Last night's Presidential Address

Some questions for Karen Hughes (Communication Genius):

1. Regarding "homesteading": A. Wasn't that a policy from the 19th Century? B. You've had two weeks to come up with some kick ass stuff and you settled on that? C. Aren't some folks still waiting for their 40 acres and a Mule?

2. What was the point of that backdrop? Beacon of hope? Why not have the Pres stand in front of a group of evacuees in the AstroDome and explain these new policies?

3. Let's go with the blue, open collared shirt -- it'll make him look more "folksy" and "rollin up his sleeves." Right, except it was starched and unwrinkled. If you're going to go for "unpresidential" you may as well go all the way and throw on a bloody v-neck t-shirt.

4. What if I'm an insurance company. What if you are a resident of New Orleans. Your home is rebuilt, again. And it sits below sea level, again. Can I not insure you? Will the government make me? Does someone living in Ohio pay higher premiums to insure your below-sea-level house?

Discuss.
Hughes, I'll wait for your phone call and answers...

Who Killed Cicero?

Let's face it, public speaking is a lost art.

This was painfully obvious yesterday during the Senate Confirmation Hearings for Judge John Roberts. As they fought their way through prepared remarks, most of the Senators looked wooden, disingenuous, and uncharismatic.

Then Roberts gave his opening statement.

He looked directly at each Senator. He delivered his remarks with appropriate tone, rhythm, and pace. And, most importantly, he did it all extemporaneously! Not once did Roberts look down to find his place, or read a quote. He had practiced his speech and then just delivered it: flawlessly.

Roberts hadn't memorized his remarks. It all sounded natural and, frankly, beautiful. You may differ with the nominee in judicial policy or party affiliation, but you can't knock his speaking skillz.

It isn't that Roberts is handsome, young, and well-spoken (in the pedestrian sense of the phrase). He is. But that's not why he will sail through the committee. He seems genuine and honest because he knows how to address a crowd. He looks people in the eye and, without a stumble or a smirk, he eloquently tells them what he thinks and why. Now a days, that's rare.

We should treasure such a rarity. I'm very much looking forward to the rest of the hearings -- not to hear Roberts' responses to tough questions -- but just to hear someone respond, with rhetorical elegance.

"Let arms give place to the robe, and the laurel of the warriors yield to the tongue of the orator."

--Cicero

Living in Your Head

Do you have that time of day when you just kind of zone out? You know, you're just lost in thought, maybe talking aloud to yourself, oblivious to what you're actually doing?

For me, that time of day is in the morning. I'm walking around my apartment, getting ready for work, eating breakfast, grooming. My mind isn't really on what I'm doing. Maybe I'll put the orange juice in the microwave instead of the fridge -- because, hey, I'm holding orange juice, but I'm really thinking about making oatmeal. Know what I'm saying?

Sometimes I'll talk to myself. It may be unintelligible. It may be completely intelligible.

Today, I was in the bathroom, and I had just looked at my fingernails. Then, I looked up -- into the mirror -- and said (to myself): "Cut your fingernails you fucking junkie."

Now, I'm no junkie. And, I don't think I've ever shook hands with a junkie, much less examined his/her fingernails. But I said what I said nonetheless. It really just popped into my head.

Strange, huh? Yeah, I thought you all should know.

Bottled Water

So I've refrained from posting about the hurricane. Alas, I cannot continue.

Here's what I don't get. Why are we stuffing people into convention centers and sports arenas? If you've kept up with the news you've heard about a little something called BRAC, which decides on the military bases that need to be closed and decommissioned. And, wouldn't you know, this commission just decided to close a bunch of bases. I'm not sure if they have been cleared out quite yet, but if you've ever been on a military base you know where I'm heading with this.

Most bases have "real" housing, supportive surrounding communities, adequate bathroom facilities, open space, and (in some cases) airstrips.

Why not put these displaced people in real houses, where kids can get out and play, where there are other buildings in which to conduct school or job training or counseling, or whatever these folks may need? Supplies could be flown or trucked in. These bases are designed to support lots of people in a living capacity -- rather than the three-hour entertainment capacity of a sports stadium.

There will be a time, very soon, when just having bottled water and a cot will not be enough. People, and rightly so, are going to want a bed, four walls, clean bathrooms, and some semblance of a future. I'm not sure the AstroDome screams hope.

I realize my idea sounds a little like the plot line from Blindness, by Jose Saramango, but I just don't think the current plan looks far enough ahead. In fact, the way we're setting up these refugee camps speaks to the overall planning and preparation for this disaster: softly and unsure, if at all.

Rawker

In this time of sadness and worry, who better than this guy to make us smile?

If you're looking for a little pick me up -- click here.

It doesn't get any worse than New Orleans.

But, it doesn't get any better than "theRawker."

Ever.