There was some thought expressed last week of meeting the usual crew this evening at Harrington's when our get together fell apart last week. Am I up for Harrington's this afternoon or will I mope about feeling sorry for myself? I could. I'm capable of doing that and then writing about it at length right here in Oakland: the sun shining, the day looking as if it's going to be overly warm, the fan on the floor for the moment keeping body and soul comfortable and cool.

The Supreme Court affirmed habeas corpus this morning for the prisoners at Guantánamo, the rule that someone taken into custody has a right to have the accusations against him set forth within a reasonable period before a judge. A second opinion, in other words, that the charges make sense and the arresting authority hasn't gone off the reservation. In the history of free societies, habeas corpus is a big deal.

Easier to run things if you can just walk up to a bad guy, point a gun and put him in jail. No messy lawyers and courts. Now, in the middle of a battle, in the aftermath of a battle, that's the way it's done. If he looks like a bad guy you lock him up and take care of charging the bastard when the dust settles. But six years? For the life of what looks to be a never ending war? Given time, when heads are cooler, during the lull, there's that little matter of is he guilty or is he not? An issue decided over the centuries, before the rule of law and democracy came around, by dictators and kings in the same way, apparently, our current administration would have us go.

Enough? Please?

The problem with writing without an editor is the ease in which you can go off on something without, well, due consideration. Poor President Bush. I have this urge to call him a scum sucking pig in the employ of Satan himself, the anti-Christ come to lead us into the void. And then I straighten up, splash a little water on my face and collect my thoughts. The anti-Christ indeed. Poor bastard. Cheney is the anti-Christ, Bush is but his stooge.