Party arty
New neighbor
: I’m enjoying the new blog, In the Looking Glass, by Charles Dodgson (though I wish all bloggers would give themselves small bios; you always want to know a little something about the new neighbors). His succinct words on Enron:
To anyone still wondering why Democrats aren’t as worked up yet about the Global Crossing “scandal” as we are about Enron: here’s what’s missing from Global Crossing. It turns out that the Cheney energy plan was a “virtual rewrite of an industry wish list supplied by former Enron chief Ken Lay”, in a face-to-face meeting with Cheney. The meeting also discussed the then-ongoing California energy crisis, at a time when the White House was refusing to meet with California elected officials, including the governor.
That’s in addition to what we already knew about Enron’s influence over the entire shape of Bush administration energy policy — like the way Lay personally got the administration’s head energy regulator bounced over a policy dispute.
I’m perfectly happy to slam Democrats when they prove themselves putty in the hands of private interests — as I’ve slammed the Democrat, Steve Peace, who shaped the California electricity deregulation bill for kowtowing to … well who’da guessed? … Enron.
But there’s a reason that a White House which lets reporters into the War Room is standing on “principle” about not revealing its dealings with Enron… and I’ll wager the principle involved is cya.
And on Tyson:
A thought on Mike Tyson: with his boxing career apparently washed up, there’s been some speculation that he might wind up going into pro wrestling. I don’t see it. Why would a reputable businessman like Vince McMahon sully his name and reputation by dealing with Mike Tyson?
I am way overdue updating my links….
Globos or groupies?
: So I was walking from one meeting to the next yesterday — lots of meetings, no time for blogging — and as I navigate up Times Square around cop after cop after cop (bless them) protecting not only Starbucks (mixed emotions on that one) and even Toys R Us, I see some young people, shabbily dressed, patching together cardboard signs on sticks and I think, Ah-ha, the first anti-everything, anti-globos to be spotted. Then I look at their sign: It’s pasted full of pictures of barely pubescent rock stars. They’re getting ready to scream their lung out across the street from the MTV studios. They’re groupies. Somehow, this made me feel good about the state of things.