Embedded in my couch.

• Author: Clinton, Kate
• Position: Unplugged - Column

Just got back from a tour of duty as human shield for the Dixie Chicks. Fair is fowl. After a concert where one of the Chicks had expressed embarrassment about the Texas roots of the President, the country trio began taking heavy incoming from Clear Channel Company, a media empire that independent artists have been complaining about for years.

The CCC owns 1,200 radio stations, dozens of TV stations, SFX concert promotions, and thousands of billboards nationwide. This goliath has been taking hits from listeners fighting with their MP3s, but they continue to carpet bomb the desert with Celine Dion, who can take the top of your head off with invisible piercing high notes.

It was good to be on the road with the Chicks. After Juggernaut George beat Fox to the punch by preemptively declaring war, I was in danger of getting embedded in my couch. When I wasn't out marching with Code Pink, United for Peace and Justice, or New Yorkers Say No to War, I was home anxiously watching, trying not to eat all the supplies stashed in my ready, gov home emergency kit.

Couch potato, all eyes, yet blind, I limited my primary viewing to BBC, with occasional side surfs in the hopes of catching one of the Fox, MSNBC, or CNN correspondents I loathe under really uncomfortable conditions. Draft Tucker Carlson!

Then I noticed that my galpal and I had unwittingly begun mimicking the patois interruptus of trans-world conversation. Left to mind the home desk, the anchor, all coifed and clean, whom you secretly scorn as a loser for not being able to pass the stringent war roadie/toady test, asks a question. On the split screen, the wind whipped Embedouin stares blankly for a delayed second. Just when you think he has not heard the question, he responds, "Well, Dan, that's absolutely right." Always the "well." Always the desk jockey's name. Always acquiescent. After four days of watching, I heard the rhythms of our home chatter. "Honey, do you have the war/sports section?" Pause, pause, pause. "Well, yes, Urvashi, I do."

So finally, I...