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Has anybody else noticed that, in the Iraq debate, we’ve just seen what may be the first invocation on a planetary scale of Godwin’s Law?
And remember: once Godwin’s Law is triggered, a corollary suggests that the information content of the discussion immediately drops to zero.
Sounds about right, though I suspect maybe we’ve been there for a while.

It occurs to me, given events, that it is now painfully obvious that we need a German equivalent of “cheese-eating-surrender-monkey.”
I’m thinking it should begin with “schnitzel-snarfing-“, but after that it gets foggy.
More later if I think of a good one; in the meantime, feel free to contribute your own…
Update: Hmph. Seems I was quite behind the curve on this one. Check out Christopher Johnson’s similar call for suggestions, and Tim Blair’s fine responses.

The following is part of a blogburst, a simultaneous, cross-linked posting of many blogs on a single theme. This blogburst concerns Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its spinoff series, Angel. For a guide to other Buffy/Angel articles, go to Buffy BlogBurst Index.
He sits across the small table, eyeing me with a cautious, hard stare over the wire rims of his glasses. He is the very model of the man who has seen too much to be troubled by the likes of me; but still, he also knows well enough not to underestimate by appearance.
In this case, though, the appearance is correct. I’m harmless.
“Why am I here?” he asks in a smooth British voice.
“Excellent question. Why are any of us here? A bit deep for this early in the morning though, don’t you think?” I settle for glibness, as I’m not sure I know the answer in sincerity.
He keeps staring. A waitress arrives and delivers me coffee; for him, tea.
Still staring. A patient man, indeed.
“To talk,” I admit finally. “That’s all.”
His posture remains wary, but I can see his eyes soften slightly.
“Indeed,” he says, looking around the cafe. “Why don’t we start with where we are, then.”
“Southern California,” I say with a slight smile. “Not far from Sunnydale, or at least, where it would be.”
The wariness returns to his expression, now tinged with genuine concern. “Would be?”
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Different universe. No Sunnydale here.”
This is a man for whom that is a perfectly sensible explanation, and so he relaxes once more. “No Buffy, then? Who is the Slayer?”
“No Slayer,” I say. “No vampires.”
For the first time I think I have truly shocked him, and he blinks at his tea, taking this in. He makes work out of his tea ritual for a few moments, finally taking a sip and wincing slightly before looking me in the eye again.
“This must be a wonderful universe indeed. No vampires…” He looks thoughtful. “Demons?”
“None.”
Curiosity is replacing wariness on his face as he understands. “No magic at all, then?”
“Not a drop.”
“Well,” he says, taking it in. “That must make matters… simpler.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
He waits, patiently.
“I said there were no demons here, but I guess that’s not completely true,” I begin. “It’s just that here, they don’t simply wear a human face; they are human.”
“Not so different, then,” he replies. “Not every evil in my world is supernatural.”
“No,” I counter. “It is different. Certainly, there are men who do evil in your world. But your great struggles … the great evils that must be defeated, those that threaten the world itself; they don’t come from humanity.”
He considers this, looking at me solemnly. “And you believe you face such a great evil now? An evil that comes from within humanity?”
I nod, trying to find purchase in my thoughts; somewhere to start.
And so I tell him about September. About those who have sworn to destroy my country, and the hatred they have for everything I value about our civilization. About the pain they have already inflicted, and my deep, pervading fear that the worst is yet to come.
His expression is grim, now, as he considers what I have told him. I realize suddenly that while this man has faced the end of the world; the end of everything many times over, he has never truly faced a horror like the one in New York that I have described to him. He has lost battles, yes. But never one like this; never one with a price so high.
“You cannot change the minds of these people?” he asks, though I know he realizes the answer. He is thorough, to the last.
“Who can know?” I say in a moment of total honesty. “Perhaps some. But most; no. They are too far gone.”
He nods, and looks at me, his expression hard. “Then you must fight them, with every power this world has to offer you.”
I smile faintly, acknowledging this wisdom. “That, I know,” I say. “But here’s where we get to the other big difference between your world and mine.”
And I tell him of the debates. The discussions; the delays, the apologies well-meaning people provide for the murderers. The vast power my nation has to bring justice and freedom to the world; and the equally vast hesitation that we have at using it. The schism between those, like me, who believe that if we do not act, our very world may be threatened, and those who feel that for us to act at all would plunge the world into chaos; those that believe that somewhere along the line, we lost the moral clarity necessary for us to know right from wrong, and that in the end, that makes us no different from those who seek to destroy us. Those that believe, perhaps, that evil does not exist at all.
“In your world, the lines are clearer,” I conclude. “You disagree; you debate, you argue at times. But only for a few minutes. And then the path is clear; difficult, I know; horribly so at times. But you know what must be done, and nobody argues that the demon who just murdered half the town should be allowed to walk free because he grew up in a poor, oppressed dimension.”
He pauses. “Sometimes, they do,” he says softly, his eyes hard. And I remember Jenny, and curse myself.
“I’m sorry,” I say gently. “But that was different, and I know you know that. He was not the same man… not the same thing that killed her.”
I push onward. “But here, the murderers need not repent for their crimes to be excused and justified. Christians speak of original sin, but what I see is original innocence; the idea that some people may be excused any acts of barbarism no matter how horrific, simply because they were sinned against themsleves. It’s worse than the ends justifying the means; here, the root causes justify the means.”
He looks at me calmly, expression unreadable, and I wonder if he has not forgiven me my foolish slip. “Are you a soldier?” he asks abruptly.
I laugh once. “Hardly,” I admit. “I’m just… nobody. One man in a country of millions. A guy with what he thinks is a good sense of what is happening in the world, and grand ideas about what must be done of it.” I pause. “On good days, I think I’m a writer. Other days… not so much.”
“A writer,” he says thoughtfully, ignoring my qualification. “That is… appropriate.”
I observe him quizzically. “Why?”
“The war you fight,” he begins slowly, “It is not one of battles like those I have seen. Your nation can destroy any enemy once they are identified; once the will is found that frees you to act. Once the battle is engaged, there seems no question who will emerge the victor.”
“Your true struggle, it seems, is finding that will. Of building the consensus that lets you enter the battle at all. And that is where the real war is, and where your task lies.”
I smile. “I try,” I admit. “But one voice among so many…”
“Is the voice that may turn the tide,” he says forcefully, cutting me off.
He looks me up and down, and I feel my measure being taken. “I will tell you this,” he says. “I do not know which frightens me more. The enemy you face… or the terrible power that your nation holds in its hands to fight that threat.”
“If you are mistaken,” he warns, “If you misjudge… the consequences will be… severe . Choose wisely, and argue well.”
I nod, and we sit for a moment in silence.
“Why me?” he asks, breaking our reverie. “Why not Buffy?”
I do not hesitate; I knew the question would come.
“Because Buffy is a hero who is pure of heart,” I answer. “No matter how much I explained; how evil the acts of these men were, I don’t think she could ever give up on them. She has too much faith in humanity for that.”
I look him straight in the eye, and quote his own words. “She’s not like us,” I say, with a rueful smile. “And in this war, her compassion would be her undoing. And ours.”
“Whereas I…” he says, and it is barely a question.
“…know that sometimes, the world is not black and white. That difficult things must sometime be done. That sometimes our own innocence cannot be preserved, if we want to make the world safe for the true innocents,” I say, and allow my gaze to fall to his hands.
He nods, declining to argue my description, or the implicit charge of my eyes.
“You are a different kind of hero,” I continue. “The kind who makes the hard choices. Who sees that not acting, and ensuring that you do not risk your own moral purity, is sometimes not the truly moral path to take at all.”
“In other words, you are the kind of hero that I fear we will need in this war,” I conclude.
The silence draws out again, and I notice that his tea has gone; as has my coffee.
“Just out the door?” he asks, and I nod.
He rises, and I stand with him.
“Give our best to Buffy,” I say. “Our worlds need both kinds of heroes. Perhaps someday we will make a world here where those who think like you and I are truly obsolete. But for now… ”
“For now, you will fight,” he declares. “In the war of ideas; in the way you know best.”
I extend my hand, and he shakes it firmly. “Good luck in your war,” he says solemnly.
“And to you in yours,” I reply. “I fear things may be getting interesting for you again very soon.”
A flash of true humor crosses his face for the first time. “When has it ever not been?” he asks.
And with that, he is gone. And I am left with an empty coffee cup, and thoughts of heroes.

So there’s been much fuss made about Candidate, the FX network’s planned reality series in which contestants will jostle for position in a battle to become the winning candidate for President.
A thought occurred to me, however: where exactly does this effort fall with respect to campaign finance laws? Or network must-carry provisions?
The show might slip around these restrictions because, if I understand correctly, the whole thing takes place essentially outside of the normal campaign process — the show is over in July 2004, at which time its simply up to the winning candidate to decide whether they actually proceed to enter the real race for President. So perhaps that gets them off the hook.
But perhaps not. Questions for the (numerous) lawyers in the neighboorhood:
1) Do campaign finance laws apply in the case of a candidate who is clearly running for office, but has not “officially” declared their candidacy?
2) Do must-carry provisions (the regulations demanding that a television network provide ‘equal time’ to candidates if they provide any time to one) apply to a cable channel like FX at all?
3) Could you make a case that must-carry provisions would apply in this case?
Inquiring minds want to know…
Update: In response to FX’s play, Lair has announced his own candidacy for President, and has decreed that he’ll have an all-Blogger Cabinet.
Put me down for Secretary of State, Lair. Sounds like a great job, ‘cept for all the foreigners, of course.

As I mentioned below, I found myself quite impressed with the Security Strategy released by the Bush administration today.
I suspect, though, that many on the left, particularly those who presently oppose military action against Iraq, are likely to be less enthusiastic.
And so, I’d like to pose a challenge, in all seriousness and respect to my colleagues and opponents on the left in the Blogosphere: I ask that you write your own National Security Strategy, and show us where you would differ from the President.
I am interested far less in criticisms of Bush’s document, than I am in seeing a positive declaration of what your vision of a strategy to ensure the safety and security of our nation is.
Obviously, I don’t expect a 35-page document — but if you write it, I promise to read it. My only requirement is that it be written not as a reaction to Bush’s vision; not as a critique of it, but as a standalone, self-contained summary of your vision. Essentially, I want to see statements written as if you were President. Criticism is easy: the tough part comes in articulating what you would do, rather than pointing out the negatives in others proposals. And it is that challenge that I propose here.
I’ll promise a link to anybody who wants to participate on the front page, and as I said before, I’ll also commit to reading any entries, for whatever that’s worth.
I look forward to seeing responses…
-NZB

You may have noticed that little Store link on the left-hand navigation bar.
Maybe you’ve even clicked on it, and perused the fine, fine, merchandise that you can find therein.
But I’m sad to say that I know for sure you haven’t bought anything. Because, well, nobody has.
Kinda depressing, really. Doesn’t anybody want a spiffy TTLB mug? A stylish TTLB golf shirt? Or for the ladies, the always-sexy Baby Doll T-Shirt?
Not interested in material possessions, you say? Well then, I’ve just the thing for you. You can now advertise on The Truth Laid Bear. For just a few dollars, you can have an ad run on the front page — and all individual entry pages — for a week or more.
Yes, all this is thinly veiled shameless begging; and yes, I’ve been thinking it would be nice to see some sort of return from the investment of time and energy I put into the site (breaking even on hosting costs would be a start). So if you’ve enjoyed my work, and have a little spare change, go get yourself a mug. Or buy an ad to drum up traffic for your own site. You won’t be disappointed, and you’ll have my sincere thanks.
PS – At the moment, I’m still finalizing the setup of my Blogads, so you’ll see some test ads there. Sign up now and get yours to replace them!

If you haven’t done so already, you should really read Bush’s National Security Strategy, released today.
It’s a remarkable, brilliant document, and spells out about as clearly as could be what the United States must do in the coming years. Anybody who still thinks this President doesn’t have a clear vision and plan for our foreign policy would be well advised to rethink that position.
Let us all hope that we can deliver on the fine words the document contains…

Playing with the site design again. I’ve revived the “Bite Sized Truth” concept, which I toyed with briefly about a month back. This time, I did it right, using Moveable Type categories to allow me to differentiate between “bites” — to appear in the right hand column — and normal full-length posts, to appear in the main body.
I continue to explore different aspects of blogging, and as I do so, the site evolves. Hopefully it should be obvious to regular readers of TTLB that I’m aspiring to create worthwhile original material; be it ” pieces,” silly satires, or both. (And oh yeah, every now and then I’ll try and bust into a completely new category.) In recent times, though, I’ve found myself holding back from the linky-linky thing, mainly from a reluctance to distract attention to whatever allegedly-profound piece of my own writing I’ve currently got sitting atop the front page.
“Bite-Sized Truth” is meant to solve that issue, by providing me with an easy spot to put links to the quality stuff I find elsewhere, while at the same time allowing me to keep my own work front-and-center for the world to see.
Anyway, we’ll see how it goes, as with everything. And yes, Lair, I know you don’t like the right-hand-column that Bite Sized Truth sits in, but I guess I’ll just have to ask you to deal, won’t I?