[note: this column was originally written on June 1st, and revised for posting on the 21st]

So I woke up smelling the sweet air of liberty in Merry Old Monarchical England, and opened up The Guardian over my morning toast and tea. And it hits me.

I finally know why we are in Iraq.

Or at least I think I do. It came to me as I was reading the bloody, awful details of the latest Al Qaeda massacre in Khobar, S.A. It was before my very eyes the entire time, but because I couldn’t breath in the mephitic fog of lies spewing forth from Washington, I couldn’t make out anything but the barest outlines of the story.

Could it be that Saudi Arabia really is about to implode in bloody chaos? Do we need any other evidence for this other than the simple fact that the Saudi security forces appear to be actively aiding and abetting Al Qaeda in their kidnap-and-slaughter campaign of Westerners? That the monarchy over there is evidently doing basically nothing to bring its army to heel? That the king hasn’t been heard from in months? And that all of this was, at least for a brief moment, done in such an obvious manner as to be unignorable by even the “we’re-puckering-up-so’s-to-keep-kissing-the-administration’s-ass-because-heavan-forbid-anyone-think-we’re-biased-liberals” U.S. media?

If this is true, then for reasons of national and international security, we – the United States America, the world’s one remaining superpower – must have at least 100,000 troops on the ground in the Middle East. This would explain why:
i.) the administration will not speak candidly about this. Indeed, it suggests that the U.S. must go to great lengths to deceive everyone on the planet about the real reason why we have decided to make Iraq an American colony. Also, it would explain why
ii.) the presumptive Democratic nominee, John Kerry – indeed, so far as I can tell, much of the Democratic establishment – has publicly criticized only the execution of the war, not the fundamental reasons behind the war.

So, yes, it is “about the oil.” It was always “about the oil” (like the wag said: Oil in Somalia, oil in Iraq. No oil in Bosnia. Or Rwanda. Or western Sudan. Get it?). But it is not about Halliburton oil, or at least it ought not to be about the Veep’s corporate cronies (see NYT, 6/14/04, “White House Officials and Cheney Aide Approved Halliburton Contract in Iraq, Pentagon Says”). This is about “national security oil.” And until and unless we can wean ourselves off this goddamned habit, it will remain “about the oil.”

It is also, most definitely, not about the “war on terror.” Oh, no, not by a long shot. Who gives a shit about some skinny-assed billionaire fanatic hiding in a cave in the mountains of Afghanistan, or some right-wing nutjob mailing little care packages of fancy brown powder from suburban New Jersey to the Congressional Democratic leadership, or hell, even crazy Texans stockpiling guns and bombs and cyanide in the I-wish-I-were-making-this-up town of Noonday (for the latter, see Paul Krugman’s NYT column for 6/22/04). Indeed, who cares about all that when our economy is on the line?

If in fact Saudi Arabia is about to implode, then it is imperative that we do this right, and that we do it now. By “it” I mean have as many troops ready to roll across the desert at a moment’s notice. Not “in a week,” or “when the U.N. approves an intervention,” or “after the election,” but now.

George II, it is true, remains an incompetent, grasping, theocratic monkey (the image of the ape wearing the tattered and bloody lion-skin in C. S. Lewis’s The Last Battle comes to mind here). It is also true that he must also be thrown out of office in November if we are to salvage any semblance of liberty, equality, and democracy for the future of our nation. But I can now finally, albeit reluctantly, see why occupying Iraq may in fact be a necessity.

But I am not happy about it, and I am as surprised as anyone that I have turned, at least for the moment, into a national security hawk…

[Note: this all seemed so obvious when I read it in the papers in England on June 1st. Now that I am back in the land of bread and circuses, it has become fuzzy and indistinct, and I am less confident of what was so clear from the deck of Airstrip One. It is harder now to tell what’s going on at the edges of the imperium, out beyond where I can see through the SUV-produced smog and the Fox-produced lies. Maybe George II really is just a buffoon, who’s pursuing some oedipal pipe dream/grandiose neo-con world domination strategy/wacko Tim LeHaye-inspired millenarian project, and is simply using the blood of our fighting men and women to do it. Maybe the Saudi government is fine, and the Iraq war was just a big fucking mistake.]

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There was a line that NBC used several years back to tout the reruns on its Thursday night “Must See TV” lineup: “If you haven’t seen it, it’s new to you.” On one level, there’s nothing novel or unique that Mikuni offers. Given that hip, eclectic and upscale sushi bars have multiplied all around the San Francisco Bay Area and serving “fusion” rolls stuffed with everything but pig’s lips, Mikuni becomes just one of many sporting this theme. However, what does make Mikuni new and novel is its appearance in Sacramento. While we’re certainly not insular here in the Capital city, some of us did end up voting for KFC as the city’s best fried chicken, a fact that none of us should really be proud of.

As this is the first review for the Decadent Fob column and as I’ve only been to Mikuni on one occasion, I won’t make any in-depth critical conclusions. What I will say, however, is that Mikuni, while not necessarily a stand out compared to its Pacific fusion brethren in the Bay Area, has many strengths. It has a large selection of rolls, fresh ingredients, a relatively attentive wait staff and creative non-sushi dishes. One caveat would pertain to the noise level. The hard, flat and angular facets of the dining room seem suited to make eardrums ache from the high decibel levels generated by the chatter of a busy weekend evening. If you have sensitive ear drums or want to be able to enjoy the conversation with your dining companions, avoid peak hours.

What seems like East-West fusion at Mikuni is much more Oriental than Occidental and runs from inoffensive to surprisingly pleasant. Fusion can be difficult to do as ingredients are taken out of context. Creativity and flair may actually ruin the experience as some chefs forget that taste should really count for more than anything else. If horseshoe crab eggs on scrapple patties haven’t been tried before, there’s probably a good reason why. One of the tricks in fusion is to find a good combination of ingredients previously estranged and to combine them in a pleasing way. Although most items on the Mikuni menu are more “creative Japanese” than East-West fusion cuisine, those that are truly part of the latter group lean more heavily on Eastern influences and thus lessening the chances of a cross-cultural culinary dud coming across the plate.

Don’t go to Mikuni expecting to eat on the cheap. Apparently, there’s a premium when you’re the first one on the block. Guinness Paul and I ended up with a $115 bill including tax and tip. This included one bottle of premium sake and the dishes mentioned in previous installments of this review. That’s one of the “problems” with sushi; you wonder how much it would cost if they actually cooked some of the ingredients. But good raw fish and high prices go hand in hand whether you’re in a gourmand metropolis like San Francisco or in an up and coming Central Valley town with its own international airport. Despite all the multiple dishes ordered, I still had the hankering for some high-calorie food porn at Rick’s Dessert Diner. So, gluttons and overeaters be forewarned.

In short, if you’ve made your share of visits to the various sushi-fusion establishments around the state, Mikuni will offer nothing new. But if you voted for KFC as Sacramento’s best fried chicken, I think there might be a few surprises for you in store at Mikuni. After all, if you haven’t seen it before, it’s new to you. Right?

For Next Time: The Decadent Fob indulges in gluttony at the all-American buffet!

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[Note: this column was written in Oxford on June 1st, and revised for posting on the 10th],

Hullo from Greece. Which is to say, England.

So what is it like not to live under the thumb of John Ashcroft? Now, it may be the case that Scotland Yard, or MI6, or even the Thames Valley Police have me under surveillance right at this very moment, but if they do, I wouldn’t know it:

Item: I have yet to see a bobbie — not even at the airport, for crying out loud — and I’ve been in this country over a week.

Item: I sauntered, sauntered I say, through Immigration. Yes, they asked to see my passport, and yes, they asked where and for how long I would be staying, but once I said “two weeks” and gave the name of a guest house in Oxford, they waved me through. The whole process took approximately 90 seconds. Now, maybe it was the fact that I am white. Or maybe it was the fact that I flashed the magic blue eagle that says “I am an American! And I came here to spend money!” Or maybe it was the fact that I am not obviously Muslim (after all, I am beardless, and my mother — that shameless woman — speaks freely and shows her hair and face before all the world). But I’m not so sure. After all, isn’t this the country that faced regular bombing by the IRA? And wasn’t Richard Reid, the shoe bomber guy, traveling on a Kennedy-to-Heathrow flight (as I did)? I don’t know, what with John Walker Lindh, and Adam whateverhisnameis (Gadahn?), they ought to be profiling brunette Protestant white boys from California — i.e., me. Just a thought.

Item: They weren’t actually checking bags at all at Customs. That’s right, I could have been smuggling in gold dust, or cocaine, or copies of the Koran, or hooch, or kiddy porn, but Her Majesty would never have been the wiser.

Of course, Johnny Ashcroft, defender of our constitutional rights and liberties, would have known. How? Because his petty flunkies at the TSA lawfully seized and searched both my bags for the privilege — nay the apparent necessity — of rifling my freshly laundered underwear. Of which fact they were so kind to inform me by placing a little calling card inside my suitcases. How thoughtful.

For this we fought a long and bloody war against capricious tyrrany? So that I may know that my private belongings were pawed over by jack-booted agents of the state? Heaven, and our tattered Constitution, help us.

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My mother received an e-mail awhile back; one of those “save Sesame Street!” type e-petitions which is useful (sort of) for getting people’s dander up, but next to useless for effecting real political change.* But this time, the subject wasn’t PBS, it was internet taxation. And the tagline was “Don’t let them tax the internet too! Don’t those thieves in Washington DC have enough of your money already?”

To which my mother responded (good bleeding-heart liberal that she is), “No, in fact, they don’t.”

Now, let’s leave aside for the moment the fact that it wasn’t even clear from the original e-petition what kind of tax was being floated (use, sales, etc.). I didn’t write this column to debate the virtues or vices of internet taxation per se.** Instead, I want to talk about taxation more generally.

I confess I find the equation of taxation and theft to be an interesting idea theoretically (hell, I might even go so far as to admit that it is superficially an accurate metaphor). Ultimately, though, it is a vicious and pernicious assault upon the commonweal.

This is one argument that the Republicans always seem to win. “Tax cuts, tax cuts!” they cry, and everyone goes running to punch their chads for the GOP on the theory that the alternative (the Democrats) are a bunch of wild-eyed crazy spenders who will give away the store to every lazy, freeloading, non-working, non-taxpaying sumbitch on the planet. Take George II’s current campaign as an example. A portion of his ads tout the fact that Kerry voted to raise taxes “350 times” or somesuch – the number doesn’t matter, what matters is that Kerry is a tax-and-spend liberal (and an indecisive one at that!) who will pick your pocket for every last one of your hard-earned dollars he can get his grubby little Frenchified hands on.

Never mind the fact that, even when the Democrats were run by true liberals instead of the DNC centrists currently in charge of things, this accusation was false. Never mind the fact that, the current administration (not to mention that vaunted beacon of true Republican values, Ronald Reagan) has spent us into deficit oblivion and has given the lie to the idea that Republicans as a class are upstanding examples of fiscal rectitude.

What is important is that this kind of rhetorical tactic (part of a larger strategy of downsizing government) leads to deficits, fiscal irresponsibility on a scale such that even Alan Greenspan can’t excuse it; the underfunding of all government programs (social, military, farm subsidies, you name it), and ultimately a public disengagement from a shared commitment to public goods. I find this a dangerous and ugly direction in which to take our country. I do not think it will lead to anything but a nastier, more brutish, and ultimately indecent world.

Oh, I understand the philosophical underpinnings of this argument (Smith and Rand). I simply disagree with them. I, for one, am happy to pay for: better schools; roads that don’t have potholes; garbage and recycling that gets picked up every week; firepersons to protect my life and property; police to patrol the streets, courts to dispense justice, and penitentiaries to reform wrongdoers; clean water in the tap and in our rivers; public parks where I may perambulate at my pleasure; an army that takes pride in its prowess and its honor; a public health system that immunizes every child and works to make my own life longer; etc.

But more to the point, I am happy to pay for: the education of others’ ignorant brats; roads that take other people places I would never want to go; the picking up of other people’s waste; the dousing of other people’s lit-through-carelessness fires; the dispensation of all of society’s justice, not just that which pertains to me; the sweetness of others’ taps and the salubrity of other states’ streams; the recreational pleasures of people I will never meet and would not care to know even if I did; wars I would not have chosen to fight if it were my decision alone; and, yes, the rehabilitation and treatment of drug addicts, others’ abortions, and the dumb-ass irresponsibility of people when it comes to food, cigarettes, or STDs.

Yes, I am happy to pay for all of that and more. Because I live in a society, not in some goddamned little fantasy bailiwick fortified away from the troubles and trials of other people. And for the pleasure of living in the company of others, especially in a nation as great as America, I am happy to plunk down dollar after dollar to make our society decent. To do otherwise is, to be quite precise about the matter, selfish. And selfishness is no virtue, no matter what Ayn said. If you don’t want to live in a society, and to pay for the privilege of doing so, then for heaven’s sake buy yourself an island in the South Seas and declare yourself a nation. But don’t make my society brutish and ugly because you’re too small-minded to be decent.

*Want to make a real difference, people? Fuckin’ vote already. Write a good old-fashioned letter to your elected official. Call their district office and voice your opinion to whatever underpaid flunky is stuck answering the phones listening to blowhard constituents. Even better, get together with a friend and bitch to your heart’s content about (a) what’s wrong with the world, and (b) what to do about it. Yeah, it’s a pain, but too bad; democracy is hard work.

**I actually think taxation of the internet is, in fact, a bad idea, but not because it’s “theft.” I think it is a bad idea because it would constitute a tax on communication and the free exchange of information between citizens and citizens, and elites and mass publics. In other words, it would constitute an infringement upon civil liberties and civil society.

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The last two times I have gotten gas in Sacramento California, I have paid $2.21 a gallon for eighty-seven octane. This was the cheapest I have found, though my search has not been exhaustive. This seems like a lot, and it is, but let’s throw things into some perspective.

Let’s just pretend that we live in 1955, for example. We all drive big heavy machines that get somewhere around ten to fifteen miles to the gallon. Gas is pretty expensive at about twenty-seven cents a gallon, but for some reason that doesn’t really bother us too much. We are just thrilled to be living with our big powerful machines.

Snap back to the present. Gas is pretty expensive at around two dollars (nationwide, but more expensive with the California laws), and we all drive big heavy machines that get bad milage. That two dollars is less than the gas cost in the 1950’s and even less than that compared to the oil crunch in the ’70s. Are we happy this time? Not really. All people do is bitch about high prices and cry as they fill their humungo SUV so they will be able to haul the load from Starbucks. Thank goodness they opted for the HEMI. How else would they be able to get their dogs to the dog park?

We all know that prices in the United States are still cheaper than elsewhere. Europe is famed for its high prices, and let me tell you, it would suck to fill up the Family Strato-Cruiser, or whatever, there. In my checking I have found that last week prices in Europe ranged from $5.07 in France to $5.92 in the Netherlands. That’s expensive. We were so conditioned to the continued (relative) dropping of prices in the ’80s and ’90s that we forgot how good we had it.

Here’s the funny part. I heard that gas demand is actually up four percent this season. That’s silly. Why are you complaining and buying more gas? That’s goofy. Clearly, gas isn’t like bread. If one brand goes up you can’t just switch to another brand, or decide to forgo gas altogether, but it seems a little odd to me to complain about the prices and then do nothing so you can buy less of the product. I don’t think sales of sense crushing SUVs are on the decline in a big way. Perhaps it is early yet and the trend towards hybrid and other efficient vehicles will be on the rise. Hard to tell now. Maybe we’ll get lucky and cool cars like the Gremlin, Pacer, and the diesel VW Rabbit will make a comeback. Wouldn’t that be a treat? I guess they don’t have to be ugly, but if the Prius is any indication, they can’t look normal and still be good. Interesting.

I say continue to pump your fuel, you owners of mega-cars, but don’t complain about the cost. It just makes you look like a moron. It’s like me complaining about politics. If you want to bitch, get yourself a Mini or something, and complain it up.

Maybe you could just stop drinking milk. At three dollars a gallon it is robbery. Still, Gatorade looks worse still at $5.20. Gasoline compared to other regularly consumed liquids isn’t all that out of scope. Then again, when was the last time you drank twenty gallons of milk in a week?

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