CAIRO — The Arab League secretary general, Amr Moussa, deplored the broad scope of the U.S.-European bombing campaign in Libya and said Sunday that he would call a league meeting to reconsider Arab approval of the Western military intervention.

Moussa said the Arab League’s approval of a no-fly zone on March 12 was based on a desire to prevent Moammar Gaddafi’s air force from attacking civilians and was not designed to endorse the intense bombing and missile attacks — including on Tripoli, the capital, and on Libyan ground forces — whose images have filled Arab television screens for two days.

What the fuck do you think a “no fly” zone is? Hint: it’s not maintained by a little old lady in crossing guard outfit telling Khaddafi’s planes they’ll just have to go fly elsewhere.

The Arab League, which called for the no-fly zone, needs to shut the fuck up too. You bought it, you own it.

Truth be told, i only started pomping my hair when I joined the Super Devils, since it looked a little weird for two band members to be sporting the pomp while one guy looked like a retired jarhead. But in the months since… well, I have to admit it’s fun to load my hair up with a bunch of scented petroleum jelly, and then comb it into some gravity defying style. And the shit stays in too: pomade applied on Sunday night will keep my hair up well into Tuesday, even after shampooing. I start out as Elvis, work my way down to Don Draper, and then with a few fingerfuls of Murray’s Superior, I’m Elvis again.

That is all.

I’m really happy to have been wrong. Sometimes, there IS justice.

(tags tomorrow, I’m posting from an iPod).

Also, I am convinced Dillon and Troy are the inspiration for SNL’s Ambiguously Gay Duo.

Updated with footage: if you can get past acting so wooden you’d think the roles were played by marionettes, check out Galactica’s Dillon and Troy:

and compare them with Ace and Gary:

hey Barack, that’s you when you wanted to be president, talking about the injustices your dying mom faced as a cancer patient. here’s what you said:

In those last painful months, she was more worried about paying her medical bills than getting well

That’s why so many people believed in you and voted for you. They believed you.

And ya know, it’s shitty to throw civil libertarians under the bus for political expedience, but I get it (in theory). You wanted to convince people who are worried about national security that you’d be relentless about preventing more attacks on Americans, so bring on the warrantless wiretapping.

And you wanted to keep those sane conservatives who’ve turned on Bush but think we should brush all the crimes under the rug, so let’s expand that state secrets crapola. I get it, even if I don’t like it.

And I can, sort of if I stick my head all the way up my asshole, see your rationale with Guantanamo. Not that I agree with it, but I can kinda see the bind you’re in with the turd Bush left you: even innocent people, when tortured enough, will harbor a vendetta against the US and may bite us in the ass. You don’t want to be the guy that sets free the next terrorist to blow up an American.

And while I don’t agree with you AT ALL, I can convince myself that you personally think that fulfilling your promises to gay people, allowing them to serve openly and marry each other, would drag down the party with military voters and homophobes. I think that’s a shitty way to look at it, but I can see how in the world of crass politicking, you’d make that decision.

But dude, using your dead mom as a meaningless campaign prop? THAT IS DESPICABLE. THAT IS THE LOWEST OF THE LOW.

also from cbl

I’ve been off the internet since Friday morning, when Sam and I left for the 2009 Wind Gap Bluegrass Festival, which is about when my camera decided it wanted to die. So I don’t have much of anything other than shots my buddy Nik took.

Last week, i dropped a few more bucks than i wanted to on a new tent: the $79.00 model was out of stock, so I grabbed a giant that promised to sleep 9: that’s room for me, my kid and girlfriend (who didn’t make it this time), and my bass and guitar. Plus, the tent had a nifty closet space set aside where we could store all our clothes.

Unfortunately, the poor prisoner of the Chinese slave labor camp tasked with making my tent must have been having a bad day: one of the four tent poles didn’t match its mate, and as a result the rain fly didn’t fit properly. The tent was big enough to keep Sam out of the line of fire, but once the rain came down (as it did, in buckets, on Saturday morning and Saturday night), everything else got soaked and filled with mud.

We also ended up at a new campsite than the one we’ve occupied for the past five or six years. The old site was just north of the little creek that winds through Mountain View Park. It’s convenient to our Grillbilly family, but has the disadvantage of being the direct glare of the morning sun. When you’ve been up all night playing music and swilling beer, that’s a recipe for a dehydration headache and a wicked hangover.

This year, that area was taken up, forcing us across the stream where I think I may have found a much better site. We were still along the creek, but sheltered from the sun (and some of the rain) by tall trees. Because of the rain, we had to navigate around a moat, but we were on high ground: our roof may have leaked, but nothing came up through the floor. One of the reasons we camp with the Grillbillies is because of the cooking, but our new neighbors were no no pikers in the area either. Together, we served up heaping piles of steak, salad, pretty much anything you could wrap your mouth around. [If my camera hadn't died, this is where'd you see photos of Jay, Liz, Dave, Lauren, and the rest.]

As usual, I didn’t see any of the bands (although I REALLY wanted to check out Larry Gillis’s show). Sam has a hard time sitting through entire sets of music, and he’s still a little too young for me to let him run free. That said, I tried my best to do a balancing act between “good dad who lets his growing son have some unsupervised freedom” and “bad dad whose kid hurt himself”. Basically, I allowed him to play in the shallow end of the creek with the kids from the Doerfel Family, who were building a dam, without hovering over him like a helicopter.

Sam also got a chance to pick with grownups: I finally got his banjo set up a few weeks ago, and even though it’s a little big for him, my friend Michele showed him how to sit it in his lap and strum it properly. We picked a bit through a few basic songs that didn’t require him to fret the notes, and for a 5-year-old who’s never played before, he wasn’t half bad! He got into the spirit a bit later as well with Ian and Eric, two friends of mine from Philly who came up for the weekend. Later he told me he’s going to practice his banjo so he can play at OATS next month.

Eric

Ian

Friday was a beautiful day, but when the rain came on Saturday, it was relentless. Mud everywhere, rain coming down so thick you couldn’t even see where you were going. I finally found my guys under a huge tarp up the hill, where i could see my tent and get back to it in case Sam had any trouble.

He didn’t of course. The kid could sleep through an atomic bomb.

here’s me, looking none the worse for wear after 3 days in the woods.

The first few are from the Franklin Institute

Inside the Giant Heart

The Franklin has an IMAX theatre, and was showing something about bugs in 3D.

We made some pizza…

…and then we made pizza in another dimension.

The following shots are from our trip down to the Mummer’s Parade (ray has better shots at flickr, don’t steal his stuff).

On the trolley. Sam looks cute. I look sort of like Popeye.

The tongue cracks me up.

Waiting for the Broad Street Subway

It was REALLY cold on New Year’s Day.

Elliott was particularly miserable. I can’t blame him, i was cold too!

…I’ll post more later as I get ‘em.