This week marks the one-year anniversary, more or less, of our trivial excercises. I thank you all for playing and invite you all to enjoy some imaginary champagne.

In keeping with a tradition of meaninglessness, there is nothing particularly special or seasonally appropriate about today's Quiz.

In Westminster Abbey's "Poet's Corner", three American writers are memorialized, though none of the three are buried there. Two of them died as British subjects -- one was buried in England, the other in America.

The third, also buried in the U.S., never became a British subject. Who is was it?

The first correct answer to comments wins an unopened pack of Budweiser playing card, featuring on the reverse of each card a representation of that extremely annoying computer-animated lizard that was, for some inexplicable reason, the center of a multimillion-dollar advertising campaign. As usual, stay thy cursor from the Google toolbar, retrieve not your Let's Go London from the shelf, and resist the temptation to phone Harold Bloom (such mere factoids are, I am sure, beneath his notice anyway). One guess per comment, but comment as many times as you like.

A follow-up bonus question: William Shakespeare wasn't memorialized in the Abbey until 124 years after his death. Another beloved English writer had to wait even longer, 145 years, before a plaque was put up in his memory. Whom does the plaque commemorate?

I walked into my office building the other day behind a pair of women engaged in a spirited discussion of what liquors would make appropriate purchases for some upcoming gathering. When one suggested Grey Goose vodka, the other, in a voice which had qualities reminiscent of a roughly idling cement truck, informed her pal that she was buying "nothing from the French" because they are "disloyal to their friends" and "went against us in the U.N." She opined that we had to "hit them in the pocketbook," where it hurts, and, after a pause, added the phrase "dirty beasts."

One suspects her to be a regular reader of New York Post columnist Cindy Adams, whose Francophobe rant of last week seems to have something in common with the aforementioned anti-Gallic sentiments.

Ms. Adams, when not crusading against the infamous traitors in Paris, is celebrating the publication of her new book, which turns to the image of loyalty itself, embodied as it only can be by (wo)man's best friend.

Rory was brave enough, the other day, to put in pixels his witty two cents (two pee, I suppose, in the U.K.) about the likely forthcoming hostilities. I use "brave" not in the sense of political courage -- the pressure for a pro-war consensus isn't yet that great even here, and indeed quite the reverse, I gather, where he's writing from.

But I say "brave" simply to indicate the fact that in trying to address what one thinks about War on/in Iraq (to say nothing about how one feels about it, a related but slightly separate question), any thoughtful person courts a number of rhetorical disasters. Being too simplistic. Repeating what others have said, ad nauseam (thus laying oneself open to being Pollacked). Getting lost in the complexity and revealing the insufficiency of one's grasp of everything from the current state of Middle Eastern political opinion to the depths of Western iniquity vis-a-vis installing and supporting Saddam Hussein in the past. Revealing a corrosive cynicism or a hopeless, chumplike innocence.

For crying out loud. I had an easier time summarizing my dissertation topic than I do trying to articulate what I think (at any given, fleeting moment) about the current crisis. Would that one could simply invoke Walt Whitman and, being large, contain multitudes. Whitman won't, much to my chagrin, always come when invoked (or if he does, it often becomes apparent that he's not much help after all). So one is left with a choice: try to lay out your position in words that you won't look back on with a cringe once the bombs start falling; or own up to your inability to wrap an argument around your feelings, and point to some people who seem to have a better handle on this making arguments thing.

Though it's doubtless simply another species of folly, let me try to split the difference, first by pointing to a bunch of people (mostly pointed out to me by others I often link to [see above]) who make at least partial sense to me on the issues. Friedman doesn't make a hawk out of me, but makes some good points about where the Bushies have been going wrong even from a hawk perspective. Dr. Green (who cites TF), challenges the antiwar consensus cogently (scroll down to his March 18 post), and Ian McEwan does some similar work.

These essays all have in common the premise that Hussein's removal is necessary for multiple reasons, and that the left cannot pretend that leaving him in power yet "contained" is a truly good solution. I have always argued that the political origins of the campaign for Gulf War II corrupt the whole enterprise; but I'm swayed by the simple logic that while the Bush administration's motives may not be pure, that alone doesn't invalidate the notion that the international community can intervene in Iraq -- even given past U.S. support of Hussein.

But I come back to a few thoughts, some of which are echoes of the above articles/arguments, and some of which deviate significantly:

1. The manner in which the U.S. government has approached the U.N. and the international community over this seems to have been designed to fail. It looks unlikely that there will be a U.N. Security Council majority to back a resolution unambiguously calling for the invasion of Iraq. Of course there's almost no chance at this point the U.S. will back down, whatever the U.N. does. But whatever good we do in Iraq will be so utterly compromised by the ill will we have/will have generated throughout the world that the damage to our alliances and to international cooperation as a whole could last for a very long period of time. This has to be rebuilt, and American voters have to be made to understand the damage to our nation that's been done.

2. No one in the administration is willing to account for the question of how Iraq might be administered after we have "taken out" Hussein. The left needs to start demanding answers on this.

3. Those things being said, it is too easy to oppose removing Hussein from power just because Bush and Co. want it done. They want it done for the wrong reasons -- I do believe this is fundamentally political. But that doesn't necessarily mean that it shouldn't have been done a long time ago.

But:

4. No one (in the administration) has addressed the most obvious moral question: given that Hussein is (everyone stipulates) unjustly oppressing Iraqis, without their consent; and given that the overriding reason given by the administration for invading are actions undertaken only by the top leadership of the B'aathists -- the weapons of mass destruction, the (supposed) links to Al Qaeda, and the crimes against Iraqis -- given these things, the question is how many ordinary Iraqis is it OK to kill in order to rid the world of Hussein? 1,000? 5,000? 10,000? More? We've made it clear that our quarrel isn't with them -- it's with the butcher who has been oppressing them for years. But they are the ones who will die; and we haven't, to the best of my knowledge, cleared that with them.

5. #4 sticks in my craw as a pretty potent moral objection to letting the dogs out. I have another objection, though, a practical one -- already voiced by a million others. This war will only seem "provoked" by those who can interpret the jousting over inspections and sanctions as Hussein daring the West to fight him. To Muslims all over the world, this looks "unprovoked" and will, I think, cement what is already suspected -- that the U.S. is coming for them next. I am afraid of making that many enemies. In a world of cheap high explosive, I am afraid of instilling that much fear. If that makes me sound like a coward and an appeaser, then there it is.

This is the last I'll write on the subject, at least until the dying starts.

In February of 1916, famous anarchist and activist Emma Goldman was arrested in New York City for violating the 1873 Comstock Law. A few days later, she said to the press, "When a law has outgrown time and necessity, it must go and the only way to get rid of the law is to awaken the public to the fact that it has outlived its purpose and that is precisely what I have been doing and mean to do in the future."

The Comstock Law banned the transportation of certain materials through the mails. What, specifically, was Goldman doing that was seen as violating that law?

First correct answer posted to comments wins a beautiful insulated coffee mug embossed with the title of Ronald Anthony's new romance blockbuster The Forever Year in lovely chrome-colored plastic.

Our own antiquated Womstock Law forbids Googling, Encarta-ing, or casting runes to get the answer. One guess per comment, but post as many comments as you like.

The Amazing Laws of Cosmic Mind Power

SUMMARY:

1. Non-amazing uses of Cosmic Mind Power are subject to local ordinance 5473-2002(b) and must be accompanied by a permit from the Office of Subliminality and Psychokinesis.

2. As long as you live under my roof, young man, you don't bring that hippy-dippy crap around here! Understood?

3. Cosmic Mind Power should not be combined with St. John's Wort, Gingko Biloba, Kava-Kava, Red Dye No. 4, Dr. Bronner's Liquid Soap (All-Truth! All-One!), Eddie Vedder, or the stuff they hose down the subway cars with.

4. If you have Cosmic Mind Power, and you know it, clap your hands. But do it only in your mind.

5. In a closed system, Cosmic Mind Power, amazingly, can never decrease.

6. All fowls that creep, going upon all four, shall be an abomination unto you.

7. Cosmic Mind Power is everywhere and nowhere. Would you discover Cosmic Mind Power? First you must learn to hear the sound of raindrops growing in the sky!

8. Cosmic Mind Power is provided on an "as is" and "as available" basis. Cosmic Mind Power makes no representations or warranties of any kind, express or implied, as to the efficacies, potency, duration, profitability, usefulness, "reality," or non-Satanicity of Cosmic Mind Power. Cosmic Mind Power will not be liable for any damages, emotional scarring, disappointments, demonic possessions, disillusionments, or time-space anomalies caused by, associated with, or in the vicinity of the use of Cosmic Mind Power.
   

Our friend Josh passes along this, with the understandable addendum, "I am moving to West Virginia."

War and weather: it seems like that's all we got around her by way of news this weekend was Powell and Powder, Blizzard and Buildup. "President's Day" is generally commemorated in this land by the airing of national slogans such as "It doesn't take an executive order to save up to 50% on all name-brand appliances" and "I cannot tell a lie -- these prices are OUTRAGEOUS!" But between the drumbeats and the snowfall, I almost forgot we were off of work today for some other reason.

A social miscalculation resulted in our missing the opportunity to attend the whomping huge peace rally on Saturday. I would like to hereby register that peculiar emotion somewhere between shame, disappointment, and the resigned understanding that it on the whole my absence doesn't make much difference. My quiet applause to those of you who froze your faces off while we played lego with David, Karen, and their charming daughter.

Predictably, all the time spent indoors this weekend did not produce much in the way of quality writing on my part, though it did open the door to my almost-banished former addiction to The Blood-Pressure-Raiser. Sadly, Rory's emotional screen-capture of the experience of reading MeFi remains true, and as I found myself getting drawn into a doomed 'discussion', I wondered for the nth time whether this whole interconnectivity through the magic of computers won't eventually be scrapped in favor of some more productive communal activity, like napping.

("Hey," we'll say to each other, waking briefly from a delightful siesta. "Remember the Internet?" And we'll reply, "Whazza...? Dunno...I'm tryin'a slee...zzz....")

Eventually I tore myself away from such torture, I went out in the preposterous and lovely snow. And though I am not much with the camera, I took a few pictures.

***

Seen recently:

Lucian Freud, Drawings 1940 -- Matthew Marks Gallery

Playful, affecting, one-offs and doodle-ish bits. Liked it a bunch. Personal favorite: "Whale Having Tea." A happy little whale, having tea, by Lucian Freud. Made my afternoon.

Uncle Vanya -- Donmar Warehouse at Brooklyn Academy of Music. Chekov, translation by Brian Friel.

Friel's translation is as great as one might have hoped -- brings out as much as possible of the funny in the play, but completely naturally. Simon Russell Beale is terrific as the manic-depressive Vanya, but it's really an ensemble performance, with good turns from everybody. I'd have liked to have seen Emily Watson as Yelena rather than Sonya, but whatever. Also, excellent field of tall grass which the light plays over to dreamy effect. The ending dr-a-a-gs, though.

Here it is, Wombatlings -- today's pointless puzzle, formulated to distract you from unpleasantly meaningful work:

Frank Gusenberg, Pete Gusenberg, James Clark, Adam Heyer, Al Weinshank, and Reinhardt Schwimmer all had something in common, something connected to a wall of bricks, left over from a demolished warehouse, which was bought in 1967 by a Canadian businessman and later reconstructed in the men's room of his establishment, the "Banjo Palace."

What connects these men and the bricks in this wall?

The first correct answer posted to comments wins a copy of Sun-Tzu's Art of War (perfect for Valentine's Day!). Remember that Googling, phoning the NY Public Library's Reference Desk, or asking the weird kid who's so damn QUIET all the time are all forbidden behaviors. One guess per comment, but you may comment as often as you wish.

There's something about this story of a seat-saving brou-ha-ha* involving Ted Koppel and some saved seats at a DC-area showing of The Quiet American which bears noting. The first is the way it highlights the presumption that Fame Hath its Privileges. The second is the interesting fact that the management of the theater in question couldn't have found a better way to handle this (some free passes to entice the woman to give up her seat).

The third is the subtle double-sidedness in Grove's retelling. His opening sentence seems to raise an eyebrow at the Hollywood-like granting of special privileges to Koppel and family because of their star status. But don't think he's taking sides -- the woman who wouldn't give up her seat was "prosperous-looking" and Grove refers to her later as a "poacher." A witness tells Grove that Koppel was "very gracious" and gets off a quip about seeing the Ugly American at a showing of The Quiet American. Ultimately, the whole thing reads as a smarmy dig at a nameless person who made the social mistake of not respecting the superiority of celebrity.

One has to ask: Why attack her? Perhaps she was an ungracious and pushing woman, who acted more brashly than I would have. But it sounds like she called the theater manager's bluff -- reserved seats my ass! -- and won. Tough luck for TK and all that, but isn't the story here a comical one about how a bumbling theater tried -- and, interestingly, failed! -- to toady to a TV personality by offering him a privilege it would never, in a million years, have extended to an ordinary person?

(Looking back over the above, it appears that I'm making much ado about nothing, in a not very entertaining manner. Well, they can't ALL be quality posts...)

*First and last use of "brou-ha-ha" in this space

The city's bizarre response to the planned anti-war rally this Saturday has been studded with claims that are as maddening as they are laughable. Well, the city and a Federal Judge. The city basically admits they are banning all "protest marches" south of 59th Street (which is, presumably, the northern edge of Buildings Which House Institutions Likely to Be Subject to Protest*).

Their argument seems to be, variously (1) the city can't afford a protest march right now, because it costs too much to pay the cops to police the area, and (2) the U.N. is too much of a terrorist target to let anybody march past it.

(1) is illogical -- the government cannot plead poverty as an excuse for denying a first amendment right. Perhaps next the State of New York will announce that convening trials by jury is getting a little too pricey, and that we're all going to have to tighten our belts for a while and live with single-judge tribunals or, perhaps, automated Verdict Kiosks.

(2) is not so much a piece of categorical nonsense as it is just more of the creeping "Patriots accept an indefinite state of heightened security" attitude which has allowed the government to forbid access by default in the name of security. Does any intelligence or security professional in this country believe that a large-scale, well organized peace march is the likely setting for a bomb attack on the United Nations? Is there any precedent for this? Nobody's asking to walk into the lobby and take the curtains off of Guernica, anyhow.

So, the upshot is we're all supposed to be sort of fenced in to some designated area. Assuming a large number of people show, this could be a really interesting challenge to public safety, of the kind Mayor Bloomberg is less interested in. Let's all agree that if you're up near the police barriers, you'll take extra care, and "Oh god I'm being crushed to death" should not be interpreted as a tritely metaphorical expression of one's political suffering.

Well, while we're all walking legally to our Approved Protest Pens we can at least choose from a host of interesting Feeder Marches. You can be superfreaky revolutionary with the Eco/Erotic Noise Brigade, or arrive in a more sedate manner with the Interfaith Ministers for Peace. If you are instead looking to be part of the Mardi Gras Carnival Bloc Feeder, please be aware that it is going to be far too cold for any of the ladies to be showing off their naughty bits.

Theresa and I will be there as the "Outraged Park Slopers Who Don't Get Out Much Action League." My tentative sign plan is SATURATION BOMBING MAKES BABY JESUS CRY. But that's just an early draft: suggestions welcome.

*Of course, if anyone wants to head up the Upper East Side to march on the Guggenheim in protest of double-digit art museum ticket prices, sign me up!

Literary Exhaustion Clearinghouse

**All Concepts MUST GO**

With nearly all that might have been done and said by mankind pretty much wrapped up at this point, we're offering radical markdowns on our remaining conceptual inventory. These remaindered and overlooked literary notions are available at fractions of the cost in creativity and expertise which would be required for a premium book idea; these are low-investment, high-value opportunities to stake out mindshare. NOTE:Concepts are provided "as-is." All sales are final.

STILL AVAILABLE: Uncompelling Thriller & Mystery Titles -- They weren't good enough for Grisham: but they'll do for you!

Duck, Duck, Goose
Snacks of Deception
Mild Unease
Allergic to Murder (note: entire "Allergic to..." series about a detective with acute environmental sensititivity is also available)
The Chafing and Golden Bond: The Chafing 2
Rage of Enragement
'Til Someone Loses an Eye
...And The Joker Got Away
Verdict: Malfeasance

JUST IN: "Bottom of the Barrel" Romance -- Sows' ears ready for the silk-purse imagination!

Regrettable Decision
The Acerbic Highlander
His Moist Palm
A Flunky's Embrace
My Devil Rotarian
The Pirate Who Dithered

MANAGER'S SPECIAL: Children's Book Ideas 99% off -- Take them off our hands!

The Berenstain Bears Order Digital Cable
The Littlest Prion
Attorney General John Ashcroft's Cover-It-Up-for-Decency Art Book (with stickers)
Who Wants Yummy Dyna-Flex Mass Builder Amino Powder(tm)? ***SOLD***
Let's Pinch the Baby!

REFERENCE SHELF CLOSEOUT: The Only Instructional and Self-Help Book Subjects Not Yet Published Already -- Offer only stands for the next 20 minutes

Play the Blame Game -- and Win!
2003 CB Radio Buyer's Guide
Sweater Vests for Dummies
I Replaced All of My Clothing Fasteners with Velcro -- Now What?
Enraged Phone-Throwing for Investment Pros

Act now -- these FINAL REMAINING CONCEPTS will soon be GONE FOREVER and there will be absolutely no reason for anyone to publish anything more, ever.

NOTE: Internet connectivity at the office today is likely to be uncertain, as we were down all day yesterday. So, if I'm not able to check in on the answers quickly, please be patient.

At a certain point in the first half of the twentieth century, an idea by a man who was later credited (by some) with saving Europe suggested the creation of a nationwide non-profit for a certain purpose. Shortly thereafter, several institutions (one of which was the Salvation Army; another was the National Jewish Welfare Board) collaboratively founded a new organization, for precisely this purpose, which was "endorsed" by the President. Interest in serving this organization grew rapidly, to peak at over 750,000 volunteers. The organization operated over 3000 service centers, one of which became so famous that it inspired a movie featuring, among others, Groucho Marx. Centers combined both secular and religious pursuits.

After it had been active for seven years, the organization was disbanded for four years, and then reinstated. In the 1970's the "founding organizations" withdrew, and a revised congressional charter for the organization was signed into law. It remains active today.

What is the name of this organization?

First correct answer posted to comments wins a packet of Andy Capp's Salsa Fries from the machine at 76 Ninth Avenue. No Googling, yahoosiery, Lycosification, or consulting the dead using bell, book, and candle. One guess per comment, though you may comment as often as you like.

We've all been there. The stress of everyday life becomes overwhelming. The neighbors call to complain about the odor of the compost heap. Your entire department has to go on a team-building exercise at the Renaissance Faire, and you've got an allergy to burlap. The bills for the dog's laser eye surgery are marked FINAL NOTICE -- and you wish you hadn't told them to go ahead and cap his teeth, too.

It's days like this when want to settle down with a nice, soothing Vampire Hunter Romance novel or two. So you hit the bookstore on your way home from work, haul out the gift certificate you won at the office holiday party, and get set to reward yourself! But here's the catch: how to choose? Shelf after shelf of Vampire Romance and Vampire Hunter Romance beckons -- do you go with Laurell K. Hamilton? Karen E. Taylor? The Carpathian hereos of Christine Feehan? What about Maggie Shayne -- she's a comer! Susan Sizemore? Stop the madness -- you need some help!

And help you shall have. In the interest of providing the reading public with a quick and accurate reference, suitable for printing and clipping so that it can be carried in one's wallet and consulted at a moment's notice, I give you:

The 2003 Wombat File Field Guide to Vampire Hunter Romance Authors

Laurell K. Hamilton -- Hamilton is the uber-popular Janet Evanovich of the Nosferatu set. Her wisecracking heroine, Vampire Hunter Anita Blake, lives in a world where the Supreme Court protects the rights of the undead (and we're not just referring to Dick Cheney).

Yet, despite her totally original and unique fictional calling, Anita's biggest concern is negotiating the uncertainties of dating multiple hunks, all of whom happen to be supernatural creatures of one kind or another:

"If I didn't know you loved me, this would be easier," he said. "If it wasn't for that damned vampire, you'd marry me."
"That damned vampire introduced us," I said.

Hamilton's leading lady has a notable preference for the successful professional in her men: her competing boyfriends are a "master vampire" and an "alpha werewolf," just in case anyone thought she dated junior management.

Karen E. Taylor -- "If you'll remember, Mitch and I never had a chance because he couldn't accept my unusual night life. But now he's going to have to. Because the only way I can save Mitch is by converting him." Taylor's heroines are vampiresses, and opposites attract -- unlike mortal Anita Blake, who likes her trade roughly damned for all time, Taylor's bat-babes get hot for mortal men. Make no mistake -- just because her fifth book, The Vampire Vivienne, has a title that sounds like the made-for-cable version of any one of a bunch by a certain scribe in the Big Easy, and features an immortal heroine who was (surprise!) initiated into vamp-dom amid the periwigged decadence of Bourbon France, you needn't worry that you're going to get long, turgid, heavy-on-the-kink tales of deathless, omnisexual godlings. In Taylor's hands, the sentences are declarative, the vampires not prone to melancholic fits, and eternity is finished as quickly as a box of Snackwells.

Christine Feehan -- It's all about the Soul Mate: "He was the Dark Guardian of his people. So how, after centuries of bleak, soulless existence, had he suddenly come to crave petite, curvy, colorful lady cop Jaxon Montgomery, who foolishly made it her life’s work to protect others from harm?" Dude, if you think you are a man, you have not encountered one of Feehan's heroes. The Carpathian vampire-warrior-gaurdians-of-something-or-other are not just immortal scions of the darkness who burn with the grim fires of their terrible heritage. They are also MAJOR HOTTIES ON A BOOTY-MISSION. Hear me now: each Carpathian male must, repeat must, find his soul mate somewhere out there down the long centuries. These are men who are not afraid of commitment. Note: Feehanites are able to identify one another in the wild by means of special garments.

Susan Sizemore -- "Istvan was born a dhampire, having been the issue of a vampire father and a mortal mother..." See, in these books, the hook is that the vampires sort of have to police themselves and certain special vampires use their powers to do justice against evil vampires, even though this makes them outcasts, and plus there's a beautiful lady cop. It's a lot like the Rockford Files, only not very funny and no James Garner and there are vampires.

Maggie Shayne-- Vampires, vampires. Vampires in love. Whole-wheat vampires. Headphone vampires. Vampire shower cap happy vampire funny car toolbar vampire vampire vampire...

Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head as performed in 1970 on an IBM 1403 Printer. (Via the agora)