"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

Back Home?

I've been back in NYC for almost a week, a surreal time. The old hustle is still a draw, but the humidty droops me down, and I feel purpose leaking from my pores. What the city has done more than anything else, to be perfectly honest, is make me miss Sasha anew; not really a positive development. The colors of fall are coming on, and I feel like skipping town.

And the squarafication has continued apace. Out last night in once trendy Billzburg the streets were bustling, but the crowd everywhere I looked was shot through with pure Long Island. College kids with tans and khaki's out for a lark, just like the East Village was back in my day. Artist colonization led to real bohemia led to an invasion of hipsters -- the difference between a boho and a hipster is that bohos do a lot with a little, and hipsters do little with a lot -- led to a stream of adventurous students (and a lot of single guys) led to a pretty good whack of regular old NYU kids. I never liked that school's mainstream student body all that much. Don't even get me started on the Lower East Side.

I don't mean to sound bitter. Mostly it's that I'm tired, and I feel life calling me to be somewhere else. I feel like a man without a tribe at the moment, and my feet itch to leave. Am I running from things? Sure, a breakup I obviously havn't yet shaken and a sneaking sense that the soul has been drained from things. But I'm running to a lot of things as well. I'm going to California; out west where I belong; golden state; land of opportunity. I'm going out to turn people on.

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Knives Out: David Brooks Smears Dean

The Long Knives certainly are coming out against my man Dean. In today's NYT, conservative columnist David Brooks pens an artfully crafted attack at Deans base of support entitled "Bred For Power," an attempt to link Dean and Dubya on a number of points vis-a-vis their upper class backgrounds. It's quite a hack job, if I do say so myself.

First of all, like any good smear, this column contains some kernel of truth, giving the overall impression that the author is being, well, fair and balanced. Brooks is correct that Dean's family background is similar to the Bush's in WASPy stature. From this base premise, he ventures off into the attack zone.

Most egregiously, he compare's Bush's and Dean's "Prince Hal Phase's:"

Bush drank too much at country clubs. Dean got a medical deferment from Vietnam and spent his time skiing in Aspen. Both decided one night that it was time to get serious about life and give up drinking. Dean was 32; Bush was 40.

This almost offhand comparison makes it sound like Dean and Dubya have comparable young-adult biographies. Thankfully, this is easily refuted by the facts.

Howard Dean reported to a military doctor for a physical examination as required by draft law at the time of his graduation ('71) and was rejected from service, plain and simple. As a recent college grad in a disillusioned time, he went off to Aspen to ski for about a year before returning to New York to work on Wall St.

By contrast, George W Bush used family connections to get into the Texas Air Guard as a way around serving in Vietnam. He then went AWOL from his position for nearly a year after being transferred to Alabama, and has never attempted to explain that decision or account for how he spent the missing time.

Dubya was by all accounts a serious alcoholic, drunk at noon and picking fights. It's also tacitly understood that he abused cocaine for a spell. Talk to anyone on the inside during the 70s or 80s and you're bound to here some good stories. I have.

Dean by his own admission "partied pretty hard" in college, but you'd be hard-pressed to say he was at any point a drunk. Dubya dried out in a 12-step program, part of a total born-again conversion. Dean simply stopped. He says he, "didn't like who I was when I drank."

The rest of Brooks' piece is a hazy endorsement/indictment of the WASP establishment into which both Dubya and Dean were born. He links their leadership styles and boldness as being products of a privileged yet competitive upbringing, but makes few other definitive assessments. Personally, I get the sense that some part of Brooks actually admires the good doctor, or at least wishes they were on the same team.

However, there's a lot to be gleaned from the two hard biographical data points Brooks references. Dean did what was required of him with regards to service in Vietnam. Bush used family connections to get a do-nothing assignment, then ditched that responsibility too. Bush was only able to beat his drinking habit by being born again. Dean, by then a medical doctor, made a decision based on the facts.

These basic paradigmatic distinctions -- along with the fact that Dean possesses an engaging and curious intellect -- make all the difference in the world when it comes to comparing and contrasting these two men in their capacity to perform the duties of President.

One man has a long track record of taking responsibility seriously; the other has a record of dropped balls, some admitted but mostly not. One man has a fact-based outlook on life; the other takes a faith-based approach to policy. One man struck out to make his own life and his own career in a place where his family name meant little; the other partied until he was 40 then drifted into the family business, starting a pattern of cronyism that would follow him into public office.

Brooks's basic premise that both men come from privilege and were put through an educational system meant to groom them for leadership is essentially correct, but the meaningful similarities between Dean and Dubya stop there.

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The Whirlwind in the Thorn Trees

The man came around for the Man in Black. We all knew it was in the mail. Still, it highlights for me the poverty of meaningful popular culture. You look at a figure like Cash and all things current become grey, dry and insubstantial. My generation, like the one before it, seems to thrive on the trivial, a disposable culture, the cult of the new. Would we know a young Johnny Cash if he came up and played in front of our faces? Do we recognize our own authority, responsability and complicitness in the great parade of shadows that carries on for our entertainment? The culture isn't going to change itself, you know.

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We are on the move

It's a different feeling this time around, the annaversary of the national tragedy. Last time I was pretty distressed. This year, I feel like we're coming around. Which is not to say there still aren't plenty of sad notes, but the tone now is passion and progress, not mute pain and mourning.

Some people are still figuring out what a royal screwjob the post-trauma handling was. For instance, 24 months after the fact, we now know the air at ground zero was poisonous, which explains why my man Archie -- vetran NYC EMT -- at the corner bar mentioned that his lungs are fucked up the other night. Folks are starting to get a glimmer of an incling that the current national leadership might not be the best for guiding us forth from the mire we've wandered into, and I'm finding acres of purpose and a new career in helping that consciousness emerge.

So it's my hope we can figure out how to organize under a big banner of hope and community, avoid the flags of fear or anger or ego. It's going to be a challange over the next year, but I can think of no better reason for getting up early and staying up late. If we want a better tomorrow, it's going to come because we worked for it, not because someone offered it to us.

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