Disturbing

I am beginning to wonder what has happened to us as a people. While the republican clown show goes on and on, with prospective candidates prattling on about “freedom” for God’s sake, the killings continue.  Freedom? Really? Is that the best these clowns can do? I suppose it’s a better topic than more tax cuts, their other favorite topic when they have nothing else to say.

But why hasn’t John McCain said anything to us about Mr. Bales and his killing of innocent people, including children? No, instead, McCain yaks on about “victory”. What the hell would constitute “victory” for him? Should we kill everyone in Afghanistan?? Would that satisfy Mr. McCain’s bloodlust? He needs to see a shrink so he can rid himself of the need to achieve “victory” in Vietnam.

But Newt has nothing to say on this subject? I guess Newt is too busy trying to figure out his moon base thingie. And Santorum is still too focused on denying women access to health care, and denying married couples access to that exquisite pleasure his God gave to us—sexual congress.  It makes the world go around, but Rick considers it inherently evil.  Apparently killing innocents is just part of the game. Now, I am not surprised that Mitt hasn’t commented. He is, after all, entirely focused on money, profits, money and more money. He measures everything but how much profit an operation can deliver. Since Afghanistan isn’t exactly a profit center, I guess he remains uninterested.

And, beyond the atrocity in Afghanistan, no one has said anything about Florida, where the state legislators have converted the entire state into one giant OK Corral.  I think Florida is a great case example for why we need to observe and periodically rein in the worst instincts of state legislators.  The stalking and killing of a black teenager who was found armed with Skittles and a soft drink—sounds dangerous, Huh?—now makes the state a danger ground. I would suggest that the State Department should issue a warning about anyone planning a trip to Florida for any reason. It should now be listed as an unsafe territory, sort of like Somalia. Think of it. Anyone who considers himself in fear of his life is free to shoot to kill. One the other hand, doesn’t that make Mr. Zimmerman a potential target? Everyone should be in fear for their life when in the vicinity of Mr. Zimmerman.

And no republican commentary on this outrage. I suppose, for republicans, it’s a “state’s rights” thing.  And we know how well that works out, huh?

So, one more example of why this republican primary has turned into such a doofus parade—politics for the terminally stupid.

And on that exoplanet called republiciana, I hear that the Mittster will soon visit Charlotte, and will meet with some rich friends at a local country club. Mitt gives a whole new meaning to that term, “Country Club Republicans”. . I can’t wait for Mitt to tell us that, “I know Charlotte well . . . why some of my best friends own country clubs . . .”

GOP Symbol

As I was shopping the other day at Trader Joe's, I came across this item in its beer and wine section.  And given my view of the current republican primaries--a never-ending clown show, I thought how appropriate it would be if we could replace the current symbol of the GOP. The elephant seems quaint now. So, here is my version of the new Republican symbol:

We're one beer short of a six pack.

Imagine

“God made me do it” is perhaps the perfect definition of the “last refuge of scoundrels”.  Mr. Tony Perkins, head of that Christian Taliban outlet store called the Family Research Council, announced breathlessly to his eager audience that "God has defined marriage.  It is not up to us to redefine it." And by that he denounces gay marriage and urges his faithful followers to see to it that North Carolina totally bans any and all attempts to redefine marriage to include lesbians and gays.

He brings to mind the guys who assure little boys that if they will don a vest full of dynamite and explode it in a crowded marketplace so as to kill dozens of innocents, they will be rewarded in heaven and will assuredly get their 71 virgins. Yes, God has also instructed them in the fine art of killing people because they are different.  Apparently, God is a busy fellow, and always, always on the side of scoundrels.

It makes me wonder about God. Could God really make such pronouncements? And why would God do such obviously unethical things? Do you suppose that God does no such things? And that people like Tony Perkins and the Taliban leaders who push ignorant boys into immoral acts are simply making it all up, for their own unethical purposes?

There really are alternative views of this grand universe. Even assuming that a God, or collection of Gods and Goddesses exist, and that they really did create the universe, it seems entirely likely that they provided no instruction manual to the creatures they created. So, one alternative is that God did create this whole thing a few billion years ago, just to see what would transpire. They maybe just set it in motion and are now watching it all unfold. See, that would mean that the scientific evolutionists and physicists, and biologists, and geologists, et al, are not at all at odds with God. Maybe it’s the religiously inclined preachers, et al, who are at odds with God.

See, this other view might hold that life is a wonderful opportunity that we all (that is, all God’s creatures) create through our best procreative efforts. That life is set in motion and then, at some undetermined point, that life element just stops—winks out like a light bulb burning out. And that nothing follows—no heaven, no hell, just . . . nothing. One is here, conscious, and then one is not.  Suppose that were true. What would that mean?

Well, for one thing, it would mean that all the religious leaders everywhere would no longer have any power, because they could no longer operate their grand Ponzi scheme. See, they would have nothing to promise. People would have to behave well . . . or not, sort of like they do now, but without any aftermath—no grand payoff, but also no awful punishment.  There would no longer be any point in killing someone because he is different, or holds a different view of life.  No power would accrue to people because they own God. There would be no kings by divine right. No Ayatollahs, no Popes (Nazi or otherwise), no bishops, no priests raping little boys. Just people being people--the good, the bad, the ugly.  And of course, butterflies . . .

Reminds me of that Jon Lennon song, Imagine . . . imagine there’s no heaven . . . no hell below . . . all the people living for today . . . all the people sharing all the world . . .

Imagine that . . .

Crazy People

It’s getting increasingly difficult to tell the crazy people from the normal people in politics lately. And that may be a sign of a tipping point in America.  Perhaps we have gone over the edge and are now beginning our gradual descent into  . . . into what? Third World status?? Are we to join Afghanistan soon as a modern 14^th century society ruled by warlords (aka Arizona-style sheriffs)  and mafia chieftains (aka bankers), overseen by Christian Taliban Sharia law that is administered by Ayatollah Santorum and others of his ilk? You laugh or decry my silliness. But have you listened lately to the crazy people? Rush Limbaugh comes to mind. He is so gross that he appears not to even know that he is being gross. Happily, five of his sponsors have discussed dropping him—but that means that he had five American companies who had been willing to support him publically??? Wow, that’s an indicator of just how thoughtless American companies are these days, and how lacking in standards of decency they are. Imagine that—five American companies were willing to align themselves with that sleazebag Rush Limbaugh.

This gong show that goes by the name of the republican nominating process has become a national disgrace/comedy show—take your pick. Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are the only ones having fun as a result.  Has this kind of absurd parade ever happened before? What kind of a nation, not to mention a political party imagines that sick people like Newt Gingrich and Rick Santorum are plausible candidates to lead this nation? And lest we forget about Mr. Nowhere Man, the Mittster, he seems to believe in anything, or nothing—take your pick. Oh, well, we know he cares about money, and lots of it.

And how they do go on about taxes, as though taxes were some mysterious punishment that Democrats conceived to torment rich republicans . . . and don’t forget that our candidates care exclusively about rich republicans. What are taxes, anyway? As I see it, taxes are the exact public sector analog to commercial prices that we pay for goods and services. If we hire a taxi, the cabby levies a tax at the end of the ride, and we pay it. But he calls it a “fare”. If we buy an airline ticket, they charge us a specific tax, and they call it a fare.  If I go into a grocer, or attend a Farmers Market and I buy a pound of tomatoes, or a head of lettuce, do they just hand it to me and smile? Well, no, they tax me, oh excuse me, they charge me a fee/price/ cost of goods sold. Can we obtain any goods or services anywhere in America without paying a tax/fee/price??? So, when we send our kids off to school to get educated, why would we balk at paying a school tax/fee/price?? And when we call for a fireman or a policeman to help save us from something mean and nasty, do we rebel at the fact that we have paid a tax/price/fee up front??  

So perhaps we should change the name and stop calling public sector fees taxes. Eliminate the word taxes and maybe republicans will be happier.  Oh, I forgot, republicans will never be happy until they manage to oust the intelligent black man from the White House.  Yes, they want instead a delusional (white) sociopath as leader of the free world, or maybe a 14^th century (white) theocrat. Yeah, that’s the ticket. A crazy man in the White House.

Springtime 2012

It's still early in 2012, but I do believe that this absurd imitation of a winter is drawing to a close, giving way to  . . . guess what . . . Springtime . . . I know, I know. It's early and there remains plenty of time for spring white stuff . . . you know . . . schnee . . .
So, here's my take on it so far . . .

And on that republican Gong Show. Well, like all really, really bad stuff, this too shall end. But lest we forget, here's a way to think on that dreary affair.

Obama, Clinton & JFK

We have begun watching a little series on the Clinton era.  I was unsure how I would feel, but watching him and Hillary, together again, brings back a sort of fondness I had only experienced once before—while watching JFK as a much younger person (me not him).  There was always a sense of promise while watching them both, a promise missing from the current antedeluvial men roaming the countryside in search of  votes from the fringes of the Christian right wing—the Taliban wing. However flawed they were, Clinton and JFK brought a freshness to our political scene and a sense that our political leadership really did intend to bring something positive to the country that it needed. This crop of republican oligarchs and theocrats (well, to be fair, only Santorum is a true theocrat) presents in contrast a disheartening spectre, a true menace to our fair land.

Bill Clinton brought an energy to the table that I found exciting. That he failed to deliver on his full promise was disappointing, but perhaps predictable. His personal flaws, coupled with the negative energy flowing over us from the Gingrich revolution practically guaranteed that he would deliver less than he promised.

To be fair, I had this same sense of a “breath of fresh air” when Obama replaced the imbecile Shrub. But as president, he has underperformed, mainly I think because he has been dealing with a Congress that is spectacularly negative in opposition. He gives in too often, sometimes ahead of the negotiations, much as his recent corporate tax overhaul, a gift to our corporate leaders  in advance of the negotiations on the tax code.

Still, a President Obama so far surpasses anything the royalists at Republican Central and their Christian Taliban serfs are offering the country that I just need to be patient with our president. JFK he isn’t . . . yet.

And on another front, as I was listening to NPR this morning, they were reporting on the recent Arizona pseudo-debate that took place last evening. They were speaking with one of the faithful; who had attended. He seemed borderline crazed. He said that he hated Obama, that he had destroyed the country, and that were he to be re-elected, he thought, despite his age of 80 years, he would move to another country.  My first thought was, bravo . . . please go. But then I thought, but where could he go? Who would take him? Then a brilliant thought came to me (it was 5:15 in the morning remember). Why don’t you find yourself a wormhole somewhere and travel back to 1933 Nazi Germany, you racist pig? They would welcome you there.

It’s Been a While Mom

A while ago, my brother left this world and I wrote a little tribute to him, my appreciation for a life well lived.  It is now coming near to another birthday of old—my mother. She left this world a while ago—in 1980, having rented a space here since 1899.  So she managed to traverse parts of two centuries.

But much as my brother exceeded all my expectations of a brother, husband, father, and all around good man, so too did my mom surpass any reasonable expectations for the good mother.

Many women who become moms manage to get some help in this enterprise called family and child-rearing, the help coming from folks called fathers/husbands. In our case, the father-husband of the household was mostly missing in action. I have never been sure why he was only rarely present. Nobody ever seemed to talk about it. But it is a fact that he was gone more than he was around.

Now, until my brother decided on his own to not only graduate from high school, but went on to complete college, no one in our family, to my knowledge, had ever gone beyond high school and most never reached high school. To be fair, we are talking late 19^th and early 20^th century life, when education was more the province of the upper classes than now. So, with no education or trade skills, my father became a drifter. He drank often and to excess on more than one occasion. I am told that at one time he played a violin well enough to land a job at the CBS radio orchestra. However, although I once spied a violin in our apartment flat, never did I see or hear him play . . . not a note. So, whether he was just not good enough, or more likely that he drank too much and so lost his precious position, I cannot say. However, raising three kids during the 1920’s and 1930’s cannot have been much fun for the lower classes, the group to which we were firmly affixed, so perhaps the stress got to him.

My mom managed somehow to get enough training in bookkeeping to get herself employed during the war as a bookkeeper for Gibbs and Cox, as best I understand it, a naval architectural firm that designed surface warships for the US Navy. Apparently, the job she held paid well enough for mom to pay for a “railroad flat” on Second Avenue in Manhattan, near 71^st Street. We lived in several such places as I remember it, but this one actually had a bathroom within the flat. The previous unit in which we lived had a bathroom in the hallway between two flats.

Each time my father came home for one of his brief stays (generally by whining) we would have some brief periods of calm, followed by another storm after which Rudy, the pseudo-father figure would depart. But in between all these bouts of sturm und drang, my mom kept on truck’n. She went to work every day, without fail, and brought home a paycheck routinely. She managed even to buy war bonds and thereby to put away about $3000 during the war. This all without financial help from Rudy. See, when he left, he never sent home any money. Mom had to keep on by herself.

And Mom did all this, continuing to raise her three kids by herself, while also periodically having to care for her aging parents, who were fast running out of money, thanks to the Republican banking and stockbroker-induced Great Depression. Mom never once complained about her life, which, seen in retrospect, was a tad depressing.  She never bad-mouthed her deadbeat husband. She just worked, and tucked me in at night.

After the war (WW II for those still paying attention) my mom had these war bonds which she had accumulated. She thought that maybe life in New York City wasn’t such a hot idea for a family with little money. Mainly, she was afraid what the city would do to her kids.  Our sister was by then married, but my brother and I remained within her care. And she worried.  We were, I guess, the original latch-key kids.  So, she took her savings and went upstate a bit to look for a place to buy. She found a little place in Rockland County, in a little village called New City Park. There was a little house that had been a clubhouse for this little village by a lake.  My grandpa—Grandpa Inglis, who had been a carpenter and sometime house-builder before the Depression, agreed to fix up the place and convert it into a two-bedroom house, with a proper kitchen and bathroom.  So, buy it she did and fix it up he did, all of course, with no help from Rudy.

Then my mom extracted my brother and I from our life in Manhattan, and moved us to “the country”. But, the move was accompanied by yet another of Rudy’s home-comings. He came home just before the move. He agreed to get a job in New City or Nanuet and to take care of us, while Mom continued with her job in New York City. She even bought him a car, so he could go to work.  Wow, we were to become a two-income family.

So, Bill and I enrolled in the local schools—me in Chestnut Grove, a K-8 grammar school, and Bill in the Spring Valley High School.  Bill had been going to Stuyvesant High School in Manhattan, so Spring Valley would be quite a change from his high-performance, big-city high school. But, we began life in “the country.”

That pastoral period lasted about six months. One morning, during a very cold winter, our oil heater failed. Rudy, not one to solve problems, decided that it was obviously time to leave again. So, without even a fare-thee-well, Rudy took off in Mom’s car and left his two sons to cope.  Bill did the obvious. He called Mom in the City. She did what she always did. She dropped whatever she was doing, left behind her life in Manhattan and came to New City Park. She quickly got the heater fixed and almost as quickly got herself a new job, this time with Widman’s Bakery, a local firm in Spring Valley.  And Mom just kept on truck’n. Again, she never bothered to complain. She just did what was necessary for her kids. In that, Mom never waivered.

So, Daisy—Mom, your birthday’s coming around again. You would have been 113 years old on this February 23^rd.  You didn’t make it that far—almost no one does.  But I wanted you to know that we all noticed. You always performed. You were a great Mom and when the going got tough, you always remained firm. You stuck by your kids, always, always. And we noticed. As a family, we weren’t much on talking, so maybe we never got around to telling you how much we appreciated you as our Mom.

You were great. And I will always remember that about you. I have not forgotten you Mom. None of us forgot you. We all loved you much. I’m the only one left, so I wanted you to know that, wherever you are, you were a Mensch while here.