South Park Solidarity II

Everything that needs to be said about the "South Park" censorship controversy has already been argued here by Horus Kemwer at his Against the Modern World blog. Check it out.

Robert Downey, Jr.'s "The Last Party" (1993)

The above photograph of Robert Downey, Jr. was taken during the 1992 Republican National Convention, between August 17 and 20, 1992, at the Astro Hall Arena (part of the Astrodome complex) in Houston, Texas. Downey and his cameraman were filming what would become the 1993 social and political documentary, "The Last Party" (which is, apparently, unavailable on DVD, but you can find both clips of the film, as well as the entire film itself, on the YouTubes, if you're diligent.). Directed by Marc Levin and Mark Benjamin, and written by Downey, Donovan Leitch, Levin, and Josh Richman, the film - an attempt to bring together politics, pop culture, and the personality of Downey - is now mostly forgotten.

Watching the film all these years later, and knowing what was in store for Downey in the years to come, the film is more of a cultural relic than a meaningful documentary about the political culture of 1992. Downey seemed more interesting in being the center of attention than accurately depicting the political landscape of the time. Of course, we know now, and we probably suspected then, that Downey, despite his talents, was not the most mature individual. He would later spiral downward into a pit of self indulgence from which he would later, finally emerge after nearly a decade of attempting to do so. (In fact, in one portion of the film, Downey comments rather frankly on his struggle with drugs, which modern viewers now know would halt his career for some time just a few years after this 1993 film was released.). However, in 2010, perhaps the young Downey can be forgiven for his political ignorance and his haphazard attempt to report on politics in 1992. Maybe we should just enjoy the film for what it is?

Well, that's not exactly what they did upon the film's arrival in theatres. In 1993, reviewing the documentary at the time of its initial release, Stephen Holden of The New York Times wrote:

More than an interviewer, Mr. Downey has the impossible task of being the emotional and spiritual grounding wire for the film, which Mark Benjamin and Marc Levin have directed in the style of an jeans commercial on MTV. The film is so jumpy that no one, including Mr. Downey, gets to say much of anything. Adopting a cheery, guy-next-door attitude, he offers autobiographical tidbits about his parents' divorce, his sexual problems with women and his enrollment in a 12-step program, which are supposed to be emblematic of the "Less Than Zero" generation.

Crisscrossing the country with Mr. Downey is the furthest thing from being on the road with Charles Kuralt or Tom Brokaw, since Mr. Downey prefers the role of clown to pundit. Early in the film, he announces he has two sides to his personality, "the good boy" and "the goat boy." The goat boy is shown, stripped to his underwear splashing around in a public fountain. The goat boy prefaces a group interview with some young Wall Street traders who chant "greed is good" with a string of glib obscenities about how he loathes them.

The Wall Street colloquy is one of the more pungent fragments in "The Last Party," which opens today at the Village East. Far too much of the time, the film dashes around trying to cover as many political bases as possible. Mr. Downey attends marches and demonstrations involving feminists and gay-rights advocates, but the visits are so brief that the issues are barely addressed. Whether the people facing the camera are poor, angry blacks or rich Young Republicans, everybody tries to cram as much rhetoric as possible into their 15 seconds of celluloid. The collective voices add up to a cocktail party din in which no one is heard distinctly.

It did not, apparently, fare well at the box office. But then again, what documentaries do, especially then? (Michael Moore's big budget pseudo-docs were still years off in the future).

Back in late 2007, this site located a few of the interviewees featured in the film. Few of them were pleased with their depiction in the final product, and many were not interested in commenting on the film so many years later. Fred Bartlett, Jr., who was featured in the film as a young Republican at the 1992 Republican National Convention, was kind enough to answer a few questions by email regarding the nature of the experience. He and his friends were interviewed as a group by Downey, who discovered that a large group of College Republicans would be assembled at a ranch in Houston during the convention.

Bartlett's 2007 interview with this site is as follows:

1. How would you describe your political beliefs in 1992? How would you compare them to those of 2007?

In 1992, I would classify myself as a conservative Republican. Who followed the party line and was supportive of the political process. I was ready to fight the ideological war against the liberals who appeared very intolerant of all beliefs that did not support their agenda or point of view. Today in 2007, my views have changed and some would say that I am very different. While I still am a registered Republican, I really have a hard time supporting the party and what they are doing. Today, I really feel that the politicians are clueless when it comes to what people are going through on a daily basis. DC is like "Fantasy Island" and the politicians are like the guest getting off of the plane, they are there to have their fantasy fulfilled and they get that. I would classify myself as a fiscally conservative libertarian, I do not want the government in anyone’s life at all. If I approve of them getting into your life, then that says that they should be able to get into mine.

2. If your political beliefs have changed, or have been confirmed, what in the last 15 years would you identify as the reason for that change or confirmation?

I would say that the two biggest factors that have changed my political views are my marriage [and] my job. I am an administrator at a community college, and we have an open enrollment policy because we believe that education should be open to everyone willing to work and achieve. For many, politicians and politics continue to push that dream out of reach. My marriage has change my views because I no longer think of myself, I have kids, I am saving for college, I am paying a mortgage, and I have to live within a budget.

3. From the documentary, it appears that you were in Houston for the 1992 Republican National Convention. What brought you to Houston? Were you a delegate, or were you attending on behalf of a group? Do you have any fond memories of that August of 1992?

I was a student at the time, I was volunteering on the Bush Campaign Team and my friend Bill Spadea was the national youth director for Bush/Quayle ’92. He put this whole program together to get thousands of college students there for the president. I drove down with several other students. I have some memories of that whole episode, I remember having a really good time, details will not be discussed.

4. What do you remember about the interview with Robert Downey, Jr.? In the film, the viewer sees a number of young politically involved individuals being interviewed at what appears to be a ranch party. Do you remember where you were? What was the group's reaction to Downey, Jr.?

Interview, that is a nice way to describe it. It was more like a sound bite. His people contacted the CRNC, College Republican National Committee, and wanted to do a piece about young people, we had arranged for him to attend the cookout at the Double H ranch and though that it would be a good place for them to get some footage. A lot of it was staged and I only got in the final cut because he started asking about pro-choice republicans and the crowd went crazy shouting him down and one girl spoke up at this republican picnic and said she was a pro-choice party member. I yelled something over her interview and Downey pulled my in front of the camera because of it. The group liked Downey, they thought it was cool that they were in Houston, and there was this star wanting to get their opinion.

5. When did you find out that you had appeared in the film, and have you ever been curious about it?

I found out about the film maybe two [or] three years later. My friends kept saying that they have seen me on Showtime or HBO, where the film appeared. The first time they told me I thought that they were pulling my leg. I have never been curious about the film. If a copy landed on my desk, I guess I would view it.

Bartlett also helpfully directed our attention to this September 1992 piece from The New Republic, which recounts a College Republican road trip to the 1992 convention. The reporter was apparently present at the time Bartlett's scene was filmed and, in some detail, described the reactions of the assembled young conservatives to Downey and his documentary film-making:

At the back of the ranch, the leaders of the College Republicans gather in a small tent to participate in the taping of a documentary on American politics. The event turns out to be an unwitting documentary on the implosion of Reagan-Bush Republicanism. Not that the producers of the show had anything so sophisticated in mind. The event is hosted by Robert Downey Jr., an actor famous for portraying alienated yuppie drug dealers. When he arrives at the ranch he is instantly surrounded by a peristaltic mass of adoring College Republicans. Now he sits on one side of a long picnic table facing the two sign painters from Arkansas, one of the Virginia beauties, and Charismatic Leader Bill Spadea. Looking over them on higher benches, like hundreds of Mannerist angels, are row upon row of perfectly worshipful young Republicans.

"We believe in the values of the family," Spadea is saying. "But Congress has continually fought these values ..." The crowd starts to chant: "Bill For President! Bill For President!." Bill is clearly enjoying this proximity to celebrity.

Downey asks if "the so-called cultural elite" are to blame for the decline in Spadea's family values. "Well," says Spadia, gamely, "a lot of what they say on TV has no value base.... And the American people are sick of it."

Another great cheer goes up, and Downey fidgets. If George Bush has so many values, he asks, how come he's been involved with drug peddlers in covert operations?

"That's just hearsay. You're talking basically a lot of media people ... a lot of hearsay."

. . .

In the end the noise was too much. The film crew just gave up. The lights went off and the camera people together with Robert Downey Jr. moved to find a more peaceful place to ply their trade. As I made my own way to the exit, I couldn't help but notice a young couple off near some bushes, working hard to undermine College Republican morality.

The article has lots more about the encounter, including a detailed account of the pro-choice Republican female stepping forward and being challenged by Mr. Bartlett:

"Are there any pro-choice Republicans in the audience?" [Downey] asks.

"No!"

But it's too late. A woman grabs the microphone, provoking a full-scale panic.

"The true conservative view is economic not religious ...," she begins.

...

And then comes the most startling voice in a three-state area; it booms with the authority of Yahweh speaking to Charlton Heston:

USE YOUR HEAD, NOT YOUR PENIS!

I turn. Downey turns. Everyone turns. And there stands Fred. He's not happy. Downey may not like the point of view, but he knows good television when he sees it. Out he comes, seizes Fred by the arm, and pulls him center stage. He wants a sound bite; Fred, of course, gives him something more closely resembling a full meal.

I THINK THE PROBLEM HERE IN AMERICA IS THAT TOO MANY PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT CHOICE. WOMEN'S CHOICE. WHAT ABOUT THE WOMEN WHO ARE STARTING OUT IN THE WOMB. WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN STARTING OUT IN THE WOMB. WHAT ABOUT THE BABY IN THE WOMB?

The crowd goes completely ape, and Fred wants to go on, but Downey, seeming ever so slightly possessive, has taken back his microphone. The crowd responds with another attack.

Interviewed by email in 2007 by this site, William Hamilton, who is featured briefly in the film as a UFO scholars, remembers the experience as follows:

Some producer (I do not remember which one as I have been interviewed on television programs) asked me if I wanted to do this as they needed a UFO expert. I just remember Robert telling us that he was going to go around the room and ask questions which he proceeded to do, but I did not expect some of his responses. I have seen the film and believe I have a VHS copy of it, but I first saw it at a Westwood theater. I am not too happy about my depiction and I would have clearly done it differently if I knew. I do not recall much about the political scene then, but I think we were entering an era of increasing doubt about our government which now has become widespread.

Leitch produced a sequel of sorts called Last Party 2000, released in 2003 and hosted by the much more restrained Philip Seymour Hoffman, who covered the 2000 election. Downey was not involved. Of late, though, Downey has become a bankable Hollywood action star.

One user has posted a series of clips from the film, including the following clips (which features, among other things, Downey's interview with a Houston rapper, Downey's views and interviews on greed and profit, Downey's description of his own troubles with drugs and treatment, Downey's description of his alter ego "Goat Boy," Downey's interview with an African American Republican at the Houston convention):

John Cusack for President (2001/2002)

It's never too early, or too late, to talk about presidential elections and their accompanying trivia. In August of 2001, Democratic consultant and progressive operative Dan Carol began a tongue in cheek effort to draft Hollywood actor John Cusack to run for president. Not endorsed by the actor, and envisioned as "a draft, volunteer campaign designed to promote community service," Carol's grass roots campaign included a nifty website (an archive of which can be viewed here). The campaign - if it could truly be called that arose out of the now defunct progressive website Junction City. But why Cusack? The website boasted:

He made the tough decisions in Grosse Pointe Blank. He couldn't be bought in Eight Men Out. He's cooler than John Malkovich. And we like his politics so far.

Ultimately, after the effort received some favorable press coverage, Cusack pulled the plug on the idea. The last version of the campaign website noted: "The word has come down from the Big Guy that he wishes that this campaign would stop —and we must respect these wishes."

You can review the original media coverage of the draft Cusack campaign here, here, here, here, and here. As for Carol, you can see his LinkedIn profile to see his political resume.


In December of 2007, just over two years ago, I conducted a brief email interview with Carol regarding the idea, which by then was more than six years old. The interview went as follows:

1. How did you come up with the idea for Cusack for President in 2002? Who designed the site and led the movement besides yourself?

We had what I thought was a pretty innovative citizen engagement web site called Junction-City.com (now defunct) that we saw as a proving ground for different forms of creative online engagement, on issues and causes. In the summer of 2001, we decided to launch a celebrity for president campaign to reach out to young people turned off by party politics as usual. We thought about a bunch of folks, from Little Steven Van Zandt to Bruce Springsteen to Cameron Diaz, but Cusack's integrity, authenticity and "everyman" quality seemed like the right call at the time. It sure hit a chord. "We" was myself and the wonderful creative team at my cause consulting company.

2. What was Cusack's response? Did he ultimately ask you to stop the movement and website? How did you learn that?

As the effort took off on campuses and the entertainment press, we were contacted by a PR agency that was promoting one of Cusack's movies who asked us to blast out list about the movie. We took this as a tacit sign of support. Then when we expanded the site to include more campus organizing tools in early 2002, we got a clear go-ahead from folks in his camp that it was OK as long as we weren't raising funds. Later as Mr Cusack kept getting peppered with questions on the campaign, and because of the seriousness of choosing a president became clear in the 2002-2003 run-up to the Iraq war, we were asked quite understandably to close it down. Which we did.

Lots of folks saw the campaign as one of the important proving grounds for chapter-based online organizing efforts later used by the Dean campaign and MoveOn efforts, and for the Draft Wesley Clark campaign.

3. What did you think of Stephen Colbert's brief run for the presidency?

I LOVE Stephen Colbert and think he is brilliant. I didn't love his presidential run.

4. Did you think about starting the Cusack site again in 2008?

No way. I am busy with my work on smart forms of US energy independence. Plus the ball is in his court, not mine.

I would say this: I think past draft campaigns like this -- whether imaginary like the movie Meet John Doe (Frank Capra, 1939), tongue-in-cheek like Pat Paulsen (1968), somewhere in between (Cusack 2001) or fully serious (Perot 1992, Bloomberg 2008?) -- reflect voter demand for something more than what they are getting from the usual candidates. In some measure, I think some of the current presidential field are reaching out to these deeper aspirations, but the proof will be in the pudding and if we end up with a lot of voters who are "bored" with early nominations in March 2008, I wouldn't be surprised if something popped up here.

But we are in two shooting wars now, so this type of insurgent-creative challenge better be serious if it expects to get authentic and meaningful support.

The Legacy of Budd Dwyer (Part II)

Twenty three years ago today, on January 22, 1987, R. Budd Dwyer, an embattled Pennsylvania politician, took his own life in front of assembled journalists during a press conference. The tragic event became fodder for much pop culture in the years that followed.

Two years ago today, I offered my analysis on this disturbing and bizarre event here.

The Week That Was (1/20 - 1/25)

Heath Ledger and Mary Kate Olsen: "Well, Heath Ledger died. That's something to post, but I'll be honest. I never saw the knight movie, or the cowboy movie, so . . . I'm honestly not sure I've ever seen anything the guy ever did. Mostly, I keep wondering how much the media is going to ghoulishly dwell on his death during the release of The Dark Knight," The League, "Nothing to post," The League of Melbotis, (1/22/08). And dwell the national press will when that film, destined to be a blockbuster even before the untimely death of the young star who would would play its villain and foil to Christian Bale's Batman. But the death of of Heath Ledger will haunt not only that film but also the life and career of Mary Kate Olsen who, by attempting to manage the crisis as it initially unfolded, became an unusual, and perhaps even suspicious, player in the events of that day. The Associated Press reported:

At 3:17 p.m., she made a call to the Olsen twin that lasted 49 seconds. At 3:20 p.m., she made another call, lasting 1 minute and 39 seconds. At 3:24 p.m., another call to Olsen. That one lasted 21 seconds.

Then, at 3:26 p.m., Wolozin called 911.

At some point during the frenzy, Olsen, who was in California, summoned her personal security guards to the apartment to help with the situation, the New York Police Department said.

Paramedics arrived at 3:33 p.m. and actually went up in the elevator to the apartment with Olsen's security guards. Paramedics did not allow the security guards into the bedroom where Ledger died, and they declared him dead at 3:36 p.m. — 19 minutes after the first call to Olsen.

The masseuse called Olsen a final time at 3:34 p.m. The duration of that call was unknown.

This series of events will no doubt become fodder in every interview the currently 21 year old Ms. Olsen gives for the duration of her (presumably) long life to come. Why she, and the masseuse who called her, did not immediately call 911 will no doubt remain a mystery. Why Olsen dispatched her "private security" to the scene (who arrived as quickly as the first responders) is also a curiousity; were they sent to dispose of something embarrassing (though unconnected to the events leading up to Ledger's death)? Or is Ms. Olsen, as a very wealthy young woman, so far removed from daily society that she felt it was her crisis to handle?

We will never know, and she will likely never, ever comment thereupon. But there was another party to that series of telephone calls, the masseuse, and one wonders if she will keep mum.

What November Will Bring: "Romney v. Clinton: if these are the nominees of the Janus-faced party in November, an interesting question presents itself: will more votes be cast for positive or negative reasons?" - Horus Kemwer, "Worst Case Scenario," Against the Modern World, (1/20/08) (emphasis in original). Taking that a step farther, if Mr. Romney and Mrs. Clinton are the nominees in November, will any votes be cast at all?

The Legacy of Budd Dwyer

Not too long ago, those with an alleged conscience in the mainstream media debated the issue of what images, if any, were appropriate to broadcast in the wake of Saddam Hussein's execution. The botched execution was newsworthy, of course, but what standards, if any, does simple decency impose upon the modern mainstream media? How does the media balance that which is newsworthy with that which is appropriate to air? As society becomes more and more desensitized to violence, standards are lowered and then institutionalized. But with so many alternative sources of information these days, the mainstream media doesn't want to be scooped by some fly-by-night website, so mainstream journalists rush to air that which they might not have even considered airing only a few years before. What to do?

This is an old, and sometimes macabre, debate. Twenty one years ago today, on January 22, 1987, R. Budd Dwyer, an embattled Pennsylvania politician, took his own life in front of assembled journalists during a press conference. That very day, Paul Vathis, a Pulitzer Prize winning Associated Press photographer, offered this account of the awful scene:

I didn't think there was going to be a problem. Dwyer was passing out handouts. I was waiting for him to bring out the handout saying he finally had resigned. He was nearing the end of the news conference.

He took a blast at the press. We thought the news conference was about to end. He never said anything about resigning.

I was waiting for him to break down and cry. I was waiting for the emotional picture at the end of the conference.

Then he held up his hands when he saw some of the television people starting to take down their cameras and start to leave.

He told the newspeople, "You don't want to take down your equipment yet."

Then he passed out three different envelopes to aides in the room. He called the people up, and I thought they were his letters of resignation.

He put his hand into the brown manila envelope, and I thought he was going to pass out handouts on his resignation. I took a picture of him with his hand inside the envelope.

Then all of a sudden I saw the pistol come out, and I started shooting pictures. He held the pistol in front of his chest with the barrel up. Then he held it outright, with his right hand straight out toward the right wall. And he put his left hand out, trying to stop people from approaching. Duke Horshock, his press secretary, was on his left.

When he pulled the pistol out, everybody started yelling, "Don't, Budd! Budd, don't!"I was standing on a chair between two television guys. Nothing went through my mind except to keep shooting.

Dwyer brought the pistol back and held it in front of his chest and put the barrel into the top of his mouth. And he pulled the damn trigger. I kept shooting my pictures during the whole sequence. I was shocked, personally shocked. From professional experience, I just kept taking pictures. After the bullet went in, it was a gory scene. He went straight down to the floor and went under the window, leaning against the wall.¹

In those circles where such sinister things are celebrated, Dwyer's suicide has been referenced (and the audio has been sampled) in songs over the years (which no doubt causes pain to those family and friends if they chance across them). Filter's "Hey Man Nice Shot," about the Dwyer shooting, has an eerie and ominous feel to it (and for that reason was utilized in episodes of both "Homicide: Life on the Street" and "The X-Files," if memory serves).

It's certainly difficult to imagine an act more selfish than Dwyer's last. "You don't want to take down your equipment just yet"? He purposefully traumatized those assembled, and by offing himself in such a way, he must have made it impossible for his family and friends to fully recover from his death. How could they? When one's intentional death becomes some type of bizarre political theatre, family members and friends can never recuperate from it. But that is why the event is still being discussed a score and a year later.

1. "Painfully Close to the News," Newsday, (January 23, 1987).

The Iowa Caucuses (Comic Book Edition)

Whether it's Hillary Clinton or Mike Huckabee, Barack Obama or Mitt Romney, or John Edwards or John McCain, you can be certain of one thing: Steve Rogers, depicted above in his Captain America garb, and Lex Luthor, depicted below, will not prevail in today's Iowa caucuses. Both of these fictive figures, from Marvel and DC Comics, respectively, ran for president. Cap lost in 1980 and Luthor won in 2000 (if you can believe that). How they fared in the Iowa caucuses, however, was not explored in significant detail, if at all.

Marvel Comics did pause once in 1981, in its alternate history book What If?, to reflect upon the world that would have been had Captain American been elected to the presidency:

November 22, 1963

Today is not just Thanksgiving. Forty four years ago today, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas. Half a century later, the nation is still enthralled with the JFK assassination and the issue of the complicity, or lack thereof, of Lee Harvey Oswald. As with all tragic anniversaries, today's newspapers are filled with memories and reflections, although perhaps less so today because no one meaningfully observes a forty fourth commemoration of anything. Nevertheless, that awful day gave birth to America's thriving conspiracy industry, which suggests that any nefarious deed is the product of a secretive government cabal.


In its November 22, 1993 edition, Newsweek employed a team of writers and researchers to offer their own explanation for the plethora of conspiracy theories. Oliver Stone's JFK had been released only two year earlier, and Gerald Posner's Case Closed, an excellent 1993 book rebutting many of the assassination conspiracy theories, was receiving scoffs from anyone who considered himself or herself outside of the established order of thinking. Published on the assassination's thirtieth anniversary, Newsweek's piece offered an interesting rationale for the behavior of U.S. government officials in the immediate aftermath of JFK's murder: benevolent negligence. In the wake of Oswald's violence, various government agencies and officials tried to secure the public calm and quell any fears, attempts which conspiracy theorists later seized upon as evidence of a vast wide ranging conspiracy of which high government officials were a part. Introducing that series of articles, presidential historian Michael Beschloss observed:

Nervous at the prospect of pursuing the investigation wherever it led, [America's government leaders] instead sought to ensure that the American people's suspicions were put to rest as soon as possible. Their motives were both self-protective and honorable. [President Lyndon B. Johnson], for instance, was justifiably worried that if Americans promptly learned the depth of Oswald's apparent connections to Moscow and Havana, they might demand that he retaliate with force that could lead to a third world war.

The effect was to purchase short-term political calm at the price of thirty years of doubt, not only about John Kennedy's murder but about the integrity and ultimate purposes of American government. During these years, presidents developed such a tendency to conceal or rationalize government failings in the name of national security that the public has been encouraged to suspect a plot behind every act of American statecraft. Thirty years later, if we can wring any moral out of John Kennedy's murder, it is that, in the long reach of American history, the rewards of full disclosure tower over its immediate perils.¹

Certainly, though, these government officials and their underlings had a slight ulterior motive as well: to avoid blame for any possible mistakes or omissions and immunize themselves from accusations of negligence. In the lead article of the series, journalist Evan Thomas concluded:

In the hours and days following the assassination, America's leaders feared that a hysterical public would demand revenge for the death of their president. At the very least, they worried, the small steps Kennedy had taken toward detente would be dashed. With remarkable speed and unanimity, officials at the top levels of the U.S. government decided they must convince the country that the president's death was the work of a lone madman, not some vast communist plot. In the context of the time, this strategy was well intentioned, certainly understandable. But as a method of discovering the truth, it was deeply flawed.

...

In the end, the Warren Commission was probably right: Kennedy was killed by a lone nut, who in turn was killed by another lone nut. But conspiracy theories die hard: more people believe the wackiest conspiracy theory of all -- the CIA-LBJ-Pentagon cooked up by the movie producer Oliver Stone -- than they do the Warren Commission, the combined effort of senators, statesmen and Supreme Court justices.

The irony, of course, is that in their desire to reassure the public that the institutions of government would persevere, the worthies of the Washington establishment produced the opposite effect. The rush to judgment left many Americans wondering if their government was telling the truth.

...

In the end, the story of the American government and the assassination of John F. Kennedy is a tale of human error and parochialism, not of conspiracy. More likely than not, the men of the establishment were right about Oswald. But because of their mistakes, the public will never believe what really happened.²

The American psychology also comes into play in this arena. No one wants to believe that a single individual, acting from a place of malice, can so dramatically alter the course of a nation by killing its leader. Cynicism is also a culprit; it serves well those who are generally ignorant of the facts of the JFK assassination. Why bother to read the Warren Commission report, Posner's mighty tome, or anything else when one can fashionably hide behind a veil of doubt and disdain? If one can veto explanations with an air of cynical derision, one need not read any source material. But cynicsm and ignorance are not the only motivators for the conspiracy industry. There is another motive: profit. Conspiracies sell. Sinister cabals meeting and smoky corridors sell more books and films than a lone gunman acting alone and without aid of government conspirators. From series as popular as The X-Files to films as obscure as 2002's faux-documentary Interview with the Assassin, Hollywood adores conspiracy. By the same token, purported non-fiction books offering the latest bizarre explanations would not continue to appear were there not a buying public interested in reading, or at least purchasing, such things.

In the end, the Newsweek piece offers lessons to government leaders in times of crisis; they would do well to heed them. Rather than scurrying about in the aftermath of tragedy to reassure the American public at any cost, government leaders can and should be a bit more straightforward about such things to avoid the cluttering of the historical record. Now, just as in the 1960s, some people question the official government response to national tragedy and cite any initial uncertainty or reticence as proof positive of sinister machinations. But the goverment can't prove a negative; it cannot establish for the record that there was no American government involvement on November 22, 1963 or September 11, 2001. It shouldn't have to. All that it can do is remain reasonable and responsive and avoid offering the type of "children's history" that Newsweek rebuked as being provided to the Americans of four decades ago.

1. Michael Beschloss, "The Day That Changed America," Newsweek, p. 60-62, November 22, 1993.
2. Evan Thomas, "The Real Cover-Up," Newsweek, p. 66-95, November 22, 1993.

Scott A. Gilbert's Empire of the Senseless

Time was, Houston, Texas played host to the 1992 Republican National Convention, at which that party nominated President George H. W. Bush for a second term. It was from that event that Ronald Reagan made his last major speech and Pat Buchanan called for a culture war. The arts community in Houston was not amused, nor was Scott Gilbert of Apeshot Studios. Gilbert was, and is, a Houston based artist who in the 1990s produced a weekly comic called "True Artist Tales" in Houston's alternative newsweekly, Public News (from which the scan above came). Through Apeshot, he created his own illustrations, silk screened t-shirts, and issued limited edition comic books. He also drew the insert artwork for the Joint Chiefs for the 1992 Houston music compilation, Infected: The Twelve from Texas. That work can be seen below:

But in the fall of 1992, as the presidential battle between Bill Clinton and George H. W. Bush raged onward, Gilbert concerned himself with the Republican National Convention. In so doing, he created the "Empire of the Senseless" t-shirt, named for a song by The Mekons (which appeared on their 1989 album, The Mekons' Rock'n'roll, and which mentions, of all people, Oliver North by name in its lyrics).

Fifteen years later, Gilbert remembers his days as an artist and activist in Houston:

I sold a fair number of the Empire shirts, screening them in my house with a very primitive screen set-up. I sold them via ads in the Public News (the ads being a trade-off for the paltry sum the PN paid me for my weekly "True Artist Tales" strip). I recall delivering one set of shirts to some downtown high-rise corporate office bike-messenger style, which was fun.

In the art on the Empire t-shirt, we have a number of the candidates running for office at the convention. Left to right: James Baker as Chaplin's globe-trotting 'Little Tramp", little Danny Quayle hitting on a bong, King George himself preening out front, Pat Buchanan as Dracula, and David Duke as a clown-faced Klansman.

My acquaintances and I did what we could to oppose the Bush-1 regime at the time. One memorable event I organized was a protest march on the book-signing appearance of Oliver North. We marched down Alabama from the PN headquarters at Dunleavy (at the time) to the Bookstop on Shepherd, all wearing xeroxed Oliver North masks, carrying a boombox blasting Public Enemy and other righteous songs. During the convention, I also did a huge mural on the front window of the Lawndale Alternative Gallery on Main, which was a reproduction-blow up of a one of my "True Artist" strips condemning the actions of winner-take-all capitalism in which the Bush machine was engaging. You do what you can, and at that time I had the energy to do a few things.

In 1996, Gilbert moved "True Artist Tales" to another weekly publication, the Houston Press. (Public News folded in the late 1990s). He retired the comic about five years ago and is now a librarian at a Houston college.

"[I'm] not doing much art or comics," he writes, "but I still enjoy the old stuff."

As for the name, "Empire of the Senseless," it was used as the title of a 1988 novel by experimental writer Kathy Acker, four years before Gilbert would use it for his t-shirts and a year before the Mekons released their song of the same name. In 1993, it became the title of the second album by the British band, the Senseless Things. In 2004, a Milwaukee blogger (and apparent Vonnegut fan) calling himself "Billy Pilgrim" appropriated it for his site.

For good measure, you can find an archive of Gilbert's "True Artist Tales" here (although the online archive includes only those strips from 1998 to present).

UPDATE (11/07/07): Scott Gilbert, upon reading the piece above, writes with one additional memory:

When the Mekons played [in Houston] at Emo's in 1993, I gave them an "Empire" shirt, which they much appreciated and showed off at the beginning of their set. It was a lovely turn of the ironic cycle.