over to the new PC I bought the other day. It's noticeably faster and better, and USB 2.0 (among the chief reasons for upgrading), makes a REAL difference. Still, it's hard to enjoy completing this task, with this afternoon's news.

Borat

Karen and I went to see it last night. Haven't laughed so hard at a movie since 'Dodgeball'. Actually, never saw 'Dodgeball', but thought it would be funny.

My main desktop PC, in just-about-constant use for over 2 years, has been showing odd hardware problems (up to three separate oddities) over the past couple of months, so I figured it was time to leisurely plan a replacement - never a pleasant task.

Out to craisglist, and, of course, it comes thru again. Purchased a Slim-line Dell (i.e. it's REALLY slim) - 2.4 Ghz, 256 MB RAM (I plan to upgrade to 512), and a 40 GB hard drive (I'm only using 20 on my current 80), for $160. Seemed like a fair deal.

While contemplating how I was going to move my files over, I realized that my 512 MB USB jump drive (which doubles as an MP3 player), is barely adequate, and Karen was hinting that she'd like a second jump drive (I bought her a 1 GB, that she uses for work backups).

Again, off to craigslist - I plan to meet a guy over on the East side later this morning - he has a couple of 1 GB and 2 GB jump drives. One of them is U3 compatible, which, I understand, is some new-fangled system for carrying an entire PC environment, with applications, etc., on a jump drive - for folks who travel from PC to PC, want their entire digital world with them (with passwords, etc), without leaving any trace on the host machine. That sounds great, but I'd hate to have that much confidential information on something that could fall out of a shirt pocket.

Back to Borat - I have to envy the guy's courage, and can't imagine why Pamela Anderson didn't press charges. She must have a very big set of scruples.

MadMarine, still out there?

In case you are still asserting that there's significant doubt that Human Activity is the major factor in Global Climate Change, we have this today.

I know, just another Liberal lie, perpetrated by people like Al Gore, who are 'profiting handsomely' from trying to scare us.

must read on 'why we fight'

http://www.alternet.org/envirohealth/46838/

Here's a quote:

"The most significant expression of [the rise of 'Energy-Based Fascism'] has been the transformation of the U.S. military into a global oil-protection service."

wtf ?????

Apparently, the Bush Administration (R - Totally Evil) is requesting the resignations of a bunch of US attorneys, so that, under an 'obscure' provision of the 'Patriot Act' (sic), they can appoint new folks without any congressional oversight.

Here's Dianne Feinstein discussing this outrage. The lights are going out all over America.

Meanwhile, there's this little tidbit. Virginia legislator Frank D. Hargrove (R - Totally Insane), responding to a motion asking Virginia to apologize to blacks for slavery, asks: “Are we going to force the Jews to apologize for killing Christ?”

How many times do I have to say "I'm sorry"? Isn't it enough that I can't ever watch "Ben Hur" without feeling personally responsible?

wonderland

8 am in Portland, and snowing hard. Looking out the window at the scene.

At times like this, with the kettle about to start whistling, and me dressed in comfortable old clothes, and my DSL working great, that I am grateful beyond words, that I am out of the Corporate world.

I have a bit of programming to do on my two main projects today, and some research on another. I don't need to drive anywhere or comb my rapidly-thinning hair.

The dog and cats have been outside to frolic, and are now equally happy to be inside, looking out the window, too.

The snow is hypnotic. Coffee is about 2 minutes away.

conspiracies

There's talk on the internets about E. Howard Hunt's new book, where he apparently tries to link LBJ with the assassination of JFK. Reading the comments, it's clear that, even after over 40 years, folks are still trying to draw connections contrary to the 'official' story.

This is proper, any time the Official Story contains elements that call for a leap of faith (the resurrection of Jesus comes to mind).

In that light, I am currently reading the granddaddy of all 9/11 Conspiracy books, Mike Ruppert's "Crossing the Rubicon." Dismissed as a kook by respected folks on the Left (like The Nation's David Corn), I am finding it hard to shrug off the main assertions:

1) The CIA and Wall Street are run by the same people, who have been operating drug-smuggling and money-laundering for years, to supplement their 'legitimate' businesses.

2) The Mafia has infiltrated the CIA (or is it the other way around)?

3) The Petroleum monopolies are running everything in the world, are totally aware of Peak Oil, and all US foreign policy can be understood from this perspective.

4) The People-In-Charge (hint: not Bush, although the Bush and BinLaden families are both totally enmeshed in the Power Elite) are aware that, in order for humans to continue to inhabit the Earth, 4 billion out of the current 6 billion of us must die.

5) Osama Bin Ladin is a CIA operative, and is carrying out his assignments perfectly.

6) The Brown and Root/Halliburton/Cheney/Texas-oil/LBJ/Bush/BinLadin/CIA/Mafia Axis of Evil has looted TRILLIONS of our dollars, and they want the rest, too.

7) The inevitable conclusion: 9/11 happened with the total collusion of the CIA (i.e. Cheney), and all the Insider trading in airline options immediately before the events shows that there was widespread foreknowledge of the attacks.

8) The Official 9/11 Commission report ranks with the Warren Commission in its degree of evidence suppression, distortion, and outright deception.


There's much, much more, of course - this is a very thick book, and I'm only half-way thru.

What to think? I've always believed that you judge the validity of any theory based on the number of previously-unexplained 'oddities' that it clearly explains.

From the perspective offered in this book, stuff that the Bush Administration does that makes you normally say "it doesn't make any sense" makes perfect sense.

From the perspective offered in this book, the Bush Administration is the MOST SUCCESSFUL in US history, in pursuing its goals. The problem, of course, is that its goals appear to be permanent war, permanent profits, permanent chaos, and lots and lots (billions would be great) of Dead People.

God Bless America.

as promised...

cats

Last night, Karen and I drove to Sheridan (out past McMinnville) to look at a pair of cats offered for free on craigslist. Apparently, they had been abandoned by a neighbor, and taken in by this woman who already had a dog and four cats, and was going broke feeding both all the animals and her two teenage sons.

After playing with them for 10 minutes, we said 'what the heck' and took them. They spent the night in our bedroom, wandering around, getting familiar with the room and with us. It was great to have felines around again.

When we got home, we rushed to set up the litter box and cat bowls again. Karen said "I can only find one cat bowl." I remembered where the other one was, and walked outside, to the Pet Cemetery corner of our yard, and retrieved the other bowl from its place, on top of Maisie's grave. It gave me a chance to say, once again, "good kitty."

Will take some pictures later.

Cruisin' with Jews

A frosty Sunday morning in Portland. 34 degrees and clear. I walk around the neighborhood with my dog. It is very quiet - most folks are probably still in bed.

Dylan and I arrived home last night, tired from 12 hours of travelling. It was a fine vacation, full of indulgence and a few genuine laughs.

The first day, in Pasadena, I spent in bed, coughing, sniffling, sleeping, and blowing my nose. It must have been time well spent, since I felt noticeably better the next day, when we drove to San Diego.

The check-in process at the cruise terminal went quickly, and there we were, on board a 12 story floating hotel with 1800 guests and 800 staff. As we enjoyed our first drink, the ship pulled out of the harbor and San Diego shrank into a line of twinkling lights. There were 14 in our group, covering all major age categories from 12 to 95.

We spent two days at sea, getting familiar with the ship layout and giving in to the enforced over-eating, before arriving in Puerto Vallarta early the third morning. This period was the final run-up to Christmas, and the incessant Christmas music on the loud-speakers was really getting to me. After all, when you're hearing 'Jingle Bell Rock' for the 5th time in one day, while trying to read and enjoy the sun on the pool deck, one's teeth begin to grind.

The morning after Christmas, I was out on deck, and 'White Christmas' started playing again. I marched down to the Main Desk and reminded them that it was time to change the music. The lady there shrugged helplessly, and it was not until the next day that I realized that we had finally returned to the classic Ship music: Bob Marley, the Beach Boys, and 'Margaritaville'. What a relief.

In Puerto Vallarta, Karen, Dylan and I had signed up for a shore excursion, and were led thru the process of getting off the boat and connected with the group. We were driven in a bus to a country hamlet north of town. As we headed out, the bus-guy-with-the-mike said, "on your right, you see the US embassy." It was a Wal*Mart. I liked that.

A bit later, after we hit the boonies, he said we were about to pass an exclusive condo community, where they specialize in aroma therapy. It was a prison. Mexican humor.

We parked at what looked suspiciously like a tourist-trap (later confirmed) where, after a brief orientation, we headed out for a morning hike in the Sierra Madre foothills surrounding the town.

It was actually somewhat strenuous at the outset, climbing a steep hillside. The guide was a 'rah-rah' kind of tour leader, and Karen detested his enthusiasm. The trail wound up to and around a ridge, with more ups and downs. At one point, we had a brief view of a lovely valley, but the leader pressed us onward. He was pretty good about pointing out the local medicinal plants and trees, which was interesting, and seemed to know his stuff, then hurried us along.

After an hour or so of hiking, we descended steeply into a lush river valley, where we had a few minutes to dangle our feet in a pretty enclosure of warm, volcanic-heated water, before walking back, along the river, to a truck which took us back to the tourist-trap. It was a nice hike - great to stretch those leg muscles, walk thru the dense foliage, and breath the clean air.

The guide had urged us to keep up a brisk pace on the hike, saying that we'd probably have 10 minutes before getting back on the bus to return to the cruise terminal, but those 10 minutes extended into a couple of hours. They did have a cantina there, with real mexican ladies making real mexican tortillas, and the lunch that was served us was actually terrific: imagine four delicious chicken tacos, with peppers, homemade salsas, guacamole, and beans, plus two cokes (Karen and Dylan) and two beers (me) - all for $5.

After that nice lunch, we obviously had plenty of time to visit the many craft and trinket booths. Karen bought some cool stuff while Dylan moped (he didn't enjoy the hike) and I listened to the three-man mariachi band hoping to get some tips. It was two young guys (guitar and bass) and an older guy (alto sax) - a somewhat unusual combination. Their first couple of tunes were standard mexican cliches, but I couldn't help noticing that the sax player was contributing some very creative and thoughtful licks - quite a bit more musically sophisticated than what the others were playing.

They took a break and, after a short pause, the sax player picked up his horn and, seemingly out of nowhere, played, as a solo, the lovely old jazz standard "Poor Butterfly." It was gorgeous and moving, and I doubt anyone there appreciated it as I did. I was happy to deposit a couple of bucks in the tip jar, before they nodded and moved on. This was a real unexpected pleasure.

Back at the boat dock, Dylan decided he'd seen enough of Mexico for one day, and returned to the ship. Karen and I grabbed a taxi and headed into Puerto Vallarta. We have been there twice before - once, I believe, even before we were married - certainly before Ben was born. I had the driver drop us off at the little zocolo in front of the cathedral, and instantly remembered having been there, many years before, eating an ice cream by the large iron bandstand in the center of the square.

The two of us browsed around the neighborhood, without any particular goal. It was hot but not humid, and great to be there, surrounded by the many sights of a mexican town. As we crossed the foot-bridge over the river, we spotted Karen's aunt and cousin strolling towards us. It was nice to see familiar faces, and we spent the rest of the afternoon with them, the four of us enjoying the archeological museum and shops on the island (which was certainly not that developed and pleasant 20 years ago). Eventually, it was Happy Hour and we found a quiet, riverside bar, where Rion and I had mango margaritas. It was genuinely splendid being there.

Soon, though, it was time to head back to the ship. We found the bus stop, then the correct bus, as it made its way thru the very noisy, crowded streets. So, it cost Karen and me $9 to take a cab from the ship into town, and the four of us about $2 to take the bus back.

A half-hour later, we were back in Luxury Land, watching the golden glow of the late afternoon sun on the hills behind town, and get ready for yet another massive dinner, with the rest of the cruise community. Nice day.

The next morning, we woke up docked at Mazatlan. It's always amazing how this happens. Rion and I were up early, and felt ready to get going into town. I left Karen a note, saying that we would try to be at the Plaza Machado at noon, then the two of us headed off.

It was early morning in a real working mexican city. Our immediate goal was the looming Pacifico brewery, to see if we could get in a tour. It was a long walk, but pleasant, and we eventually approached a line of American tourists, by the door. Alas, we were informed that their rules prohibited shorts, backpacks, and several other things that we had with us, so no tour for us. Rion was disappointed, since this was one of his goals for the day.

Instead, we headed into the old part of town, to the large public market, which was by then humming with morning business. The fruit and vegetable stands were colorful and attractive, but I was there to see meat, and I was not disappointed. There were entire carcasses, in various stages of dismemberment. There were skinned cow heads, pig heads, and piles of animal parts that I could not recognize. There is nothing in the world like a Mexican meat market. I took some photos, but haven't yet had the stomach to view them.

The cathedral was just a couple of blocks away and we headed there, although I was certain that we would not be permitted to enter, dressed casually as we were. Surprisingly, I was only admonished to remove my cap, and we joined the throngs of worshipers and tourists, inside the cavernous, lavishly decorated church. Mexico never fails to surprise: shorts were OK in God's house, but not in the brewery.

The morning was advancing. We found the Plaza Machado, surrounded by restored 19-century buildings, with ornate metal-work. One of the guidebooks I had consulted recommended it as nice place to sit.

It was just a few blocks to the ocean, and on the way there, there was supposed to be an Archeological museum. It was, alas, closed, but we did check out an adjacent art-gallery, with a small, curious, exhibit of mostly-modern stuff, many pieces with religious symbols (after all, this was Mexico).

A nearby Internet cafe provided a chance to check email and dash off short notes to various family and friends back home. It was just over a dollar for an hour of time - a real bargain after using the .55/minute ship Internet.

Back at the Plaza Machado, I pulled out my book and spent a quiet 45 minutes reading and people-watching, before I was joined by a bunch of family members, including Karen and Dylan.
Enough of us were hungry to make lunch a priority, so we headed back to the waterfront, where we found outdoor seating at 'El Shrimp Bucket' (est. 1963). It was a gorgeous day, and we savored the breeze, the ocean views, and the wonderful ceviche, fish tacos, tortilla soup, and several beers.

Dylan and Leah headed to the beach, while Karen and I did a little more sightseeing before returning to the beach. We played there in the waves and sand for a while, but soon it was time to head back to the ship. We hailed a passing tourist-truck, negotiated a price ($5) and he drove us back to the terminal.

A great day in Mazatlan. We had been there many years ago, but had, inexplicably, never seen the old part of town. This was turning into a great vacation.

The next morning, we were docked at Cabo San Lucas. However, due to engine trouble on the boat, they had drastically shortened our time ashore to a measly 4 hours. Karen and I walked very slowly with Sylvia, Karen's 95 year-old Mom, and didn't cover a lot of ground before we all headed back. Dylan, however, spent the morning sleeping late and watching TV in his room, which makes my son able to truthfully state that he's probably the only American who has visited Cabo San Lucas twice, without ever actually seeing it (the first time we were there, 19 years ago, he was still a fetus).

After leaving Cabo at mid-day on Thursday, we had the rest of that day and all day Friday on the boat, slowly making our way back to San Diego, where we docked early Saturday morning (was that just yesterday?). There were the usual dinners, chance encounters with family members, spectacular sunsets, cheesy ship activities (our family team was 2nd in the final, fiercely-competitive Team Trivia challenge), and simple lie-in-the-sun-and-do-nothing on the Aft pool deck.

Cruising is certainly a comfortable, odd way to spend a vacation. It's absurd, articifical, and horribly wasteful in terms of food and energy. In the future, people may look back on this institution, and shake their heads in total bewilderment. It would only increase that sense of unreality if they were to witness, on the next-t0-last-night, the Parade of Baked Alaskas, each with a lit sparkler.

Saturday morning, the process to get off the boat went very quickly, and the Customs folks simply collected our standard one-per-family form before waving us thru - no passport check or anything resembling identity-verification. We got back to where we parked the cars, drove to Pasadena, and, an hour later, Karen drove Dylan and me to the Burbank airport. She is staying there, helping her Mom, until tomorrow afternoon.

Dylan and I got home around 8:30 pm, and the dog was overjoyed at our return. After a couple of hours, Dylan announced he was heading off, and I don't expect to see him until tomorrow afternoon (just talked to him on the phone).

Today, I have had the entire place to myself (and the dog). We took two walks in the neighborhood, I did a little cooking and a lot of laundry and reading. It's New Years Eve, and the plans we had to get together with friends fell thru, so it's pretty quiet. I have to go to the airport in an hour, to pick up my neice, Leah, then return home for a quiet, solo evening.

So, having completed my third cruise, how do I feel about it? I admit that I've always been pleased to talk disparagingly about this form of vacation, as totally artificial, self-indulgent, and resource-wasteful. It is all these things, but, I have to say, it was a fun week, with a lot of laughs, great sights (both sailing and at the ports-of-call), and family fun.

However, one of my long-standing fantasies was shattered. I have always thought that being the piano-player on a cruise-ship would be a great life. You get to play for people who have been drinking for days and enjoy the air and sights of ocean travel. What could be better?

Well, one night toward the end of the cruise, Dylan and I found ourselves in one of the lavish lounges around 10:30 pm. It was mostly deserted, except for the piano-player, who was pounding out Beatle songs. Soon, he took a break, stepped away from the (digital) piano, turned on the recorded music, and walked off. I approached and asked if I could play a little, and he said (with a thick Russian accent) 'sure.' I played a few bars of 'Cheek to Cheek', and he came over.

"This piano is shit," he sneered, "I hate it." This was my opportunity to find out how wonderful his job was, so I asked a few questions. Turns out that he has to play 5 hours a day, mostly in that one lounge. He repeated that he hated this piano, that it sounded awful. I asked him if he was free to play whatever he wanted, and he said 'yes', but that the guests always asked him to play the same five tunes, the most-frequent being 'As Time Goes By.' "I hate it," he said, again and again.

I asked him how often he got off the boat and he looked at me as if I was crazy. After a little more of this, we left him, an angry, frustrated prisoner of the cruise-line. It was a revelation.

The next night, Karen and I strolled past the midnight dessert buffet (an amazing assortment of goodies, with chocolate fountains, ice sculptures, butter sculptures, etc). Over in the corner, I saw the same piano player, at another electronic keyboard. He played 'Killing Me Softly with his Song', and the sound quality was awful. Then, there was a fanfare, and the announcer made a big announcement, about all the chefs and the goodies they had created, and how wonderful everything was. There was a smattering of applause, before the crowd returned to attacking the trays.

There was a brief pause, and then the piano-player launched into 'As Time Goes By.' Karen and I passed him on the way out. He and I made eye-contact and I know he recognized me from our chat the prior evening, as he nodded, as if to say "I know you understand what I'm going thru".

There was hopelessness on his face, as we left the area.


Time to head for the airport. Happy New Year, everybody.

back home

Dylan and I arrived back at PDX last night. Karen decided to stay in Pasadena for a couple more days, to help out at her Mom's.

It's New Years Eve. Big Deal.

The cruise was actually mostly fun - will write some anecdotes one of these days. After 10 days of concerted family/group activities, it has been great today to have the whole house to myself (and the dog), reading, snoozing, doing laundry, etc.

It's now about 4 pm. I have another 4 hours before I need to leap into action.

off we go

Heading to the airport in less than an hour. We fly to Pasadena tonight, then drive to San Diego Saturday, for the week-long cruise to some Mexican ports-of-call. It should be totally surreal.

There are a dozen family members, from 12 to 95, in our group. Fortunately, it's a pretty genial bunch.

It will definitely be a break from the Oregon death-news and rain.

We hope. Happy Solstice, everyone.

Improving on Tom McCall

Governor McCall, you may remember, is noted primarily (and incorrectly) for his famous 1970's exhortation "Come to Oregon to visit, but don't move here".

Between our reputation for Assisted Suicide and the current wilderness catastrophes, it could be ammended, for maximum impact, to "Come to Oregon, and Die here."

Mt. Hood was looking gloriously beautiful this morning, as I took the recycling out to the street. A band of color lay above its snowy, deadly crest. It's darn cold here in Portland - it must be amazingly inhospitable up there.


Meeting with a client this morning, to discuss upcoming work, then I have a concert with the Jewish Old Folks chorus (visiting another facility) this afternoon. Tomorrow, another concert with the same group, at their own facility. 'Tis the season.

At some point, today or tomorrow, I will pull out my large travel bag - the one I need to use when I'm taking more shoes and better clothes than my usual stuff. We leave Thursday night for our California/Mexico trip.

Who Killed James Kim, the next chapter

Well, well, well - now it turns out that the story about vandals who broke the lock on the gate to that road was a fabrication. I apologize for insinuating that beer-drinking yahoos ought to be blamed for this.

It was the local authorities who had neglected to secure the gate. Was it carelessness, or simply a low priority, due to other concerns? We need to know.

Meanwhile, up on Mt. Hood, the families of the lost hikers are still putting a brave face on things, but, now that they've been out there for a week, and with a record-breaking storm about to hit in a few hours, things are not looking good.

Finally, on Thom Hartmann's radio show this morning, there was an Islamist scholar discussing the distribution of Sunni and Shia throughout the middle east. Everyone knows that the Saudi royal family is Sunni - that's no secret - but did you know that the majority of the population is Shia? That was news to me. Given the long-suppressed hostility towards the royals in that country, it's easy to visualize a coup that would institute yet another Shia government.

Another surprise - Syria, Iran's closest buddy in the area, is predominantly Sunni, not, as I would have expected, Shia. I supposed that makes sense, since, after all, Damascus was the original Islamic center, before Bagdhad was even founded.

It's a complicated world out there, and a stormy one, too. Karen, unfortunately, had to drive to Eugene for a hearing this morning - she just left the house a half-hour ago. Later this afternoon, when the wind and rain really hits, she will be driving back to Portland. Fortunately, she took my Subaru, which has better tires and traction than her Matrix. It will be a relief to see her arrive safely, late this afternoon.

Yikes - getting weird in Mexico

We are heading there next week, so it's a little alarming to read this.

wow

This. The money quote:

"...the appalling, unnecessary calamity of George W. Bush's presidency".

Juan Cole today

Go read his December 13th piece. He discusses the emerging alliance allignments in the Middle East, which, from his perspective, have Israel, Jordan, the 'official' Lebanon government, and Saudi Arabia allied against Iran, Syria, and the Hezbollah faction in Lebanon, with the Iraq Civil War being the battle-ground where the conflict is playing out.

The notion of the Jewish State allied with the most repressive, right-wing, Islamic fundamentalist regime in the area is mind-boggling, and the US occupation of Iraq was the catalyst for this whole mess.

But I thought the whole 'project' was going to be a cakewalk.