2 + 2 = 5

Logic is a thing of the past. It's gone, like "dust in the wind."

Try as I might, I just don't understand the Republican mind set. Their ideas don't seem to make any sense.

Almost all of the, so-called, social issues of our time seem to be disconnected from reality.

Intellect, reason and common sense seem to have evaporated from the general discourse.

Take global warming for instance. Scientists...oh, you remember those people don't you, the ones who have spent their lives studying the intracacies and nuances of life on Earth...well, scientists, who have been looking at the issue (problem) of global warming have concluded that it is a real threat to mankind.

Now logic would tell us that when the ice caps are melting...there's a problem.

But, NOOOO. The naysayers maintain that there is no such thing as global warming. It's a concoction of the Elite Left Wing Liberal Intellectual Establishment designed to take our jobs and thrust us into unending poverty and servitude.

Actually it is an attempt by the ELWLIE to...SAVE THE PLANET!!

But never mind the logic there. Any moron will tell you that if your car is leaking oil, eventually, the engine will seize up and the car will stop dead.

That's an example of the disconnect between rational, measured thought and the rampant idiocy fomented and supported by the Right Wing.

Another example is the idea of Trickle Down Economics, or "Voodoo" Economics, as George H.W. Bush rightly called it.

There is no logic in the notion that, if you give someone the opportunity to make millions of dollars, they will, voluntarily, share the wealth.

"What's mine is mine" is the more likely refrain. Corporations, and the billionaires who own and run them, are in business to make money and as much as they possibly can.

They are not in the charity business. They pay their workers as little as they are allowed (and sometimes less...) so as to maximize their profits.

And the management will take as much as it can in compensation. And they will keep as much as they can and give away very little.

It's human nature. My cave, my woman, my goat, my fire...mine. Screw you!

Logic.

But the Republicans continue to suggest that if we deregulate business that, somehow, by magic, the profits will make their way into the economy and filter down to the middle and lower classes.

Not gonna happen guys.

And the one idea that has traction across all political spectra is the one that taxes should be as low as possible, if not non-existent.

What is wrong with you? Are you out of your friggin' mind? Who do you think is going to pay for the myriad services and programs that we, as a society, have determined we want on a daily basis?

Public education, public health care, the military, highways, consumer safety. The list goes on. Where is the money going to come from to fund all of what we want, need and have become dependent upon if not from taxes?

From the wealthy among us? Not on your life. Not logical.

And don't get me started on the idea that President Obama is a Socialist. We are all socialists. The next time you need an EMT and call 911 stop and think about, A) who's paying for the service (all of us) and, B) where the money is coming from (taxes)

So...

Some, on the right, criticize the intellectals and call them elitists. They prefer the medieval nonsense that their leaders on the Right continue to use to justify their greed and craving of power.

But, in the end, the "Trickle Down Theory" may be proven right.

Unfortunately it will be society and the planet "Trickling Down" the drain and no one will have a clue as to where the stopper is.

Except the millionaires, the scientists and the educated who will have designed, paid for and built colonies in space. They'll continue to live happy and healthy lives while the rest of us die penniless, starving and sick in the cold and the dark.

It's only logical.

Hold That Thought

I've been trying to hold my tongue, to wait and see, to, for once, not opine.

But I just can't take it anymore.

The current discussion centering on Rick Santorum's thoughts about education have been reduced to a theatrical exercise. And a comic one at that...

Apparently the former Senator has home-schooled his children. I suppose that's ok if you have an MBA and a law degree, as he has. In that case, I would imagine, his kids will get a pretty good, if not philosophically narrow, education.

But what if your mother never finished high school and your father dropped out after repeating the eighth grade for the third time...?

What if they never read Shakespeare or did a geometry proof or studied the Second World War or took French I?

In short, what if they were uneducated? Generous, hard working, sweet and devoted but completely and totally uninformed as to the subtleties and nuances of the history of civilized society.

Newton, Proust, Chopin, Schweitzer, Earhart, Arendt. Names that evoke excellence and innovation and organized thought.

We have progressed so far as a civilization, in large part, because of the pioneers of education and intellect.

Certainly the workers and farmers helped to forge our cultural bonds and grow our country with their innovations and blood, sweat and tears dedication.

But the teachers and instructors and professors that guide us and teach us, not only dates and times but the process of learning, have been critical to our successful development as a society.

To suggest, for even an instant, that someone who has never read the Canon or peered into a microscope is, somehow, qualified to teach their children is like saying that someone who witnessed an appendectomy is qualified to perform one. I can hear the lawyers right now..."MALPRACTICE!!! Sue the bastard!"

But we can't sue our parents when they mess up our lives. There are no "do-overs" in parenting. Kids retain even the smallest piece of information and if it's wrong or misguided or hurtful the child spends the rest of his lifetime trying to get over it.

Public, even private schools, certainly have their shortcomings but they are a hell of a lot better than removing our future to a dimly lit dining room table with a copy of "On Four Feet" and an abacus.

Senator Santorum, MBA, JD. You should be ashamed of yourself.



On the Willard Watch...

Why, in God's name, would anyone vote for such a hereditary loser?
His father tried and failed. His mother tried and failed. Willard tried and failed. As go the parents so goes the son. It's in his genes. Yo...Mitt! Give it a rest buddy. Enough already!

Ah...Those Were The Days

I had an argument at the bank today.

Again...

Seems like, often, when I need something out of the ordinary from my bank I am stifled.

I remember, when I was a kid, the way it was in the "old days."

The hell with the toaster. I'm not talking about toasters here.

I'm talking about relationships.

In the past you developed a relationship with your banker. You knew him by name and he knew you. And your parents and your kids. And your dog.

We were a community. An extended family of people drawn together by common needs, desires and purpose.

If you went into the bank and asked to cash a third party check, which is what I did today, as long as it was endorsed, you were good to go.

But...NO...not today. Not at MY bank. NOOOOO!

And to make me even more insane, the fact that the third party in question was MY WIFE had no bearing.

The check was from a company we do business with. It was made out to my lovely wife. She had endorsed it and written above her signature, "Make Payable to my Wonderful Husband." Obviously I substitute that for my real name which I don't want you to know because of reasons of identity theft and concerns about privacy.

Oh...my real name is the title of this blog? I forgot that in the midst of my recalling today's exasperating events. Never mind...

Anyway, the bank...my bank...couldn't cash the check for me. They couldn't verify my wife's signature. Never friggin' mind that the bank manager KNOWS MY WIFE! She knows who she is. She even knows who our dog is.

But because my wife wasn't there to say that she had endorsed the check over to me, I couldn't cash the God damned thing. And the fact that the banker knows me...well forget about that logic. There was, apparently, aside from all of my various ID cards, no way for my banker to verify that I was me and not some poseur with hair and makeup and a costume and a dialect coach trying to gain access to my account in which, on a good day, you will find $10.43! COME ON!!!!!!!!! (Just kidding...she knew it was me all along. She is such a prankster..!)

My word should have been enough. That should have been all that counted. That should have been the beginning and the end of it!

In the GOOD OLD DAYS...when you were friends with your banker, your word was all that mattered. If my father told his banker something then his banker could take that information to the, well...to the bank, if you will...which was where the conversation would have, hypothetically, taken place...back then...in the "Good Old Days."

Digressing...but not really. The point here is that society has completely broken down. Your word means nothing. Relationships mean nothing. And toasters mean...well, toasters mean tax problems. Did you read where people are being assessed a tax on the gifts they have been given by banks to lure them into opening accounts?

You can't invent this stuff. It's unbelievable.

Time to invest in a new mattress with a secret compartment for cash. At least then I'll feel like I have some control.

Oh, and by the way, the bank finally cashed the check, but only after we belatedly discovered that my wife is a cosigner on my account. Well, we didn't actually discover it. I had forgotten. Had I remembered that little fact, this whole ordeal wouldn't have taken place. But that would have missed the larger point.

And then I wouldn't have had the ammunition for this post. Aren't you glad I forgot...?

Oh Yeah...? Sez Who...?

At what point in the history of mankind did what I do or believe become your business?

Not you, actually, dear reader but the Royal "You"...as in the rest of society.

We are inundated, these days, with stories about this or that faction of this or that group espousing what's "right" trying to foist it's beliefs on the rest of us.

Helmet laws and smoking ordinances and Blue laws and sex laws. All someone else's opinion made into law.

It seems to me that what I choose to do in the privacy of my own life should be of no consequence to anyone else.

If I am fool enough to strap myself to a Crotch Rocket and hurtle down the freeway at 100 miles per hour without a protective helmet I should be allowed to do so. It's my head...it's my life. No?

Ok, some would argue that it may be my head but it's our collective tax dollars that will scoop it up off of the pavement or try to put it back together in the emergency room should I lose control of my bike.

But we could circumvent that by carrying a piece of paper or opting for words on the back of our licenses that says that, in the event of an accident, we are responsible for the damage. We'll clean up the mess or we'll pay for the hospital. Or our "heirs and assigns" as they say in legalese.

Take it out of society's hands. Put it on the individual, where it belongs.

We claim to value the rights of the individual to determine his or her own path and to make his or her own choices about life.

But then, at almost every turn, we deprive the individual of making those choices and turn them over to the government.

And the religious zealots among us are the worst. What is it about some people that they feel the need to be missionaries? Why do they feel compelled to bring "the word" to the masses of "non-believers?"

Why can't they just keep their thoughts and beliefs to themselves? If I am happy as a non-believer than just leave me alone.

You don't see roving pairs of Atheists going house to house in suburban neighborhoods knocking on doors spreading the word according to Madalyn Murray O'Hair.
(See also...http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/101-famous-atheists)

Those folks are content to live their lives in quiet relection. They don't proselytize nor yell and scream. They don't pamphlet and they don't interrupt your dinner with robo-calls about the coming of "The Rapture" and the need to be saved...!

I recently saw the documentary, "What's The Matter with Kansas", in which several of the main characters were activists on the abortion issue. It was a maddening expose of the Religious Right and their way of life. A must see...

I, for one, have no idea when life begins. I don't know, and I don't care if it is at conception or viability or birth.

What I do know, however, is that it shouldn't be anyone's business what I believe, or don't believe.

It is up to me how I choose to live my life and what belief system I choose.

I am neither "Pro-Life" nor "Pro-Choice."

I am "Pro-Get-the-Hell-Out-of-My-Face-and-Leave-Me-the-Frig-Alone-You-Narrow-Minded -Medieval-Horse's-Patoot!"

That's what I am.

Deal with it and...

God Bless You.

Morality Play

"...a late touchdown scored by Vinny Testaverde of the New York Jets against the Seattle Seahawks on December 6, 1998 at The Meadowlands in East Rutherford, New Jersey. Testaverde attempted a quarterback sneak on 4th down in the final minute of the game and although television replays clearly showed the football did not cross the goal line, head linesman Earnie Frantz ruled that Testaverde had scored (in fact, the only part of Testaverde that did cross the line was his helmet)."

The above paragraph is from Wikipedia.

That event is something that has bothered me for years. I thought about it again today after reading David Brooks' excellent piece in the New York Times about the Knicks' Jeremy Lin.

Brooks was talking about the tension between morality as it pertains to religion and a devotion to God above all else, and the ethos of pro sports which celebrates the individual and is all about competition and winning.

I've always wondered what was going on in Testaverde's head after that play was over.
He must have known that the football didn't cross the goal line. He was carrying it. It was a quarterback sneak.

I was a quarterback at one point in my youth and I tried a few sneaks. I always knew where I was and, more importantly, where the ball was...and wasn't.

The question is this; what allowed Testaverde to accept the touchdown that was awarded even after the score was challenged?

Why didn't he step forward and say that he hadn't scored? What prevented him from taking the honorable path and simply telling the truth about where the ball ended up?

We all, ultimately, know the reasons. It was about money and prestige and the possibility of advancing toward the Super Bowl. It was about endorsements and The Hall of Fame.

It was not about morality. It was not about true sportsmanship or the idea of gentlemanly behavior.

"Everybody does it." "This time we got the break." "Ya win some, ya lose some."

Not, "It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game."

In 1950, UCLA head football coach Henry Russell "Red" Sanders told his players, "Men, I'll be honest. Winning isn't everything...it's the only thing!"

Coach, I'm sorry, but, no...it's not.

It is how you play the game.

That's what gets you into Heaven...

WTF...?!

Ok...I'm an idiot. Call me square and out of it and "unhip", if you like, but I just don't "get it..."

What the holy hell is the story with fashion these days?

I would love to do a social experiment sometime. I would love to take a camera and interview random people on the street, or at the mall, and ask them one simple question;

"Please explain your look."

I recently saw a middle-aged white man walking down the street with a Mohawk haircut. The reason I knew he was middle-aged was because his hair was...gray!

He also had an earring. A Mohawk and an earring.

Who was he trying to be? Theyendanegea?

A middle aged, middle class, middle of the road American man sporting a "do" that would make him the envy of every brave in the Iroquois tribe.

In Connecticut.

Walking down the street.

No settlers here my friend. No villages to attack. No cabins to plunder nor "wimmenfolk" to ravage.

Just folks in SUVs and mini-vans toodling around running errands. Nothing more adventurous than a trip to Walmart or the soccer field.

A gray Mohawk and an earring...and, actually, now that I re-emphasize it, a somewhat menacing look. Or maybe that was my impression.

I was so taken aback by his look that I guess I read menace into his demeanor.

Was he concealing a tomahawk? Was he intent on scalping me? Would he take my hair, which is also gray, and make it into a two piece wig to cover the shaven part of his bald head when he went on a job interview or a first date?

Was I going to be sacrficed on behalf of this fool's need to fit in with the rest of modern Northeastern society?

Was I going down because he had a median strip running down the middle of his middle-aged head?

I gathered my strength and did the only thing I could. I walked right by him, gave him a sidelong glance and, after we had passed one another, laughed the way Eddie Murphy did in Beverly Hills Cop when he walked passed the two guys in astronaut-like clothes.

I just laughed.

This guy looked ridiculous.

Maybe not to a squaw in Upstate New York.

But to me, a regular guy in Connecticut, he just looked plain silly.

But he may have thought the same of me. What with my designer jeans up to my nipples, my open patterned polyester shirt, my gold chain, my itty bitty pony tail and my Beatle boots with the zipper on the side.

Who knows...maybe I, too, had a menacing look. Maybe he was afraid that I'd attack him and steal his teeth.

I'm going to have to "chew" on that one for a while.

Pun intended...



Author's Note:

This is not meant to be racist in any way. I apologize, in advance, to any one I may have, inadvertently, offended.

I am not suggesting that the "look" described, is not a good one. It's fine for a Native American, who invented it.

Nor am I suggesting that Native Americans, are, or were, violent, as a group. History tells us that there were tragic interactions between the original residents of this land and the European immigrants. But that was usually in understandable response, by the normally peaceful natives, to the naked agression, prosletizing and land grabbing of the insatiable intruders.

I'm only saying that a non-Native American could look stupid posing as one...especially if his ancestors may have been responsible for the inhumane and immoral treatment of this country's indigenous population so many years ago that continues to this day on many of the reservations around the U.S.

I have used stereotype with poetic license only for it's intended effect. Native Americans are, and always have been, far more complicated and contributive to culture than mere stereotype could ever convey.

Good for the Casino tribes. The Native American's revenge on the stupid white men and their Mohawk haircuts!

Got an aspirin?

I'm going over the edge. I'm almost out of my mind.

I find myself, this morning, actually feeling sorry for...Willard!

Everyone is making fun of him and accusing him of not being enough of a conservative to be the Republican nominee for president.

Bear in mind that I loathe the man. Well, loathe is a bit strong. I don't particularly like him is more the truth of it. And while I could, as many others have, imagine having a beer and a burger with "W" and enjoying myself, I can't imagine breaking baguette with Mitt Romney.

He is everything I dislike in a man. First, he's supposed to be handsome. Maybe so to some women who like the white, European, blow-dried, stick-up-your-ass kind of guy. Not to me (does that make me gay...?)

Second he is truly out of touch with the reality of the people he wishes, so fervently, to lead. Too many houses for starters...

Third he reeks of entitlement as though the presidency should be his. (He may be following in his father's footsteps as a failed presidential candidate. Just because his grandfather was poorish doesn't make Mitt, the son of a governor for Christ's sake and a preppie who studied abroad...that doesn't give Willard the ability to relate to the "common man..." Quite the contrary, my good man...quite!)

And his raw desperation would be humorous if not so tragic.

And that's where the emotion comes in. His performance of late, with the incessant pandering, is making me feel sorry for him.

I always root for the underdog. In sports, in war, in politics. I don't like a guy when he's winning but I, sort of, root for him, under my breath, when he's losing.

And so it is with Willard. He may not be the last person I would want as president but he's close. I would much rather see him than Santorum or Gingrich...or Palin or Jeb Bush. At least I can somewhat relate to Romney. He is not so far afield from what I believe that I can't see him in the job.

Don't misunderstand...I don't want him or any other Republican. They've done enough damage in my lifetime, thank you.

But I feel sorry for the guy. He wants the gig so much. He's so needy about it.

But I have to get a grip. Romney is a jerk and doesn't deserve to be president. Anyone who would say that his sons are serving the country by helping to try to get him elected (see below) rather than on the front lines in Iraq...

WILL NEVER GET MY VOTE!!!!!

So there...! I feel much better now.

Thanks.




From The New York Times, August 8, 2007

CEDAR RAPIDS, Iowa — It is a question that Mitt Romney has gotten before on the campaign trail. Sometimes it is asked innocently; sometimes with a clear edge.

A woman at an Ask Mitt Anything forum earlier today in Iowa raised the question again, asking whether any of Mr. Romney’s five sons are serving in the military, adding pointedly, “If none of them are, how do they plan to support this war on terrorism by enlisting in our U.S. military?”

Although his campaign said his remarks were taken out of context, Mr. Romney’s response is drawing criticism, because he said, in part, “one of the ways my sons are showing support for our nation is helping to get me elected.”