HUGE

"Congress has not issued the executive a 'blank check."' - Justice Stephen Breyer

In Loss for Bush, Supreme Court Blocks War-Crimes Trials at Guantanamo
By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: June 29, 2006

WASHINGTON (AP) -- The Supreme Court ruled Thursday that President Bush overstepped his authority in ordering military war crimes trials for Guantanamo Bay detainees.

The ruling, a rebuke to the administration and its aggressive anti-terror policies, was written by Justice John Paul Stevens, who said the proposed trials were illegal under U.S. law and international Geneva conventions.

The case focused on Salim Ahmed Hamdan, a Yemeni who worked as a bodyguard and driver for Osama bin Laden. Hamdan, 36, has spent four years in the U.S. prison in Cuba. He faces a single count of conspiring against U.S. citizens from 1996 to November 2001.

Two years ago, the court rejected Bush's claim to have the authority to seize and detain terrorism suspects and indefinitely deny them access to courts or lawyers. In this follow-up case, the justices focused solely on the issue of trials for some of the men.

The vote was split 5-3, with moderate Justice Anthony M. Kennedy joining the court's liberal members in ruling against the Bush administration. Chief Justice John Roberts, named to the lead the court last September by Bush, was sidelined in the case because as an appeals court judge he had backed the government over Hamdan.

Thursday's ruling overturned that decision.

Bush spokesman Tony Snow said the White House would have no comment until lawyers had had a chance to review the decision. Officials at the Pentagon and Justice Department were planning to issue statements later in the day.

The administration had hinted in recent weeks that it was prepared for the court to set back its plans for trying Guantanamo detainees.

The president also has told reporters, "I'd like to close Guantanamo." But he added, "I also recognize that we're holding some people that are darn dangerous."

The court's ruling says nothing about whether the prison should be shut down, dealing only with plans to put detainees on trial.

"Trial by military commission raises separation-of-powers concerns of the highest order," Kennedy wrote in his opinion.

The prison at Guantanamo Bay, erected in the months after the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attacks on the United States, has been a flash point for international criticism. Hundreds of people suspected of ties to al-Qaida and the Taliban -- including some teenagers -- have been swept up by the U.S. military and secretly shipped there since 2002.

Three detainees committed suicide there this month, using sheets and clothing to hang themselves. The deaths brought new scrutiny and criticism of the prison, along with fresh calls for its closing.

Justice Clarence Thomas wrote a strongly worded dissent, saying the court's decision would "sorely hamper the president's ability to confront and defeat a new and deadly enemy."

The court's willingness, Thomas said, "to second-guess the determination of the political branches that these conspirators must be brought to justice is both unprecedented and dangerous."

Justices Antonin Scalia and Samuel Alito also filed dissents.

In his own opinion, Justice Stephen Breyer said, "Congress has not issued the executive a 'blank check."'

"Indeed, Congress has denied the president the legislative authority to create military commissions of the kind at issue here. Nothing prevents the president from returning to Congress to seek the authority he believes necessary," Breyer wrote.
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Wow. There is such a thing as the Rule of Law. And guess what? The POTUS is subject to it too!

For more commentary, read here. Or if you're really interested, read the full opinion here.

Confessions of a Wedding Crasher

Yesterday morning I donned my finest finery and headed off to Surrey in order to celebrate the nuptiuls of two lovely individuals that I do not know. At first I felt a little strange about the idea, but then again we all know what sort of lengths I will go to for the sake of cake. Throw in some free food and alcohol and how could I resist?

I arrived at the quaint little church with plenty of time to spare so I decided to take a stroll around the grounds. The church is surrounded by a charming graveyard and I became totally absorbed in studying the headstones, which were really quite beautiful.

Once the guests started to arrive I filed in and was ushered to a seat right at the front. "Family or friend of the bride or groom?" "Uh...the bride...uh...friend." The next thing I knew I was seated in the third row, right behind the bride's family, who were already seated. Lovely people really. Turns out they're from Southern California mostly, except for her Aunt Barbara who is from Arkansas. So we had tons to talk about naturally.

It was an Anglican ceremony, which was really interesting to listen to since I don't know much about the Anglican church. Throughout the whole thing I was thinking of the vicar in The Princess Bride, and giggling to myself. But at some point in the sermon I got really drawn into the vicar's musings on love and how sacred marriage is. And I guess the combination of that and listening to the couple exchange their vows was, to say the least, a little emotional for me. The beauty of that promise of promises, made in words that were both strange and familiar to me, found a chink in my cynicism and cut straight to my own heart. Of course in retrospect, the fact that tears were streaming down my face as the happy couple descended down the aisle probably worked in my favor by adding an appearance of legitimacy to my presence there, so that's good.

Then it was off to the reception. Everyone looked lovely as we sipped on cocktails while the newlyweds were swept off for some photos: the bridesmaids, the guests in their smashing hats...even the vicar had changed into a pimpin' velvet blazer and shades. So by the time we were called into dinner I felt compelled to upgrade my outfit as well. Dinner was lovely. Caprese salad, salmon and veggies, creme brulee...By the time we had polished off our plates and several bottles of wine I was best of friends with those at my table. Tony and Akiko (who is obsessed with all things American) are desperately hoping I will come visit them in Brussels. By the end of the night they were even fighting over which one of them was better friends with me.
Pretty amusing.

Then it was off to the dance floor for the first dance. Much dancing and fun ensued until it was finally time to go. Numbers were exchanged and goodbyes were said. And then, tragedy struck when I realized I hadn't even eaten my piece of cake! But alas, it was too late. Many tears were of course shed.

Then it was a rushed ride back to the city where I met up with some pals at a club on Tottenham Court Road called The End. Not much to report there, except that the search for a club in London that plays decent music continues. Afterwards it was back to the house where we all piled into Dom's bed and chatted until the sun was too high in the sky for respectable people to still be awake.

Now I'm off to watch the Ecuador v. England game, then dinner and babysitting with Zachary. Hoping for a victory that can help ease the pain of the loss that I'm too devastated about to discuss.

Of Cabbages and Kings

Thursday night I went out to Bar Rumba with a bunch of people for Drum & Bass night. Being an old fogey, I didn't really know what that meant, but flatmate Dom said it was her favorite music to dance to, so that's all I needed to hear. That is, until I realized how insane Drum & Bass is. For those as ignorant as I was about this very unique style of music, let me explain. Imagine what it would be like if reggae, techno, jungle and house all did a lot of speed and had a baby. Then, when it was born, they did a lot more speed and celebrated by having a drum circle. Now, mind you, I like to get down as much as the next guy, so I was still out there on the dance floor making the best of it. But my enjoyment was definitely tempered by the fact that for some reason this club was a major sausage fest, and a major japanese alterna-set sausage fest at that whose idea of dancing is a sort of rave-kid permutation of moshing. So I enjoyed it for a little while but escaped to the bar once I had had my fill of being shoved around, stepped on, and kicked.

Back at the bar, Dom's Icelandic friend Axl was buying endless rounds of shots. I was a little wary after the first round of "Shot Russians" which consisted of vodka, grenadine, and raw sugar that you suck up with a straw, but being poor and not wanting to pay for my own drinks I was lured into indulging in several rounds. However, after he kept forcing random and unidentifiable shots on me and everyone around him, I politely informed him that I much prefer my vodka straight; at which point he turned to me and said, "You realize you just shot up to one of the five most eligible women on the planet in my book." You have to respect a man that has his priorities straight, you know?

Friday afternoon I had grand plans of visiting the Tate Modern. But when Zachary called to tell me he found a pub playing Game 1 of the playoffs all thoughts of culture escaped me. And I saw that it was good. But alas, I think it was a fluke since they haven't played another game since. Damn them! Later that night Z and I found ourselves at Salvador & Amanda so we of course had to stop in. There was a DJ mixing hip hop, R&B, and pop mostly - a vast improvement from Thurdsay night's festivities, so we stayed and danced for the rest of the night. Lots of fun. But I was seriously missing Elina, my partner-in-party crime! Still, in less than a month we'll be partying it up in Amsterdam, so I guess I can wait.

I spent most of Saturday afternoon soaking up the sun at Hampstead Heath with co-worker Clara and several of her friends. After baking for awhile (who says London doesn't get hot!) we took a refreshing dip in the Ladies' Pond, a little swimming hole in a chain of 'bathing ponds' reserved just for women. It was great. I must admit to being a pretty modest individual when it comes to nudity. But it felt completely natural at the ladies pond where most of the women were topless and several were completely naked. (And no I'm not posting any pictures of it!)

Saturday night I had a mellow night in Soho and Covent Garden with Ben on his stopover to Dublin along with his new Finnish friend from the hostel, Lauri, who's also interning in London this summer.

Then Sunday, I had a long and awesome visit with J.P. while he was on his way back to France from a conference in Birmingham. We had a long breakfast in Russell Square followed by some shoe shopping on Oxford Street where we got him some new fresh kicks. Afterwards we realized the French Open finals were about to start so we rushed off to Trafalgar Square for some beer and tennis. Then we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around and taking in the sights. It was great.

Unfortunately, I had been so out of the loop all weekend that I didn't realize the shitstorm that was happening at Guantanamo. So since Sunday night I have been immersed in the human rights nightmare that is Guantanamo Bay. I don't really know how they're spinning it in the U.S. I'm sure it's just lovely. I'm still too emotional to talk about it really. I spent most of Monday making an ass of myself at work by bawling my eyes out about it all. But here's an editorial that Zachary wrote for the Guardian to give you a better sense of what's going on.

The thing that has really been getting to me is that one of the men that killed himself, Yasser Talal Al Zahrani, who was just 17 when he was captured four years ago, was slated to be released but, according to protocol had not been informed. Just a few weeks earlier his father was quoted in a Saudi newspaper (responding to the release of several Saudi prisoners) as saying, “We are extremely happy about the release of the men, whom I also consider my sons. I am very optimistic and have faith in God that my son and the rest will be released.” Tragic. But don't take my word for it. Take these people's.

I got a chance to speak with the Tipton Three this week since they had met Yasser in Guantanamo, just to find out a little more about him. Basically, he was a scared kid. He was innocent. The U.S. knew it, which is why they were planning on sending him home. But he couldn't take the hell and hopelessness anymore since he had been living in a mesh cage and been told that he was never getting out. He killed himself in spite of the fact that it was against his religion. He had been living in inhumane conditions for four years, subject to torture and derision. Treated like an animal. What would you do?

Anyway, that's been my week. Intense to say the least. In other news, I'm really looking forward to this weekend when Heather will be here. I'm sure we'll get up to no good as always ;) But the first thing on the list, I think, is the Chocolate Bar at Harrod's.

Let The Games Begin!

I cannot believe I am missing the Mavs in the NBA Finals! Isn't it just my luck that I would be out of the freakin' country the year they decide to finally get there? And of course it's all World Cup this and World Cup that over here. For some reason, it just doesn't seem like anyone is interested in talking about my Mavs! So the hunt for the one pub in London that is actually broadcasting replays of the NBA games has begun. If you have any information on the subject, please let me know.

So, back to the World Cup! How cool is it that I am once again in a major football lovin' country during the games? (Ahhh, Venezuela 1998. Good times.) The first game has already begun and I'm actually late for a date to go watch it at the pub just so I can check in with you lot before I take off for the weekend. (See how she effortlessly weaves cute little British terms into her speech now?) I, along with the rest of the continent, am getting so excited. I've got my scorecard poster proudly posted on the wall at the office all ready to be updated one game at a time. So hip hip! And what what! And God bless the queen!

Tonight after the game I'm heading to the Tate Modern. I'm pretty excited about it since the only museum I've been to is the V&A. And they're practically all free, so museum hopping should definitely be my preferred form of sight seeing right now. But I'm also desperate to get to Dr. Samuel Johnson's house and have a look at that famed dictionary. Especially since someone told me today that the word 'sausage' isn't actually in it!

"Once upon a time, there was a lovely little sausage called `Baldrick', and it lived happily ever after." - Baldrick's magnificent octopus

And tomorrow I shall go to the Ladies' Pond at Hampstead Heath and maybe for a run first. I'm definitely going to have to start working off some of that English chocolate weight pretty soon. The weather this week has been amazing and I'm dying to get out and enjoy it!

Our Friend Amanda Rambles On Having Had Too Much Tea and Too Little Sleep

I’m finally feeling a little better. I’m not sure if I was fighting an actual illness or the long-term effects of mental and emotional exhaustion. I’ve noticed that the human body has an amazing capacity for waiting until the stress has passed to completely fall apart. And the last nine months have been nothing if not stressful. Anyway, after spending way too much time cooped up in my little attic of a room, I had myself convinced yesterday that it must surely be haunted. How else could I explain my overwhelming impulse to sob about some long-forgotten woe whenever I’m in my room alone? I thought surely it must be a very sad ghost, though thankfully, I didn’t sense any sort of malice toward me. But now I realize that I’m probably just a freak with an overactive imagination. At least that’s today’s conclusion.

However I must admit I have in the past noticed that I do indeed possess a strange talent for picking up on paranormal presences. There have been several occasions where, upon getting the distinct impression that I was in the presence of a non-living host in a restaurant or bar; my suspicions have often been confirmed by querying the staff members, who have always been eager to share their stories of late night mischief and other unexplained phenomena (Green Pastures, The Tavern, and The Kennedy School all come to mind).

I could also chalk it up to the fact that I have, without a doubt, the absolutely most uncomfortable bed on the face of the planet and am thus operating on way too little sleep. Or perhaps I might explain my lachrymosity in a more physiological way: it is a well-known fact that physical depletion often leads to a strain on one’s mental constitution. (Can you tell I'm reading George Eliot?) Then again, maybe I’m just sad.

In other news, I dug up a little something for you to read to give you a better understanding of the situation in Guantanamo too. This Amnesty report references several of our clients. In fact, I’m meeting with Shaker’s wife tomorrow. So if you’re interested, take a look.

I got to hear Nick Yarris speak again last night. He's so inspiring. I saw him in a movie last spring, After Innocence, which was great. But hearing him speak in person is really moving. And he's such a warm person. I got to have dinner with him and his wife the other night and now he treats me like an old friend.

And speaking of old friends, I can't wait to see Jean-Pierre this weekend. I've literally been counting down the days until I get to see "Papa". It's too bad Wimbledon hasn't started yet or we might make a day of it! By the way, Elina's the only person that's called me since I got here and I'm feeling quite neglected, people. And the emails have not been rolling in either I must say. Hmmph!

On The Other Side of the Pond

Well the weekend didn't turn out to be the whirlwind tour of all of London's greatest hits that I had envisioned. Drinks with Dan after work on Friday turned into a pretty wild laydeez night in the VIP room at NYT. So of course Saturday was pretty much shot. I took the opportunity to get unpacked and settle into the new digs, do some laundry, and get a little further into The Kite Runner. That evening I headed down to Camden with Dan to catch the 9 o'clock showing of X-Men 3.

But by the time I got home I was in trouble. Though I hadn't been feeling well all day, I figured it was just the lingering effects of too much champagne from the night before. That is, until the fever set in. Then the full-body aches. Then the hot and cold flashes. And the dizzy spells. To make a long story short, I basically couldn't get out of bed for the next 24-hours. I would have gone downstairs to get a glass of water, but I was so dizzy I kept having visions of myself falling down the stairs and breaking my neck, which would not have been good, so I stayed in bed. I haven't had a chance to go grocery shopping yet, so there was no food to be had anyway. Zachary was in Ireland for the weekend and I had run out of credit on my pay-as-you-go phone, so I couldn't even call Dan. They're pretty much the only people I know in this country and my roommates were nowhere to be seen. Silence.

To make the best of a bad situation I decided to just read my book all day; a luxury I haven't afforded myself in a long time. In fact, I think the last time I did that was Santiago 1998 (Michael Crighton's Airframe, which is complete and utter crap). The Kite Runner was amazing though. You should read it. The thing is, it's been a really long time since I was just alone and quiet for such a long time with my head not spinning from the million and a half things I need to do, or full of the million and a half things I intentionally stuff it with to avoid thinking...or maybe feeling. But there was no tv, not internet, no radio, no people...no distractions but my novel. And somewhere around hour 14, in the midst of my exhaustion and in the depth of my solitude, something broke...or opened up maybe. And I started thinking things, and feeling things that I haven't allowed myself to experience in a long time because of how intensely painful they are. Things like how utterly alone I feel, how completely betrayed I feel, how I honestly don't think I'll ever fully trust anyone ever again; or be loved in the way I so desperately want to be and - I think - deserve to be. Heavy stuff, I know.

But late last night I crawled my way downstairs and pilfered some toast and tea from the kitchen. And when roommate Marcus came home and found me sprawled out in the kitchen, disheveled and weak and with the worst case of bedhead you've ever seen, he force-fed me some juice and admonished me for not asking for help (something I've never been very good at). Then Zachary came home bearing chocolate and scones from his Irish holiday and we all sat up chatting for awhile. It was nice to rejoin the world of the living.

Nevertheless, I'm still pretty ill today and have been sent home from work. So I'm starting a new novel: The Mill on the Floss. I'll let you know how it turns out, and whether it incites any other dramatic emotional upheavals.

A Day In The Life

I'm here in London and making up for lost time on all the English chocolate I haven't eaten in the last 15 years since I last visited. After what seemed like a 99-hour plane ride, I landed on a cold sunny morning with a pretty miserable head cold. I've spent the last few days trying to recover from that and from the jet lag that is inevitably worse than I anticipated.

Nevertheless, I've managed to keep myself pretty busy since I arrived. First of all, I've been learning a ton about the situation in Guantanamo Bay. And although I am dying to tell you all about it, unfortunately, it's pretty much all classified information. I mean, like, you have to have secret clearance to have access to it. Seriously. So when I say 'I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you', I actually mean it. That's right, Secret Agent Amanda. Okay, maybe we're not talking international spy levels, but don't fuck with the American government level at a minimum. So after typing up a 32-page handwritten letter from one of the hunger strikers describing his experience there, it's killing me, but I can't say anything about how fucked up it is down there. Just know that it's bad.

Other than that I've moved into my new place, which is awesome. My roommates are super cool, it's huge, and it's in a really cute neighborhood conveniently located right by a tube stop (Tufnell Park). So I can get to and from work really easily.

I've been meeting lots of great people; I went dancing with Dan in SoHo the other night; late night stroll in Trafalgar Square. I haven't had a chance to do too much touristy stuff yet, but I can't wait for this weekend to fit some in. One thing I've decided to do while I'm here is go to Wimbledon. I'm so excited! Aaaand Dan and I bought our tickets to Amsterdam yesterday; J.P. is coming to visit next weekend; Heather will be here the weekend after that; I signed up to volunteer at Euro Pride; the World Cup is starting next week; Dita is coming on July 1st...so much to do so little time!

Anyway, I do have pictures, but I don't have an adapter yet so I can't upload them onto the net. Stay tuned for more. For now I'm off to celebrate Shavuot at the local Jewish Temple where Zachary is giving a talk with former death row inmate Nick Yarris. Yeah, life's a party.