The News & TeleGraff

My Best Books of 2004

Since everyone else is doing it, now—in the closing hours of 2004—I wanted to share my own list of the best reading I did over the course of these many months. People who know me well will notice the addition of fiction to my list this year, because after many years of just not caring, I started reading fiction more widely over the summer (first up was Evelyn Waugh's humorous and biting "Scoop") and realized—shock of all shocks—that there's some really great fiction out there.

Anyway, here's my list:

1) "Blue Blood" - by Edward Conlon (which I successfully nominated as a Daily Dose pick at Powells.com over the summer)
2) "Benjamin Franklin" - by Walter Isaacson
3) "Bel Canto" - by Ann Patchett
4) "The Quiet American" - by Graham Greene
5) "Dispatches" - by Michael Herr
6) "The Plot Against America" - by Philip Roth
7) "Things Worth Fighting For" - by Michael Kelly
8) "Off to the Side" - by Jim Harrison
9) "Against All Enemies" - by Richard Clarke
10) "The 9/11 Commission Report"

Honorable mentions go to "Colossus," by Niall Ferguson, "The Working Poor," by David K. Shipler, and "The Republican Noise Machine," by David Brock, which all influenced my thinking this year in a lot of different ways. An honorable mention in fiction goes to "The Power and the Glory," by Graham Greene, and its unforgettable whisky priest.

As I enter 2005, I'm reading Malcolm Gladwell's new "Blink," Joseph Ellis' "His Excellency," and Stephen Greenblatt's "Will in the World." I'll have to pick up some fiction after all that.

Happy New Year's Eve and stay tuned for a report from Times Square....

A Doink Doink Salute

I'm sitting here watching Law & Order and drinking scotch (Highland Park 12) in honor of the passing of my favorite alcoholic TV detective Lennie Briscoe today. Jerry Orbach is probably one of the most recognized faces out there, and his corny wisecracks at the opening of each episode are legendary:

With his hangdog puss and loose-limbed gait, Orbach was unmatched at playing the street-smart tough guy. A quintessential New Yorker, he personified his city's well-worn but implacable edge, embodying the Big Apple like few other actors.

I've been a big fan of Law & Order for years; I've watched hundreds of episodes, and the 12-year veteran Jerry Orbach was Law & Order to me—and I know I'm not the only one, either. The Unofficial Jerry Orbach fan club home page is down today due to high traffic.

If this was your typical Law & Order episode, Lennie would have some terrible joke about his own death as he shook his head and walked away just before that canonical theme music played. Instead, I'll just say, Lennie, we'll enjoy your reruns for many years to come. I'm not entirely sure, but I'd guess there's still an episode or two out there I haven't seen.

Christmas and Peace

It's Christmas day, and here in Vermont, as always, we had a true Currier & Ives holiday: The snow falling, the fire crackling, the overly decorated tree overfilling the room. We argued this year over whether the giant tree meant more room for presents or less. I argued more. My parents argued less.

Last night, we went out to our country church and sang hymns and carols to candlelight. After caroling at a family friend's house (and snagging some cookies in return) we came home, settled in by the fire, and had a spirited reading of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas and A Child's Christmas in Wales.

This morning, as I said, we awoke to a round of snow flurries—opened a few presents, had a big breakfast, and then opened the rest. My pile at the end included numerous books, some new shirts, new silverware, and three new stock pots. In the super special category, I also received a framed painting from one of my mom's books and a dirty New York Times typesetter's apron from the days when the Times was still set in hot type.

All-in-all, it was a great and relaxing day—one I needed after a particularly rough week for a variety of reasons. Peace has been much on my mind recently both because of the seasons, but also because of some scary moments this week. The bombing of the Mosul dining hall struck the base where my best friend from high school is stationed. I nearly broke down on Tuesday when I realized that his base had been hit. He's been over there all fall (and will be for quite some time to come) and I spent time over Thanksgiving with his family and his brothers, both Army men themselves. It's been rough on the whole family, and Todd's always in our prayers.

What particularly horrified me about Tuesday was how immune I've become to the violence over there, and how I didn't even pay attention to the bombing originally—it took my mom calling with news that it struck troops from Fort Lewis for me to even think of Todd.

I fear that all over America, the same thing is happening: The violence is often enough and numbing enough that we don't pay much attention day-to-day. Even now, during the happy holidays, we can't forget that a war is on, and what that means to the millions of Americans with troops in harm's way.

God bless them and bring us peace as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas

I awoke this morning to a blanket of fresh snow outside, with the flakes still falling silently outside beyond the giant tree that decorates our house. Merry Christmas to all and deepest wishes for peace.

I'm going to go eat some cinnamon rolls and then it's time for presents...

Howard Dean, the DNC, and Shibboleth

The theme music alone this morning brought back many mixed emotions: "If it's Sunday, it's Meet the Press." I remembered 18 months ago when I first saw Tim Russert leer across the table at Howard Dean. Depending on whose version you embraced, Howard Dean either was stellar or he got torn apart. Either way, that day, I sat at my desk among the Dean for America web team and watched the dollars roll in—our best day of fundraising to date. The grassroots were incredible!

Fast forward a bit: Dean lost. Kerry lost. Bush won. And now we're trying to figure out to pick up the pieces. And Dean was back this morning, making his case to Tim Russert. I got up to watch Meet the Press today because I really have mixed feelings on this whole Dean as DNC chair thing. I watched him this morning with the same deep interest that I watched his speech last Wednesday—and both times, I agreed with just about every word. One friend and fellow Deaniac summarized Dean's speech as follows:

What he said wasn't rocket science. Stand tall for progressive values. Cultivate those values into activists and candidates in every race in every state. But he's the only one out there right now making a specific case for specific goals for the party. As Dean himself said, it's not the direction of the party that's important— it's the destination. And Dean has a vision for the destination we should be working towards.

I couldn't agree more. Just as he has for the last two years, Howard Dean has the most comprehensive and articulate vision for America and the Democratic Party that I've seen anyone offer. But, even though I'm one of the deepest Deaniacs I know, there's some hesitation in me.

I'm just not sure yet I want Howard Dean to be the chair of our Party.

My hesistation stems not from any bitterness towards the man who was my governor in Vermont for more than half my life. He is, in fact, one of my favorite people and someone I've known for a long time. I've worked with Howard Dean on and off since I started as an intern in his press office in 1995. My friend Nicco Mele may get all the credit, but I was Dean's first webmaster—on my wall hangs the newspaper article from the June 12, 1997 when I launched Dean's first website. Heck, I even have to give the governor credit for getting me into college. When he stopped by my office (next to the copier) one day to chat, and heard that I'd been deferred at my first choice college, he personally called the dean of admissions. After college, I spent eight months working on Dean for America as deputy national press secretary, most of that time sitting no more than ten feet from Joe Trippi's office. I was there for a lot of the success, many of the great screaming matches, and the bitter tears and words at the end. I mean, I've been there and done that. (As CNN documented, Trippi even crumpled up press releases I wrote and threw them at me.)

In short, Howard Dean a man with whom I'm deeply honored to be associated, and I proudly wear my Dean for America fleece all over Washington to this day.

But here's what it boils down to for me: I have complete confidence in Howard Dean's vision for the Party. I know he believes what he's saying, and that he's saying what he believes. I know we can win in all fifty states with a progressive message. I know that Howard Dean can reach deep into the red states.

Where I'm still on the fence, though, is in the implementation. The campaign failed not because of its vision, but because it failed to make hard decisions. In Iowa. In New Hampshire. In Washington. In Burlington. (Without endorsing what he did, Paul Maslin did point to some of the campaign's problems in the Atlantic this spring.)

That failure to make those hard decisions squandered one of the greatest opportunities our Party has had in a generation and left us with a weak Democratic candidate who represented few true progressives ideals. (For God's sake people, how did we expect to win when we put up a candidate against Bush who voted for the war in Iraq, voted for No Child Left Behind, voted for the Bush tax cuts, and supported the Bush budgets?)

Before I throw myself behind Howard Dean again, I want to be sure that he has a plan for implementation. I want to hear about some of the details. I want to know how Howard Dean plans to get from Point A to Point B, and who he plans to include in the Party infrastructure. Who will be his chief people within the Democratic headquarters? The chief of staff? The executive director? The finance people? The field people? Are they people who are used to making tough decisions? Are they people who know how to run a great campaign? To put it simply, if you're familiar with West Wing or the Bible, I'm waiting to hear Howard Dean say "shibboleth."

I took the last campaign on faith, and it was one of the best decisions I've ever made, but in the end, I had my heart crushed by a lack of leadership. I'm not willing to go down that road again without assurances that something will be different this time around. Neither our nation nor our Party can afford to make the same mistakes again. What will be different this time?

All that said, if Howard Dean called on me again, I'd jump at the chance to join him in stirring up the Democratic Party. Until the rising stars arrive, Dean's the best chance our Party's got. Just please don't let us down.

Reliving the Stone Wall

Standing in front of a group of twenty people assembled on folding chairs in a large green-and-white striped tent, Robert E. Lee today reminded me, "It is well that war is so terrible, lest we grow too fond of it." His speech came midway through a muddy Saturday of living history that celebrated the sights and sounds of one of the worst days of fighting ever on American soil-the 142nd anniversary of the battle of Fredericksburg. I joined my friend Andrew, and his former college roommate Ben, for the latest stop on his Civil War battlefield tour. (Proving that I not only have dorky friends but indeed work with more dorks, one of my co-workers was at the reenactment today as well.)

Fredericksburg was the site of a terrible battle in 1862 where General Ambrose Burnside had attempted to cross the Rappahannock River, and—after days of delays—finally succeeded only to battle through the town and then be repulsed in FOURTEEN charges against a Confederate-held stone wall near the sunken road at the base of Marye's Heights. Using the wall as a guard, and well-placed artillery above them on the hill, the Confederate troops slaughtered the Union troops despite being outnumbered 3 to 1. The repeated assaults were so ineffective that, even with the size differential, the Confederates never used half their available troops. Robert E. Lee's army suffered 5,300 casualties, but Burnside's men fell in twice the numbers. By the end of the fighting, 12,600 Union troops were killed, wounded, or missing—two-thirds of them fell in front of the stone wall.

Our day began, as have most days this dreary week, with lots of rain. Thankfully, it ended shortly after we arrived at the site of the reenactment, which was held on the site of George Washington's boyhood home. There was a full day of events and lots of mud. We watched infantry and artillery drills, and then watched a reenactment of the Marye's Heights engagement where the Union troops, as represented by the 28th Massachusetts Regiment, charged across a field towards the heights held by the Confederate's 47th Virginia Regiment. Both sides fired volley after volley, and predetermined casualties "fell" to mark the proportional losses on both sides (normally the troops would collapse to the ground, but today they merely kneeled to avoid the mud).

While the "battle" was supremely executed, unfortunately modern development made it appear as if the Confederates were defending a 7-Eleven and a McDonalds. I could just imagine the commanding officer at the time: "Gentlemen, our line cannot break. We must defend the McNuggets and the Slurpees to the last man."

All-in-all, the reenactors did a great job bringing the battle to life. I had expected to enjoy the event at least on a curiosity level, as I do most things historical, but it ended up being a genuinely interesting event. Watching the soldiers march, hearing the muskets fire, and feeling the boom of the powerful cannons, and listening to the songs around the campfire all made for a captivating time. As Lee warned, I could grow fond of war. We learned about marching and drills, and—in watching the troops practice drills over and over—the need for good training. We learned about which members of an artillery battery needed to be able to read and write (answer, only one), and why troops in the infantry were required to have two front teeth (to tear open powder cartridges)—if you didn't have two front teeth you had to join the artillery or the Navy. The living historians who played the generals put on a great show and provided very interesting commentary on the battle. And the soldiers themselves, many of whom brought wives and children in period costume, played their parts to the nth degree.

The one close call around all the day's weaponry came when Andrew, Ben, and I all narrowly averted a terrible death while observing the skirmish along the Rappahannock. The Confederate troops, for whatever reason, decided to attempt firing a wooden arrow across the river to the Union side, where we were watching. The reenactors on our side diligently moved spectators out of the way, but when they fired the arrow it went terrible awry and crashed down in the heart of the gathering, missing ten different people by no more than ten feet.

After some living history presentations, and some time spent wandering the encampment, we departed the farm for Chatham Manor, which overlooks the city and from which Union artillery rained fire down about the residents of Fredericksburg. There, a very excited Park Ranger (we were, as far as we could tell, the only visitors of the day) explained that interestingly—since Lincoln visited Chatham and the house had previously been owned by friends of George Washington—it is one of only three buildings that both Lincoln and Washington had occupied (the other two are Mount Vernon and Berkeley Plantation, home of Benjamin Harrison and the birthplace of the president with the shortest tenure to date). The manor had been used as a hospital during the war, and both Clara Barton and Walt Whitman had tended to patients there.

Our trio spent the afternoon in downtown Fredericksburg, where we dined at a fabulous restaurant specializing in vegetarian cuisine (I had a bean and grain burger with bleu cheese), and explored the quaint shops until the afternoon street-fight began. The skirmish, which progressed up two blocks towards the battlefield, occurred in the middle of the town's candlelight tour of homes lavishly decorated for the holidays. Thus, all of these people standing in line to enter elegant homes suddenly found themselves engulfed in a 19th Century battle. Notice the girl covering her ears in the foreground of this shot:

After thoroughly enjoying the destruction of the tranquility of the posh Fredericksburg neighborhood, we looked at some of the beautiful 19th and 20th century buildings in town, and headed for home a little more educated and a little more appreciative of our bloody shared history.

(My full photos from the day are here. As an experiment, I also made a video (4.2 MB AVI) of some of the fighting on my digital camera.)

End The Culture Wars

Who knew that I'd spend so much of my time on this blog complaining about censorship and morality? Increasingly, though, for me those are the issues that get my blood boiling.

I came across another example of the Right's annoying habit of trying to force its values on others when I was reading one of my book blogs today:

"No part of this book should be analyzed as to whether it is right or wrong, good or bad," she said. "It's all twisted, lewd and in every way inappropriate."

So which book is Cerise Ivey, the mother of a Blue Springs, Missouri, middle school student talking about? The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women? XXX: 30 Porn-Star Portraits? No, it's perennial young-adult classic The Giver by Lois Lowry. Luckily, the Blue Springs Board of Education voted unanimously to keep the book on the reading list. The article didn't mention anything about her being laughed out of the building, but hopefully, that's what happened.

Besides the fact that I really liked "The Giver" while I was growing up, I got grumpy about this because, frankly, this whole conservative movement of silencing anything with which you don't agree is really getting out of hand.

One of the important foundations of our democracy is that everyone has the right to say anything. Your right is to ignore it-not to silence them. I can't help but feel that Cerise Ivey might really be missing the point of literature: it broadens your horizons. Reading a lot of different books makes you a more interesting person and more able to engage with and understand life. Had I not been originally required to read them in school, I never would read Zora Neale Hurston, Shakespeare, any poetry, or anything Russian. But I'm now a better person for all reading all of that. I pity her children growing up in a house devoid of intellectual rigor or engagement.

If a book offends you, don't read it. There are millions of others out there. If a television show offends you, don't watch it. There are now hundreds of other channels. If "expanding your horizons" doesn't really appeal to you, then don't go to the library. If you don't want your child exposed to the mean old intellectual elite at school, keep them home and school them yourself. But, please, just, please stop trying to force your values on other people. I find Rush Limbaugh disgusting and hateful, but I still run across him every so often on the radio. You know what I do? Switch stations. And if I come Britney Spears on the next channel? I just switch again. There's a lot of choice in life right now. Use it.

Chuck Klosterman addressed this whole problem in the January 2005Esquire—which I was reading earlier this week—in an essay (subscription required) entitled, "Culture Got You Down? Get over it. You'll be happier-and a lot less annoying":

... Do you want to be happy? I suspect that you do. Well, here's the first step to happiness: Don't get pissed off that people who aren't you happen to think Paris Hilton is interesting and deserves to be on TV every other day; the fame surrounding Paris Hilton is not a reflection on your life (unless you want it to be)....Don't get pissed off because people didn't vote the way you voted. You knew that the country was polarized, and you knew that half of America is more upset by gay people getting married than it is about starting a war under false pretenses. You always knew that many Americans worry more about God than they worry about the economy, and you always knew those same Americans assume you're insane for feeling otherwise (just as you find them insane for supporting a theocracy). You knew this was a democracy when you agreed to participate, so you knew this was how things might work out. So don't get pissed off over the fact that the way you feel about culture isn't some kind of universal consensus. Because if you do, you will end up feeling betrayed. And it will be your own fault. You will feel bad, and you will deserve it.

While aimed at liberals, his message holds true for the Religious Right as well: This is a democracy. Our diversity of opinions and taste, and our ability to choose among the whole spectrum of life and activity, is what makes our system strong.

Hitting Them Where It Hurts

The UCC is continuing to make me proud to be a member. A week after the initial bruhaha over their non-controversial ad being refused by NBC and CBS, they have launched a new website, accessibleairwaves.org to go after the media companies that are refusing to let the public airwaves be used for public debate.

As the UCC reports:

The Office of Communication of United Church of Christ, Inc. is filing challenges on the License renewal of a CBS station WFOR-TV and NBC station WTVJ-TV in Miami for failing to operate in the public interest. This is in response to CBS's and NBC's refusal to air a paid UCC ad on religious tolerance and inclusion because it was deemed "controversial". Broadcasters who use the public airwaves have a responsibility to operate in the public interest. UCC's message is being denied access to the airwaves, therefore the licenses should not be renewed. It's time to take back the airwaves from the big media corporations.

It's sad that a church is stepping into the void where our elected leaders and the morally corrupt FCC fear to tread. I guess, though, that we'll take leadership wherever we can find it. Thank God someone's doing it.

The UCC is urging its supporters to email the FCC in support of their petitions. (HRC is also urging its members to call CBS and complain:212-975-4321) The UCC's efforts might actually be effective given all the news this week on how the FCC allows only a few people to control what we can watch.

Let's hope they don't just allow conservatives to manipulate the system. After all, God is on our side.

Moral Values

I know that there's been a lot of debunking of "moral values" as a campaign motivator recently, but nevertheless the Anti-Leviticans are continuing to talk about them. Here's a great example of their moral values. A man the President celebrated earlier this week as someone who's life has been made better by the GOP's policies had in fact, been charged by police with the sexual exploitation of a child. Wow. Does anyone do vetting anymore?

All I can say is that President Bush's and Mike Hintz's values aren't mine. What are your moral values?

Day of Infamy

Today is the 63rd anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.

As I reported earlier this week, I finished reading Philip Roth's Plot Against America recently, the main premise of which was the Pearl Harbor attack never came and we never entered World War II. As sad as it to think of everything lost, it's sadder still to think of what might have been had that event not caused the U.S. to step up to plate at that moment in history.

On Opinions & Issue Framing

I'm slowly exploring the world of Podcasting—listening to radio and audio programs on my iPod—and this weekend, I listened to Malcolm Gladwell's keynote address at the October PopTech conference. Best known as the author of "The Tipping Point" and a writer for the New Yorker, he spoke about his upcoming book, "Blink," which examines human nature and decision-making. His thoughts gave me a lot of hope for a more progressive vision in this country—particularly that we should not be afraid to take aggressive stands and go out on a limb. His points were three:

• People's opinions are remarkably unstable.
  
• People pick up cues unconsciously. We can't explain how or why we do certain things and prefer certain other things.
  
• Asking people to think about and articulate their preferences changes them—but not really.

Gladwell basically argues that you can't actually trust people's opinions on things that they don't really understand. There's a visceral level of preference that people are unable to articulate, and thus, when pressed, they say they want something less sophisticated than their actual preference—because they know how to express something less sophisticated. Additionally, when confronted with new ideas outside the normal realm of people's worldview, they often just say they don't like something or that it's "ugly," because they lack words to describe it otherwise. He uses three main examples—the Herman-Miller Aeron chair, which went on to become the best-selling chair in the history of office chairs, despite nearly unanimous market research that it was "ugly" and unpopular; New Coke, which Coke's marketing tests showed beat old coke by 55 to 45; and a university study involving poster choice that found that when asked to explain a person's choice of posters, people took posters that made them unhappy.

The lesson of all three: If you provide people with exactly what they say they want, they are often quickly grow unhappy with it because, fundamentally, it wasn't what they actually wanted—merely what they were able to articulate that they wanted.

While the talk was aimed at marketing officials, it had a lot to do with issue framing and reminded me of our conversation on Friday. Democrats "liked" Howard Dean, but weren't able to articulate why, so when pressed they said they liked John Kerry because he was "electable." So they got John Kerry and then the punditry wondered why people weren't really happy with him.

Fundamentally, this goes to one of the deep-seeded problems in the Democratic Party: The Party establishment tries to focus group everything and strives to give the electorate EXACTLY what they say they want—in a candidate, in a message, in an issue, etc. The Party tries to create the best Frankenstein it can in a focus group vacuum, and then it turns around and expects it to magically catch on. Then, time and again, we sit around wondering how on Earth we could have not succeeded in capturing lightening in a bottle. Then, we give people what they say they want and wonder why it's not catching on and why people are frustrated with their choices. Gladwell's argument tells us it's because, simply put, they're looking for something more sophisticated than they're able to articulate. If you attempt to focus group an uneducated audience than you're going to end up with an uneducated answer and solution that will fail. It's sort of like the old computer programming maxim: Garbage in, garbage out.

Unfortunately, I fear progressives aren't doing anything of the kind. We're simply trying to figure out how to talk to people like Republicans. We've all read Thomas Frank's book, and gone back to the focus groups that got us here in the first place.

In thinking about how to forward a progressive agenda, we should instead listen to Gladwell's advice: Stay away from simple answers and instead not be afraid to offer sophisticated solutions that people may initially react to as "ugly." By going out on a limb, with a comprehensive agenda that's actually progressive and forward-thinking, we can forge a new forum of discussion and win more people over in the long-term without offering what we know are intellectually bankrupt ideas and slogans that probably would fall short in the public sphere anyway.

The public may not be initially on our side because our ideas might be "ugly," but that's not because they're wrong—it's because they're advanced enough that people lack the vocabulary or knowledge to discuss them in greater detail. Given time and resources, people will come around and become strong adherents to the ideas simply because they'll be happier with them in the long term. Sophistication is not a bad thing.

I know this all goes against traditional political messaging and branding ideas, but look at where that school of thought has gotten us....

(Anyway, here's the link to Gladwell's talk as an MP3. I highly recommend that you take a half-hour and listen to it.)

On The TeleGraff Bookshelf

I've been meaning for some time to write an update on my reading, or at least that reading that I'm not doing in the kitchen. After years of writing off the whole genre, I've actually been plowing through some really great fiction as of late, Graham Greene's "The Power and the Glory"—which was officially damned by the Vatican in 1953—Ann Patchett's "Bel Canto", and Philip Roth's "The Plot Against America." While the first two were decidedly beautiful and compelling stories (the Whisky Priest in the former and the hapless terrorists in the latter being among the more compelling characters I've come across in a while), the third I found highly disturbing in the sense that it both could have been true and could still become true (although the likely target is no longer the Jews so much as Muslims). All three get my unconditional recommendation.

Also, as the year winds down, the "best of 2003" lists are beginning to trickle out. The New York Times kicks it off this week with its list of "100 Notable Books of the Year," and the Washington Post provides its "Best of the Year."

An interesting distinction is that the Times' list only encompasses "notable" books, which are separate from next week's "best" books, while the Post skips right to the "best." Indeed, a quick scroll through the Times' list finds several books—I Am Charlotte Simmons and Life of Graham Greene Vol. III—that were widely panned by critics (and by my friends who have dared venture into them despite the reviews), so it's obvious that lasting quality isn't necessarily what the Times looks for in a "notable" book. Meanwhile, over at the Post's BookWorld's "Best" listings, both of the above books are absent.

All-in-all, I managed this year to make it through eight of both of the Post's BookWorld Raves, and of the Times' Notable Books (interestingly, slightly different books), which I think isn't all that bad given everything else I've been reading. My list only included one of the fiction tomes, "Plot Against America," but on the non-fiction side, I hit books ranging from Richard Clarke's "Against All Enemies: Inside America's War on Terror" to Edward Conlon's "Blue Blood" (which I nominated, and got selected as one of Powell.com's Daily Dose book picks) to the well-deserving 9/11 Report to David K. Shipler's illuminating "The Working Poor: Invisible in America."

Incidentally, if you're interested in lasting quality, you might want to click over to the Online Computer Library Center(OCLC), which recently compiled a list of the top 1000 titles owned by its member libraries, as it explains, the intellectual works that have been judged to be worth owning by the 'purchase vote' of libraries around the globe."

I'm not sure what I expected, but the top 10 books—which ranged from ones I expected (the Bible and Homer's Odyssey) to completely unexpected ones (Mother Goose)—is interesting enough even before you dive into the full list of 1000. Then the factoids are worth checking out too: Shakespeare got 40 entries and Stephen King zero; the highest work by a woman is "Wuthering Heights," by Emily Brontë at 29th, and the highest involving an animal is "Moby Dick" at 35 (!).

Anyway, personally, I think I might have to go back to some nonfiction for the next couple of weeks to lower the pile beside my bed. Next up for me? Burke Davis's Civil War classic "Sherman's March, " and Hendrik Hertzberg's "Politics," which I noted happily got a great review from the Times.

UPDATE: Here's the Economist's Best list. A different perspective brings a whole bunch of different books.

Hottest. Woman. Ever.

I got to "meet" one of my favorite TV personalities today, Rachael Ray of 30 Minute Meals fame.

I've been a fan for several years, and now that I'm cooking regularly have become a big devote of the food (eating it, not just watching it), so it was pretty exciting that she was coming to town. I've had today’s signing on my calendar for several weeks, as the Barnes & Noble around the corner from my (now former) office has been advertising it heavily. I arrived about 30 minutes early, and found the line already wrapped from the cookbooks all the way through the aisles filled with Biography, U.S. History, World History, Christianity/Religion/Judaica, Sociology, and New Age, and back past Writing, Television, Jazz, Music, Dance, and College. By the time the appointed hour had arrived, the line filled most of the second floor of the store.

The store had 275 slots, but Rachael was supposed to leave after 90 minutes and it soon became evident one or the other would have to give. So being the generous and all around delightful person she is, she stayed, and after two hours of waiting in a slowly advancing line, the magical moment for me arrived:

I will state for the record here that I believe that Rachael Ray is the hottest woman on television right now. Definitely she is on the show, and even more so in person. With her accent, she’s irresistible. I was devastated tonight to hear she might be married, but I have no verification, so I'm ever hopeful.

She signed my cookbook: "To Garrett - Yum :-) Rachael." Then she looked at me, smiled, and said, "Thanks for waiting." I just about melted. The question for me is: Does her cookbook go back on my cookbook shelf, or does it get moved onto my bookcase shelf reserved for my most treasured tomes?

Now, my dear friend Andrew is passing back through town this week as part of his Civil War battlefield tour (we started together in Antietam in October), so he humored me by meeting me at the book signing (the photo is courtesy of him). We then tried to go to the National Symphony Orchestra, but they had no more of the cheapest tickets (and D.C. doesn't do rush tickets), so we ended up wandering around the downtown, and stumbling upon the lighting of the National Christmas Tree.

We couldn't get anywhere close to the Ellipse because of security regarding President Bush's attention. We watched instead from 17th Street as Bush gave his remarks (something about "peace"), and then he gave the countdown: "5....4....3....2," and then promptly on "2" they lit the tree. I guess this administration's strategy of pre-emption extends even to holiday festivities.

A Faith-Based View of Gay Marriage

I've been a member of the United Church of Christ (UCC) my entire life. I was baptized into it, attended on and off while growing up, and then in college found a fabulous UCC congregation in Cambridge. The minister at First Church, Mary Luti, and Harvard's Baptist minister, Peter J. Gomes, the Plummer professor of Christian morals, together inspired the faith that I hold today.

One of my favorite aspects of the UCC faith has always been its openness, tolerance, and dedication to peace. Thus, I was proud to see that the Church has launched its first ever television ad campaign, aimed at broadening its message and appeal.

The ad (view it here) itself is pretty jolting actually, it features a church set behind a red velvet rope, where two large bouncers brusquely turn away a variety of people-mostly gays and minorities-while allowing classic white families and straight couples through. The message tagline? "Jesus didn't turn people away. Neither do we."

The voiceover then goes on to say, "like Jesus -- the United Church of Christ seeks to welcome all people, regardless of ability, age, race, economic circumstance or sexual orientation."

A well-done ad, all around, and one that certainly made me sit up and pay attention. The UCC's buy is nationwide, so most Americans will see at some point over the next month. But, not, it appears on CBS or NBC. According to a UCC press release, both networks have refused to air the ad because the subject matter is "too controversial":

"Because this commercial touches on the exclusion of gay couples and other minority groups by other individuals and organizations," reads an explanation from CBS, "and the fact the Executive Branch has recently proposed a Constitutional Amendment to define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, this spot is unacceptable for broadcast on the [CBS and UPN] networks."

I just don't understand the logic here. Setting aside that the UCC spot does not explicitly mention homosexuality or gay marriage in any way, setting aside that I've seen many edgy Ad Council ads that preach "tolerance" that weren't deemed "too controversial," since when have we have been prohibited from debating issues that the White House is talking about? Have we really reached a level in America when large media companies are so gunshy that they're unwilling to run anything that goes against President Bush's moral values?

As Joshua Micah Marshall writes at Talking Points Memo, "CBS's explanation seems to rest on the preposterous argument that because the ad addresses a major public debate that that makes it 'unacceptable.' Or is it just that discussing homosexuality is 'unacceptable'?"

Either way, this is absurd. Over the course of the day today, I got more and more incensed because I've long respected CBS and NBC as news organizations. But for the corporations behind those networks, it appears that an ad that doesn't mention gay marriage is evidently too hot to handle.

I tried to call CBS to complain this afternoon, but they put me into a comment mailbox where I could leave a message about Dan Rather's decision to step down. Please call them yourself today and tell them you're disappointed that they're allowing the White House to dictate which issues we can discuss in this country: 212-975-4321.

So that issue got me a little thinking more broadly about the discussion (read = knee-jerk bigoted debate) taking place this week on gay marriage. The underlying issue is something I've long followed and cared deeply about every since a former girlfriend asked me, "Why should it matter who someone falls in love with?" As a Vermonter, I followed the civil unions debate in my home state, and cheered the brave legislators and governor who signed that bill into law and then campaigned for reelection across the state wearing a bulletproof vest because of death threats for the Green Mountain State's quest for equality. This spring, I was proud of the gay marriage law in Massachusetts, where I went to college. And, I've been thinking more frequently about it now that one of my co-workers is a father with a very nice husband.

Because of all of that, Sunday night's ABCNews story on misguided evangelical "Christians" had already gotten my dander up this week. In a year filled with disgusting bigotry, Florida's Gary Cass might take the cake. He told ABC that President Bush had better deliver God now that the 12 percent of "Christians" who insist on not following Leviticus 19:18 have delivered for Bush:

Cass wants a U.S. Supreme Court that will outlaw abortion and gay marriage. "Do you want to take your children to a National League baseball game for instance and have homosexuals showing affection to one another? I don't want my kids to see that," he said.

Even for a bigot, Cass' logic is especially nonsensical. How will outlawing gay marriage stop homosexuals from making out at baseball games? This is America, where until President Bush can make it otherwise, we live in a free society-which means that almost every day you run across something you don't want to see.

That Anti-Leviticus crowd must be even more incensed by the U.S. Supreme Court's refusal to intercede on the gay marriage issue in Massachusetts this week. As First Draft reports,

Merita Hopkins, a city attorney in Boston, had told justices in court papers that the people who filed the suit [against gay marriage] have not shown they suffered an injury and could not bring a challenge to the Supreme Court. "Deeply felt interest in the outcome of a case does not constitute an actual injury," she said.

Let's reiterate that for those among us who are stupid or have been deafened by the constant cry from the right that anything they think is icky should be outlawed: Deeply felt interest in the outcome of a case does not constitute an actual injury.

Aaron Sorkin said it best in The West Wing, referring to the NEA but making essentially the same point: I don't know where you get the idea that taxpayers shouldn't have to pay for anything of which they disapprove. Lots of 'em don't like tanks. Even more don't like Congress.

You don't want to see men kissing at National League baseball games? Guess what? You have to see that whether you want to or not. You don't get to make laws against stuff because you don't like it. You don't get to deny those two guys who are making out during the Astros game legal protection. This is America. You pay your taxes, and you get to see all manner of shit you don't want to see.

On the other hand, as the "Christian" Right said in the ABC article, "They believe that if their agenda is not implemented quickly—if their concerns are not addressed in a timely fashion—God will be angry. One leading evangelist recently warned, 'God's patience runs out.'"

I hope that God's patience does run out soon: I hope his patience for hate mongers, bigots, and racists ends as soon as possible.

I know that I've never been taught that God hates anyone. I've been taught, in fact, precisely the opposite. We are all God's children, and He loves each one of us, just as we should love one another. In fact, contrary to what the Right might tell you, I've been taught that it is INtolerance that is anti-American—and I've been taught this by a Church and a faith whose members inspired the Boston Tea Party and hid the Liberty Bell from the British during the occupation of Philadelphia (Sidenote: What has YOUR faith done for America lately, Mr. Cass?).

Reverends Mary Luti and Peter J. Gomes taught me all of this and about God's love—and they should know. They're both gay themselves.