Pretzel Logic: Andrew Sullivan Twists in His Own Wind

I have a jukebox in my head that is easily triggered. Today, as I was listening to Hugh Hewitt try to interview Andrew Sullivan about his new book, The Conservative Soul, the Steely Dan song Pretzel Logic repeated on a continuous inner loop that only I could hear.

Sullivan is one of our founding blogfathers and a prodigiously gifted writer. If weblogs are the most personal form of modern public writing, Sullivan is in large part responsible for breaking down barriers between blogger and reader. I used to be a daily visitor to his site, subscribed to his Weekly Dish and corresponded with him to voice my support. Then came Lawrence v. Texas, the imminent possibility of legally sanctioned gay marriage, and President Bush’s advocacy of a constitutional amendment to protect the marital status quo. With a swiftness that gave mental whiplash to loyal readers like me, Sullivan reversed himself on well documented, long held positions, such as his support of the Bush administration’s Iraq policy.

Sullivan soon turned to empty Clintonesque word games and the absurd pretense of being politically undecided during the 2004 election campaign until he endorsed John Kerry. The breathtaking candor that defined his pre-Lawrence writings has been overtaken, to my regret, by intellectual dishonesty. His blog has become so incoherent and colicky that it depresses me to read it. He seems to value controversy over consistency. I suspect he prefers to be the resentful outsider, a literary sniper taking potshots at those whose standing he begrudges.

Certainly Andrew has delighted in "Fisking" – one of his memorable additions to the bloggers’ lexicon – hypocritical figures elevated by the old media. Likewise I coined my own Sullivan-inspired phrase: to sully. Andrew has been spoiling for a fight with Hugh Hewitt since 2003 and today finally appeared on Hugh’s radio show with a different agenda than book promotion – to Fisk Hewitt as a “Christianist” apologist for the Bush administration. I have not read Sullivan’s blog for many months, but I am astonished that his aim is now so false.

Hugh is an essentially decent man and, in his misguided smear, Andrew draws unflattering comparisons upon himself. Hewitt is the hub of the center-right new media network and uses his considerable influence to serve humanity beyond the political realm. He relishes a well-matched debate and defends his philosophy wherever it is challenged without resorting to inflammatory rhetoric.

Since his ideological U-turn, Sullivan can be seen only in the public company of “yes men” like Chris Matthews and Bill Maher, who never require him to justify his positions – and Andrew’s self-imposed isolation has improved neither his debating skills nor his disposition. Varifrank offers a humorous recap of today's interview.

I feel sorry for Sullivan and assume that anyone so quick to scorn others probably loathes himself enough for both of us. He has carved out a new niche as the preeminent stalker of the conservative blogosphere, throwing rocks at his erstwhile friends’ windows and mistaking them for glass houses.

Meanwhile, my inner jukebox keeps playing these lyrics from Pretzel Logic.

They tell me he was lonely, he's lonely still
Those days are gone forever
Over a long time ago, oh yeah

I Love the 90s: Lloyd Cole

The first time I saw Lloyd Cole was with his 1980s band the Commotions in the video for Perfect Skin. He had a baby-faced look like Tim Finn but lacked the Finn brothers' overtly self-mocking humor. Cole was so sensitive that he seemed perpetually on the verge of tears.

Lloyd Cole was also a literate songwriter of very personal odes to romantic angst. His first two solo albums, the eponymous Lloyd Cole (1990) and Don't Get Weird on Me, Babe (1991), contained gems reminiscent of Lou Reed, Jimmy Webb and Chris Isaak, including She's a Girl and I'm a Man.

My personal favorite is No Blue Skies. Why this song failed to catapult Lloyd Cole into megastardom, I'll never understand.

Building a New Life

As you can see if you have visited before, my blog has a new look. I'm trying on new colors and, as is my prerogative, may continue to redecorate as Beta Blogger allows. I am in the process of restoring my old links and adding new favorites.

I haven't blogged much since American Idol ended, but the timing is strictly coincidental. Last June I began to undergo months of tests on my left hip and leg. Richard, my deaf brother who lives with us and belongs to the same medical group, had months of tests that resulted in surgery. As his sign language interpreter, I had to accompany him to every appointment and took a week off work to stay with him in the hospital. I immediately went from being an Elliott Yamin “groupie” to a medical groupie.

As my pain grew in severity, using my laptop computer became an act of masochism. What would I have written anyway? I would like to think I would have described my situation with as much grace and as little self-pity as Dean Barnett, who posted so touchingly of his battle against cystic fibrosis. But it is too easy, I have found, to become negative, impatient and self-absorbed when living with chronic pain. Humility comes with every wince, but optimism takes hard work, faith, and a sense of humor.

October 18, 2006 was my sixth wedding anniversary to the wonderful Luis – and the date I received confirmation that my breast cancer has spread to my hip.

I will have more to share as I begin this next phase of life. For now, I thank God as always for Luis, my family, my friends, and their support. I am truly blessed.

Free from 19E! Free from BMG!

Today is the date long awaited by Yaminions, E-Trainers and, I imagine, by the man himself -- Elliott Yamin Independence Day! From this day forward, Elliott is no longer contractually obligated to 19E and BMG. He is a free agent who can determine his own musical destiny.

Clive Davis, who recognized early greatness in Carlos Santana, Janis Joplin, Barry Manilow and Bruce Springsteen, took a pass on Elliott. His loss.

Therefore, I declare that August 25, 2006 is also Freedhem Day for Mr. Davis. You've seen the ad for FREEdHEM hemorrhoid cream tacked onto the end of that annoying Head On/Activ On commercial, haven't you? It's the cheapest cure for recording executives suffering from a swollen ego and schmidt for brains.

FREEdHEM. Apply directly to Clive's forehead. FREEdHEM. Apply directly to Clive's forehead. FREEdHEM. Apply directly to Clive's forehead.

Life of Surprises

Three years ago this month, when I began my chemotherapy treatment, I prayed that I would live long enough to turn 50. Prayed, yes, and hoped, but I dared not count on reaching such an ambitious milestone when the future was shrouded in fear and uncertainty.

Today I made it!

Perhaps I should have aimed higher.

Since June I have been undergoing tests to determine if my breast cancer has spread to my hip. Thus far there is no confirming diagnosis, but my doctors act as though my fate is sealed in embalming tape.

When I met my new oncologist in July, he asked about my age.

"I will be 50 on August 24th," I told him, feeling so grateful as always for the gift of time these past three years.

Glancing up from my chart, he said with a bracing look, "Well, you should make it to 50."

Next up: a PET scan tomorrow to determine if cancer has spread to my organs. But today I party! By party, I mean enjoy a prime rib dinner free of carbohydrates with my family in preparation for my pre-scan glucose injection.

My son turns 23 on Sunday, but he will spend that evening with friends while my gorgeous husband and I attend the American Idols Live concert starring Elliott Yamin and Taylor Hicks at the Arrowhead Pond. We'll celebrate his birthday on Saturday and I can indulge in all the carbs I want. Hmmm, Cheesecake Factory tiramisu.

As Paddy McAloon wrote, it's been a life of surprises. And I've got news for you, Doc -- it ain't over yet.

McAloon is the genius behind the best band nobody's ever heard of, Prefab Sprout. Please enjoy their video posted above, Life of Surprises.