Dan Dunn’s Podium

Today former Massachusetts House Speaker Sal DiMasi was indicted for “conspiracy, honest services mail fraud, aiding and abetting, and honest services wire fraud” related to the awarding of a multi-million dollar contract to Cognos software. For most of us, this isn’t a shock.  The Globe has been writing investigative stories about this for a year and the story lines all lead to the speaker.  Still, it’s a milestone in that it moves the issue from a story to a courtroom.  Whether the story ends in a jail cell is up to a jury at this point.

This is not water under the bridge. The people who put DiMasi in power are all still in power themselves, and they need to be called to account.  DiMasi was re-elected to his speakership just five months ago, and resigned three weeks after that.  Each of us needs to call up our representative and ask them why they voted to make DiMasi their leader.  Read my post from January, when I asked what our legislators are made of: We all knew he was ethically compromised, but they elected him anyway.  Why?

I’m particularly unhappy with my legislator, Jay Kaufman.  Kaufman didn’t just vote for DiMasi.  He nominated him, complete with glowing speech.  He even went on a publicity tour to shore up DiMasi’s reputation.  Check this quote, given after one of DiMasi’s claims of innocence:

“This should put an end to the questions about the speaker’s integrity and about his seriousness of purpose, ” said Representative Jay Kaufman, Democrat of Lexington and chairman of the Joint Committee on Public Service. “But cynics and skeptics abound in this business, and all of us in it know that.”

End of questions about his integrity, Jay?  Really?  A grand jury still has some questions.  So do I.  And they’re questions about you.

Universal Hub remains my best blog read of the day.  Sometimes I feel silly reposting the best-of-UH, but until my friends tell me they’re reading UH too, I’ll keep passing on these gems.  Earlier in the week, UH shared this exchange on Twitter:

Someone in the police department has retained their sense of humor.

Dick Cheney has been actively defending his administration’s policies.  He knows (I think) that those policies were soundly rejected by the American people last year, but that hasn’t stopped him from trying to convince everyone that he was right.  Maybe he’s making his case for the historians?

One of his repeated themes is that the policies were right because they were successful.  It’s a carefully-clothed argument that the ends justified the means.  Sure, people were tortured.  Sure, people were denied their day in court.  Sure, Americans were unlawfully spied on.  But it’s all ok, because he made America safe.

From Thursday’s speech:

On our watch, they never hit this country again. After the most lethal and devastating terrorist attack ever, seven and a half years without a repeat is not a record to be rebuked and scorned, much less criminalized. It is a record to be continued until the danger has passed.

Here’s the problem with his argument: it’s empty.  No proof.  How many terrorist attacks have there been by foreigners in the US before 2001?  How many have there been after 2001?  And he wants me to believe that his policies made a difference?   Wikipedia has a list of terrorist incidents to help you consider the questions.

I’m reminded of this brilliant Simpson’s dialog, which aired in 1996 (five years before we had a Homeland Security department):

Later, a full-force Bear Patrol is on watch. Homer watches proudly.

Homer: Not a bear in sight. The Bear Patrol must be working like a charm.
Lisa: That’s specious reasoning, Dad.
Homer: Thank you, dear.
Lisa: By your logic I could claim that this rock keeps tigers away.
Homer: Oh, how does it work?
Lisa: It doesn’t work.
Homer: Uh-huh.
Lisa: It’s just a stupid rock.
Homer: Uh-huh.
Lisa: But I don’t see any tigers around, do you?
[Homer thinks of this, then pulls out some money]
Homer: Lisa, I want to buy your rock.

Thanks, Homer, but I like bears. I don’t need your Patrol.

I’m not buying Dick Cheney’s rock, either.

I got to the Alewife platform this morning at about 11:10, as a train was pulling out. There was a second train there, empty, doors closed. It looked like it was going out if service. I waited on the platform with a few dozen others.

Another train came in. Everyone unloaded.  Immediately, the loud departure warning bell started ringing. We all piled on to the new train - the bell was ringing, and it was the only train with open doors.

I was dubious. Generally, the driver has to walk from one end of the train to the other (it’s Alewife, so the trains reverse direction). If that driver hasnt taken the walk, no one is going anywhere.  I stayed alert.

The train that had been there the whole time, the empty one, started up. It rolled a few feet and stopped. The doors opened.  I jumped out of the full train and hustled over.

“Are you headed out?” I shouted to the driver, who was leaning his head out the window.

He nodded.

“They’re all on the other train,” I shouted. “The other train is full of passengers.”

He gave a sort of embarassed shrug.

I got on his train. The door closed. We rolled out of Alewife.

I had a train all to myself.

(I think it was train #1636 if any MBTA people are reading)

I went to the Sox game on Tuesday with Karl.  It was a nice night with great weather.  We sat next to a nice woman who had last been to the park to see Yastremski, in 1979.  And Tim Wakefield pitched a gem.  He gave up one run in 8 innings, and the game lasted only 2:18!  Papelbon nailed the 2-1 win.  

Evidently I was not the only one dazzled by his performance.  Bill Janovitz of Buffalo Tom whipped out a tribute song.  Download the MP3 and give it a listen.

Dylan has written all about Catfish
I may never write like Bobby, WAKE like Pedro won’t pitch
But true Red Sox fans will always know what they wish
To have nine players just like Timmy Wakefield
Nine players just like Timmy Wakefield
Give me nine players just like Timmy Wakefield

Found via Universal Hub

Imagine for a moment that you’re an 18-year-old US citizen.  By law, you can:

• buy a gun
• get married
• have kids
• join the military
• go to war

You cannot:

• buy a beer
• get a credit card

That latest entry is a new one.  It’s one of the not-very-publicized sections of the credit card reform act that sailed through the house today, 361-64.  When the law goes into effect, the average young adult, having reached the age of majority, will not be legally permitted to get a credit card.  But it will be perfectly OK for him/her to have a few children while they wait for their application to clear!

There’s a lot to hate about the credit card reform bill, but this particular section has a special place in my heart.  It’s an unambiguous example of the dumbing of America.  Can’t pay your bills on time?  Don’t worry, the government will help you.  You’re entering into agreements that you can’t fulfill? Uncle Sam will make the bad men go away.  You want to be treated like a child? OK, your nanny-state will protect you from your own free will.

I’m not the only one who thinks that a credit card engenders less responsibility than a gun or a child.  Maybe we should start our own political party.   I can’t think of a name, but I have a slogan: “The Party for Adults.”

This guy’s pretty funny. If you don’t have the patience for the full 2:29, use this link to skip to the 1:47 mark and watch the Youkilis impression.

Found via The Red Seat on Facebook.

This video is as good a reason as any to break my posting drought.

I want to bring them into the office to play Beirut.

Dear Voters,

I’m running for re-election to Town Meeting from Precinct 21. I’m asking for your vote on Saturday. If you don’t live in Precinct 21, but you know someone who does, please let them know that I’m on the ballot. (precinct map)

I moved to Arlington ten years ago. Last fall I bought a house on Alpine Street and moved across town. I’ve been in Town Meeting for 7 years and a member of the Finance Committee for four years. I’ve been a volunteer on other town committees, including the Municipal Power study group, the Information Technology Advisory Committee, and a few others.

I’m a good person to have in Town Meeting. I do my homework beforehand, visiting neighborhoods for zoning articles, reading background materials for bylaw changes, and I spend dozens of hours with the Finance Committee reviewing the budget. I speak at town meeting when I have a point relevant to the debate; I don’t speak just to hear my own voice.

After every meeting, I write up notes about what happened at town meeting and publish them on my blog. A few hundred people read these notes on the following day. I provide a level of detail and context that is not available from any other source.

I’m new to Precinct 21, but I’m not new to Arlington. Please vote for me on Saturday - and please ask your friends to vote for me as well.

Sincerely,

Dan Dunn

After my grandfather died, my grandmother was ready to get rid of a lot of the “stuff” the family had accumulated in the 65 years they’d lived in the house on Abbott road.  I would visit my grandmother and she’d tell me to “Pick something and take.  Find something you like and take it with you.  It’s all going to go eventually, so take something you want.”  It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know what was fair.  But Grandma really wanted to take something.

I thought about it.  It didn’t take long to think of the toy.  It’s a small, clear, plastic cube, a few inches on each side, with a ton of small metal balls inside.  The inside of the cube has a bunch of interlocking “steps” of clear plastic.  You flip the cube over, and the balls loudly cascade down the steps.  

I decided I could take the toy with a clear conscience.  It was cheap - I wasn’t laying claim to anything huge.  And if someone else wanted it, it was easy enough to hand off.  The toy has been sitting on my coffee table since then.

Fast forward to present day: Aunt Mary scanned some old pictures and forwarded them to the family.  Check out Aunt Ellen’s hair from Christmas of ‘72.  Spectacular, isn’t it?  It’s like an alien spaceship landed on her head for an extended visit.

 I’m the baby in the picture; I’m almost 9 months old.  Once I got over the spectacle of the beehive, my gaze drifted to the toy that so clearly has my attention back in 1972.  My jaw dropped.

There’s the cube.  I’m a few months old, and I’m playing with the cube.  Thirty-five years later, Grandma asked me to pick something, and the one thing I asked for was the cube I’d played with as a baby.

It makes me wonder about brain development and memory.  It’s just a simple plastic cube, but it’s captured my attention for decades.  Do I still like it because I have associated good memories somewhere?  Or am I hardwired to enjoy bouncing ball-bearings?