What Fools These Mortals Be

Ship of Fools

(click to enlarge)

Friday YouTube

Musing

Dear President Bush,

People who do not understand history have no business making it.

Love,

Comrade Kevin.

Weighing in on Appeasement

I didn't want to write this post, but after seeing the shouting match on Hardball earlier this afternoon, I feel compelled to speak.

The Neo-Con right will always resort to the Neville Chamberlain/ Munich Agreement appeasement argument when they talk about the supposed War on Terror we are currently waging. Many like John Hagee see the struggle between radical Islam and Western Civilization as fulfillment of biblical End Times philosophy.

Good guys versus Bad guys.

White hats versus Black hats.

Anyone who deviates from this line of thinking is, in their opinion, wrong. Not just wrong, but doomed.

That's the Neo-con argument for Pre-Emptive warfare. Period.

Making a comparison between Radical Islam and Nazism is a dangerous one, mostly because they don't have much in common. Nazi Germany was a pervasive police state led by a sociopathic dictator who led a motley band of mafioso, knee-cap breakers, and assorted thugs into power. It was a well-oiled machine with a chillingly precise and uniform manner of conducting business.

By contrast, Radical Islam has no allegiance to a single state or a single philosophy. It's a movement that does not coalesce around any single nation or single manner of conducting business, regardless of what W and the rest of his followers would like you to believe. Fascism was certainly a potent threat in its day and age, but Mussolini, Hitler, and Franco played by different rules of conduct. What was true in 1939 is not true in 2008.

Comparing Fascism to Radical Islamic Terrorism is a lot like comparing apples to oranges. It just doesn't wash.

Radical Islam cannot be attacked by conventional tactics, because its membership cannot easily be defined. We're still arguing over why terrorism is created. The right has its own hypothesis. We on the left have our own.

By comparison, the reasons why the Nazis came to power are pretty much defined and agreed upon by historians. In short, the entire nation of Germany was in a state of depression and economic devastation so profound that it makes what we suffered in the Great Depression pale in comparison.

Radical Islam is comprised of a fringe element of determined followers, but it has no wholesale support among the greater community. The right peddles fear of the unknown very skillfully, as the right always will do. The right assumes that this threat will grow and spread until it infects the entire Middle East. We on the left believe differently.

The struggle we now face is that of trust versus fear and terrorism is just the latest variable in the ideological fight. Do you trust that we can negotiate with our enemies? Or, do you fear that doing so is not only dangerous, but will inevitably backfire?

Do you believe that radical Islam is like a cancerous growth that must be assaulted with massive doses of chemotherapy treatments, or do you concede that perhaps we had a hand in creating the mass division of cells in the first place?

That's where the argument has stalemated. The truth is somewhere in between.

How Do You Take This?

Macabre and incredibly naive? Or does it have something to say?

It seems like teen angst to me, circa 1970.

Disquieting Ironies

The human condition is often not a comforting notion.

The gift of being self-aware is a double edged-sword, and the life of the manic depression alternates drastically between insane self-confidence and neurotic apprehension of the self. I have destroyed myself with excesses and also built myself back. I have risen from the ashes many times but I never forget the error of my ways.

We get what's coming to us in the end. I certain reap what I've sown.

I call for the shape I'm in.
I've been first and last

And hypocrisy is also part of the human condition---it can be a tit-for-tat game of keeping score and usually that prefaces the end of any relationship, romantic or platonic. I admit my imperfections and I strive to make new mistakes, next time.

If there is a next time.

Can You Lend Us Fifty Quid to Mend the Shed?

I Don't Mind

If the rain comes they run
and hide their heads.

They might as well be dead.
If the rain comes, if the rain comes.

When the sun shines
they slip into the shade
(When the sun shines down.)

And sip their lemonade.
(When the sun shines down.)

When the sun shines,
when the sun shines.

Rain, I don't mind.
Shine, the weather's fine.

I can show you that
when it starts to rain,

(When the Rain comes down.)
Everything's the same.

(When the Rain comes down.)
I can show you, I can show you.

Rain, I don't mind.
Shine, the weather's fine.

Can you hear me,
that when it rains and shines,
(When it Rains and shines.)
It's just a state of mind?

(When it rains and shines.)
Can you hear me,
can you hear me?

sdaeh rieht edih dna nur yeht semoc niar eht fI.
(Rain)

naiR.

(Rain)

enihsnuS.

Edward's Endorsement Speech

I couldn't agree more.

The Dada Art Show Presentation

Paradigum
Political disasters Eaten by gut.

Why West Virginia Doesn't Matter

I'm not surprised by Hillary Clinton's sweeping victory last night in West Virginia. Not only did she deliberately play the gender card by imploring women to vote for her even when she cannot win the nomination, she injected race into the minds of potential voters as well. In doing so, she ran up the score.

What we saw last night was a backlash against the media and a few notable pundits, who painted working class white voters as racist and hopelessly backwards. Indeed, the media spoke the truth. It is notable that when a person is wrong and will not admit it, he or she will often become angry. White working class anger is what we saw in yesterday's primary.

The voters of West Virginia lashed out and made their voices heard in the same way that voters of New Hampshire lashed out against the conventional wisdom back in January--handing their votes to Hillary Clinton rather than Barack Obama.

As an Obama supporter, I do not find the results troubling or upsetting, regardless of how the media would like to spin this out. Yes, West Virginia was, at one time, a Democratic stronghold but over the years it has become a conservative bastion, solidly red and solidly conservative. The last realigning Presidential election in 1968 turned the solidly Democratic south solidly GOP and the same dynamic is at play in West Virginia.

I don't fault Obama for not putting resources into West Virginia. We forget that these candidates are human being sometimes. Barack is, lest we forget, the father of two young girls and husband to Michelle. I would prefer he preserve his sanity, his marriage, and his peace of mind than to exhaust himself campaigning for a state he had no chance of winning. If he had gone into West Virginia gangbusters, he might have narrowed the gap, but he would not have won the Mountaineer state. The dynamics simply do not favor him, and no matter what the media says, most people will vote for the GOP come November in that state.

Hillary Clinton is not going to go away because her strategy now appears to be to make a compelling case why she should be Obama's Vice President. I would caution him strongly before putting her on the ticket. Indeed, she and Bill will likely use their strong hand with pledged delegates and super-delegates to directly influence the Cabinet of a presumptive Obama administration. The Clinton ego signals to me, at least, an uncomfortable marriage where he will be largely hamstrung by the whims of two egomanics: Hillary and Bill Clinton.

With Hillary Clinton on the ticket, the rust belt states that compromise Appalachia might be in play, but I strongly question whether Senator Obama should take the risk. The Clintons would not delegate responsibility well and I see them attempting to hijack his power and his administration for their own gains.

The Truth

Let's chat. In usual fashion, I'm going to be totally truthful.

The past few weeks a side of me has appeared that I don't particularly like. It's an angry, bitter, spiteful, petty, vindictive sort of viciousness that is nothing I am particularly proud of displaying to the world. I'm not going to excuse it or chalk it up to anything. I own up to this. Do know this--I'm not particularly pleased with my behavior, either.

It is an unfortunate part of me that reveals itself during a state of dysphoria.

Dysphoria alone doesn't explain my recent behavior. I'll attempt to diagnosis the reasons why you've seen this extremely dark, not particularly endearing side of who I am. Some of this you know already, but please let me underscore it in totality.

I'm a pretty lethal package of some incredible emotional problems.

1. MAOI induced mania.
2. Incredible frustration because I've been having frequent mood swings
3. A history of childhood sexual abuse, which makes me afraid of men, hate men, loathe my own masculinity, and display some degree of gender dysphoria
4. A completely unregulated mixed state
5. Medication that doesn't work properly because my condition is so unusual that even the best minds of psychiatry can't fix it
6. Bipolar disorder

Rest assured, I wouldn't want to be around me right now, either.

Depression creates a sense of sympathy. Dysphoria just makes you seem like an angry prick.

Right now, I'm an angry prick. I admit that.

And, I really don't want to be. This is not who I am and I do not ask for your sympathy.

Today I've been having panic attacks, crying fits, and rapidly cycling moods. I understand your distance.

And Now for Something Completely Different

Being that I have an unexpected batch of time on my hands, I have decided to participate in sweeps week, which is this Thursday, 15 May until next Wednesday 21 May. Usually I keep my TV watching to a minimum, viewing either MSNBC to monitor politics or partaking in the occasional film on Turner Classic Movies. Television is something I keep to a minimum because reading, writing, and art are much more interesting to me.

The Neilsen ratings folks have dangled $30 in front of me to entice me to keep a log of the programs I view on a daily basis. This surprises me. Either they've adjusted their prices to keep up with inflation or they're really eager/desperate to get an objective picture of who is watching what. Being a creature of habit, I've already filled out most of the week's viewing already. Whomever has to input the data from my journal is going to have an easy job of it.

I am a little hesitant, because the Bill Hicks side of me doesn't want to pander to the marketing and advertising evil around me, but $30 is $30, after all, and I am beyond broke.

The Sad Truth

I laughed, but this is almost not even funny.

Here I Go Again

Here's another godforsaken mention of scripture and expression of faith. Let's see who it makes uncomfortable this time.
____________________________

Jesus presented this parable to the crowd.

Imagine a man who, before going abroad, sent for his officials and entrusted his money to them. Then he gave five talents to one, to another he gave two, and to a third, just one; to each the amount proportioned to his individual ability. He then went abroad. At once, the recipient of the five talents went to invest them in enterprise and made another five. In like manner, the recipient of the two talents made another two. But the recipient of the one talent went away to dig a hole in the ground and buried his master's money. After a long delay, the master of those officials returned and settled accounts with them. So the recipient of the five talents came forward and presented five additional talents. `Master," he said, "you entrusted me with five talents. Look, I made another five." "Well done, good and faithful servant,' the master said to him. "You were faithful in managing something small. I will now put you in charge of something great. Share to the full your master's happiness."

When the recipient of the two talents came, he said in turn, "Master, you entrusted me with two talents. Look, I made another two." "Well done, good and faithful servant," the master said to him. "You were faithful in managing something small. I will now put you in charge of something great. Share to the full your master's happiness."

Finally the recipient of the one talent came before him and said, "Master, I know you are a hard taskmaster. You reap where you have not sown and you store away what you have not winnowed. So I shrank from doing anything at all and went

But his master had an answer for him. "You lazy good-for-nothing fellow," he said to him, "you knew that I reap where I have not sown and store away what I have winnowed. Then you ought to have put my money in the bank and on my return I might have at least recovered my capital plus the interest. Therefore, take the talent away from him and give it to the one who has the ten talents. Everyone who already has will receive more yet till he abounds in wealth, while the one who does not have will lose even what he has."

___________________________

This last man was thinking only of himself--playing it safe and protecting himself from his hard taskmaster. He was judged for his self-centered behavior. We must not make excuses to avoid what God calls us to do. If God is truly our master, we must obey willingly. Our time, abilities, and money aren't ours in the first place--we are caretakers, not owners.

And for those of you out there who would prefer a more secular reading, let me say it this way. You can hide from the truth, or you can proclaim it. Those who stick their necks out will suffer, but only through suffering and daring to proclaim the truth will you ever reach the Kingdom of God. And by "The Kingdom of God" I don't necessarily mean heaven.

I mean PEACE OF MIND, friends.

Wait For It

VoicePost 200K 2:06

(transcribe)

Revelation

Page 22 in my edition

___________

I'd discovered...that if you do something incorrect...with a certain degree of arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up.

They will think you are original and very witty.

Quite The Domestic I Am

1.


2.


3.

Key

3. The white person cookbook, 1976 edition.

2. Sugar cookie batter, uncooked.

1. Sprinkles. At least five years old, potentially older. Hopefully non-toxic

Here For Everyone

To Bookend What I Said Earlier This Morning

I've been reading up on African-American history, which is an unmitigated sense of tragedies and ironies. Don't read up on it if you want to have your spirits uplifted---the story is not a particularly happy one.

Deciding to put my money where my mouth is, I've taken the opportunity to focus on Reconstruction. I have to say that I understand the frustration of those in that time who advanced a Pro-Republican, Pro-African-American perspective. Indeed, white racism contributed the demise of the movement, which had started out with such great promise. However, in saying this, let me also state that there are two sides to every conflict. As C. Vann Woodward noted, there is too much irony mixed in with the tragedy for anyone or any side to take full credit for its existence.

What I faced at a Unitarian Universalist youth conference five years ago was no exact facsimile of what transpired over a hundred years ago in the South. In reality, it was an over-reaching response that was rooted in good intentions. But good intentions are often the means by which the road to hell is paved and in this instance, I saw directly what can happen when militant, radical politics intersect with common sense. To wit, common sense does not always win out.

The impetus for my speaking out this morning was rooted in a desire for us to confront racism, classism, and discrimination directly, instead of resorting to glancing blows. Directly is the only way by which we will set these unfortunate flaws in humanity aside forever.

I experienced firsthand the drawbacks of affirmative action and an entitlement mentality for three days consecutively. Fostered by a group of radicals, I saw many of the fears of conservatives fully realized. But I know now this kind of excess is unlikely to occur in a more moderate setting; it is unlikely to occur being that we have experienced a great amount of pain and upheaval in the 1960s and 1970s over this very conflict. Being there for those stressful three days felt, in retrospect, like a return to the past, as though I was in some bizarre time warp.

We owe it to ourselves to not let our fringes define us. Moderate voices will keep us in power. We cannot begin to reframe the political landscape if we start from a radical approach first. The older I get, the less I see the appeal of radical politics and the more I understand the appeal of more moderate responses to fix our problems.

Happy Mother's Day

If you don't have a song
To sing you're okay

You know how to get along
Humming

If you don't have a date
Celebrate

Go out and sit on the lawn
And do nothing

'Cause it's just what you must do
Nobody does it anymore

No I don't believe
in the wasting of time,

But I don't believe that I'm wasting mine

If you don't have a point to make
Don't sweat it

You'll make a sharp one being so kind
And I'd sure appreciate it

Everyone else's goal's
to get big headed

Why should I follow
that beat being that I'm

Better than fine?

The Flaws of Minority-Majority Politics

I've held back telling this story for five years, but now seems the appropriate time. Those who choose to read this, kindly come with me to Southern Ontario, Canada, in August of 2003.

_____________________

At the time, I was a Unitarian Universalist. Proud of being a flaming liberal in a conservative state, I felt the very organic kind of paranoia, isolation, and the inevitable sensation of feeling misunderstood that characterizes any unapologetic leftist in a red state.

So it was that the Mid-South district, of which I was a member, needed a representative to visit the yearly young adult conference. I eagerly agreed to go. The annual meeting of the minds of young movers and shakers of the denomination seemed like an exciting prospect. I was twenty-two at the time and far more idealistic than I am now, and despite my youth, I was also blessed with an intensely pragmatic streak. The roots of this came directly from seeing my state turn a frustrating shade of red in every Presidential election I could remember.

What greeted me upon arrival was not peace, love, and understanding. Rather, I walked into the middle of a hornet's nest.

The hostility I was greeted with immediately upon arrival had been fostered by an unfortunate racial dynamic which had transpired a few days before my arrival. It had been introduced when a white female from somewhere up North (and rather open lesbian, as I recall)* had unfortunately automatically presumed that the leader of the Anti-Oppression/Anti-Racism training, an African-American female from Tennessee, was a bellhop. This incident, as it would be referred to later, had apparently occurred immediately after arrival, while in the process of loading up the car by which fellow con attendees would make the short trip from the Toronto airport to the campsite where the conference was to be held.

Pick up my bags, she'd said, unbelievably.

Well, suffice to say this kind of callous demand didn't go over very well and the results of it trickled over to every function. In doing so this tainted the entire conference.

At the time, I wasn't aware of what had transpired prior to my arrival, but when I heard of it weeks later, I shook my head in disgust. Being from the South, let it be known I know better than to say silly things like this. This kind of shockingly racist language is nothing that would even cross my mind, which is why it took me aback.

It's been beat into my head since birth that racism is simply not kosher. Since many Americans assume that racism only exists down here in the South, or at minimum, overtly racist acts happen down here and only here, I have a understandably large chip on my shoulder as a direct consequence of that presumption, which is rooted in stereotype, not fact.

I digress.

At any rate, what had been initially intended to be a helpful discussion intending to bring submerged racism and oppressive viewpoints to the forefront very quickly became let's hate on whitey. So here I was with my white face, male, presumably heterosexual, and with a pronounced southern drawl. Suffice to say no one gave me the benefit of the doubt when I opened my mouth. Or if they listened, no one stood with me.

I saw minority-majority politics pushed the forefront. Affirmative Action on steroids is the best way I can describe the way the conference was led. White males were asked directly not to speak first when meetings were led. Almost every position of authority was granted to a minority, regardless of their skill or talent level. The intent was not malicious, but what transpired was, at minimum, deeply unfair.

I joked bitterly that if a person was a male to female transgender, half Asian, half African-American, then she would stand the best chance of winning elective office. The pecking order was flipped upside down, but the end result was the same. Instead of putting aside dynamics that had kept minorities in shackles, liberal guilt-complex politics came to the forefront, instead. Reverse racism and reverse discrimination is what resulted.

Needless to say I was the low person on the totem pole.

We were all so young, though. I can't forget that as I muse upon these observations. The oldest member of the group of 100 or so souls at the meeting was thirty five years old, which is an age that I once saw as ancient, yet now am only a few years away from attaining myself.

Recently, these conferences have been rescinded by the Unitarian Universalist powers that be, and for good reason, since problems like these were far too commonplace. The point of me making light of this conference is not to stick it to UUs, or to try to clear my name, or to be patently controversial but rather to remind all of us that church politics, radical activism, and a lack of irony spell doom for all religious liberals if we do not temper our desire for social reform with a kind of pragmatism and moderation not at all in evidence by the recent rantings of Reverend Jeremiah A. Wright.

From the distance of five years, the proceedings I experienced appear ridiculous rather than racist. The wounds wrought seem indicative of a kind of narcissistic, naive navel-gazing, rather than anything substantial or of much consequence. But by the mere fact that this happened, I feel as though I can understand the fear of many conservatives when the idea of Barack Obama as President crosses their minds.

They are afraid of this kind of response, which although it is extreme and not likely to occur on any large scale, is rooted in more than just paranoid delusions of the right.

So let's ensure that radical voices are kept at bay and we entertain sensible, rational notions. Let's not be painted into a corner by GOP scare tactics.

Here is their fear.

* meant to emphasize that even LGBT individuals can hold racist viewpoints. Believe it or not.

** I'm far too sedated to be eloquent, so pardon my inarticulate prose.

Hold On For Tomorrow

He's a twentieth century boy
With his hands on the rails

Trying not to be sick again
And holding on for tomorrow

London ice cracks on a seamless line
He's hanging on for dear life
So we hold each other tightly

And hold on for tomorrow

Singing
La la, la la la
La la la la la la la la

Holding on for tomorrow
...oh, oh, oh, oh, oh...

She's a twentieth century girl
With her hands on the wheel

Trying not to make him sick again
Seeing what she can borrow

London's so nice back in your seamless rhymes
But we're lost on the westway

So we hold each other tightly
And hold on for tomorrow

Singing
La la, la la la
La la la la la la la la

Holding on for tomorrow

Trying not to be sick again
And holding for tomorrow

She's a twentieth century girl
Hanging on for dear life

So we hold each other tightly
And hold on for tomorrow

Singing
La la, la la la
La la la la la la la la
Holding on for tomorrow

Jim stops and gets out the car,
Goes to a house in emperor's gate,

Through the door and to his room,
Then he puts the tv on,

Turns it off and makes some tea,
Says modern life is rubbish
I'm

Holding on for tomorrow,

Then Susan comes into the room,
She's a naughty girl with a lovely smile,

Says lets take a drive to primrose hill,
It's windy there and the view's so nice,

London ice can freeze your toes
Like anyone I suppose

You're
Holding on for tomorrow?

The Key To Understanding Me In a Mixed State is Simple...

Do you pity this guy, or feel like he should deserve to be alone?

If it were someone else besides me, I'd favor the latter, personally. He's unintentionally intolerable to be around.

I Knew It All Along

And it doesn't really matter anymore, honestly.

So here's the truth.

At best, I am going to bounce back and forth between extremes my whole life. I have such a severe, extreme case of bipolar that my ability to function and hold down anything resembling a life, a relationship, or anything we here in America call a successful, normal, healthy existence is practically impossible.

When they find a cure for bipolar disorder, then I'll be free. Suffice to say I'm not holding my breath. And until that point, what I do or say or post here or anywhere else is really of no consequence. Those who would oppose me or be incredibly critical of the things I've said need to understand that I really don't have anything to lose anymore.

Most people who blog with me---you guys have what would be called "a life". You have marriages, children, careers, friends, and a lot going for you. Or if you don't have it now, you will have it later. I don't have that going for me, at all. I probably never will, until they come up with more effective medications, or dare I even hope it, a cure. As it stands right now, I'm totally screwed.

If you scour through my past or confront people who have known me, you'll realize quite quickly that I have only been able to maintain sanity for brief glimmers of time. I don't really care to have any secrets anymore, friends, or any real desire to hold anything back. Keeping things back is the domain of people with something to lose. I will linger on food stamps and SSI for the rest of my life and though it was deeply painful to choke down what was left of my pride, I've done it.

But had I lived forty years ago, I'd be either committed to an asylum like my Great-Grandmother Smith, or be lobotomized away like one of the Kennedy siblings. So I suppose I have to benefit at least from the vague hope promised by 21st century medicine.

What does it matter, really? I could be in the bowels of depression next week, wishing I was dead. Or I could be on the uptick towards mania. There ain't no in between. I'm either going up or going down and happy mediums are for those without this affliction. And there's always the chance things will get worse and I'll stop commenting someday and disappear off the face of the earth. Rest assured, if I die by my own hand, there won't be any editorializing. It won't be advertised or telegraphed. I'll just be dead.

One of my friends blew his brains out in a park. Took me by surprise for sure. The needle has a way of doing that. I wish I could get the image out of my head, but it'll be there for the rest of my life. And no, I won't describe it for you.

Interweb drama aside, I don't really think you understand me.

So here's my last secret. I'm a defective human being.

And if you want the satisfaction of throwing that back in my face, it's yours.

The Older I Get, The More I Love This Part

Posting Pictures of Food On A Blog

homemade peanut butter muffins



deliberately out of focus



part three of three, taken by a shaky hand on an extremely cheap digital camera
__________________

Posting pictures of homemade food and posting it on one's personal blog is a deeply meaningful action in white culture.

It implies many things, particularly if the poster is male. It implies that the male who posted the food is in touch with his feminine side, and might or might not be gay. At minimum, the man is attempting to seem metro-sexual, although this term is dating quickly and largely falling out of favor in white culture.

It also implies that the poster is self-sufficient. This deeply symbolic gesture impresses potential female suitors, none of whom wish to date or be married to a traditional male who, circa 1954, expects to eat a home-cooked meal every night, or to have a subservient wife to produce pipe, slippers, and newspaper for him to read in front of the fire upon arrival home from work.

Saturday Song, Part II

A cynical song by a cynical lady.




Please please please
No more melodies

They lack impact, they're petty
They've been made up already

Please please please
No more maladies

I'm so tired of crying
You'd think I was a siren

But me and everybody's
on the sad same team

And you can hear our
sad brains screaming

Give us something familiar
Something similar

To what we know already
That will keep us steady

Steady

Steady
going nowhere

Please please please
No apologies

At best they buy you time
Till you next step out of line

Please please please
No more remedies

My method is uncertain
It's a mess but it's working

And maybe if you want
to try it out

You won't like it so,
when you're crying out

Give us something familiar
Something similar

To what we know already
That will keep us steady

Steady, steady
Steady going nowhere

Please please please
No more melodies

They lack impact, they're petty
They've been made up already

Please please please
No more maladies

I'm so tired of crying
You'd think I was a siren

But me and everybody's on the
sad same team and

You can hear our
sad brains screaming

Give us something familiar
Something similar

To what we know already
That will keep us steady
Steady, steady, steady

Steady going nowhere

Please please please
No apologies

At best they buy you time
Till you next step out of line

Please please please
No more remedies

My method is uncertain
It's a mess but it's working

And maybe if you want
to try it out

You won't like it so,
when you're crying out

Give me something familiar
Somethin' similar

To what we know already
That will keep us steady

Steady, steady
Steady going nowhere

Saturday Video

This was Neil Young's parting shot before leaving Buffalo Springfield, a direct songwriting response to his feuding bandmates. At face value, it is a coy, warmly critical answer to Richie Furay's "A Child's Claim to Fame", a rather nastily nice swipe at him, which ended up on the second Buffalo Springfield album, titled Buffalo Springfield Again.

"I Am a Child" is also a statement of purpose, revealing Young's intentions as a solo artist.

Love him or hate him, Neil was right. He has lasted a while, remaining mysterious and inscrutable in the process.



I am a child,
I'll last a while.

You can't conceive
of the pleasure in my smile.

You hold my hand,
rough up my hair,

It's lots of fun
to have you there.

God gave to you,
now, you give to me,

I'd like to know
what you learned.

The sky is blue
and so is the sea.

What is the color,
when black is burned?

What is the color?

You are a man, you understand.
You pick me up

and you lay me down again.

You make the rules,
you say what's fair,

It's lots of fun
to have you there.

God gave to you,
now, you give to me,

I'd like to know
what you learned.

The sky is blue
and so is the sea.

What is the color,
when black is burned?

What is the color?

I am a child, I'll last a while.

You can't conceive
of the pleasure in my smile.

Where I Am Today

The American Street, of course!

Happy, Um, Mother's Day

Pastor Manning manages to offend everyone again.

The Conventional Wisdom Surely Has Changed

The Coup d'Grace

A Hint of What Growing Up Was Like

I shall say no more.

To My Father

You aren't a good old boy anymore, so stop acting like it.

The American Dream applies to you, too, so own it.

The Average Day in Britain, Personified

The Road Ahead

Now that we have our nominee, we can move towards healing the schism in our own party. We'll have ample time to do this before August, and in many ways I see the beginning signs of reconciliation. It is rather telling that most of the damage done to both Clinton and Obama was done primarily by each candidate's surrogates, rarely by anything they themselves proposed.

As we move to the general election in November, a major challenge will be attempting to put to ease the minds of many white voters. The Republican party will either clandestinely or overtly rise a spectre in the minds of many: that of the fear of the black man in power. They will skillfully use fear to convince whites that a presumptive Obama administration will put into effect reparations for slavery, reverse discrimination, and a flip-flop of the conventional power structure--one which specifically puts into place Affirmative Action programs on steroids.

Whites will be encouraged to fear that putting blacks in power will mean that they will be subordinate to black causes. Not only that, as this line of thinking will go--black leaders will take the opportunity to stick it to white people because of years of being treated like inferiors by the majority. There will always be a certain dynamic of white people who see any black face as Malcolm X, pre-1965.

We might dismiss these beliefs as rooted in little more than race-baiting, fear-mongering politics meant to divide and scare up votes, but for many white people, these are very potent concerns.

The roots of this go as far back as Birth of a Nation or the Reconstruction period, and try though we wish, we cannot take them away by wishful thinking alone. They are there and they will not go away easily.

Until this point, we have been arguing amongst ourself, among fellow Democrats. Very shortly, however, we are going to be arguing among everyone, and conservative voices will be scathingly condemnatory. It will be quite a challenge to find common ground. To many conservatives, Obama's ascendancy is their worst nightmare and despite Senator Obama's approach of bi-partisan compromise, he will be seen as a deceiver.

How will we combat these tactics and overcome them to win the White House?

I Couldn't Resist

On to November.

Perception IS Reality

As a Barack Obama supporter from the beginning, I could, if I so chose, take this opportunity to gloat.

But, following Senator Obama's example, I will refrain. I'm exhausted more than enthused, to be totally honest with you.

The old guard never goes away quietly and I am not surprised that tonight Hillary Clinton has, in effect, chosen to set the terms of her concession. She has, after all, the right and she has the clout. This is, after all, the Clinton machine---Mr. and Mrs. Democratic Party for the last twenty years we're talking about. And, to give this evening some sense of perspective, let's not forget that this wasn't supposed to happen.

Even with Indiana's narrow victory for the junior Senator from New York, this was still Obama's night to celebrate. I never anticipated this kind of race. I fully expected Obama to finish a distant second place and pad his nest for future runs. However, with a combination of luck and good long-range planning, I must give credit where credit is due. I am thrilled at this outcome, but it isn't any resounding kind of rousing victory. This is the way the race ends-- rather like a whimper, instead of a resolute bang.

Those of us who wish to have politics as blood sport have been most displeased. Neither candidate is a knife fighter and there have been no snappy one-liners, devastating revelations, or knock-out punches thrown. There's a large part of me who is, admittedly, frustrated at this result. Perhaps I expect politics as usual.

That being said, those who love dirty politics I think are going to get more than their share when we have Obama versus McCain for the next five-six months. If you are thoroughly sick of Presidential politics, accusations, and mudslinging then kindly tune out starting now because it's going to get much worse and far louder. If you thrive on politics and the minutia of it, then it doesn't get much better than this, my fellow amateur policy wonks.

Now, let us entertain the inevitable speculation regarding Obama's Vice Presidential pick. It will run rampant through Democratic circles and innumerable blog posts for the foreseeable future. I'll probably chime in on that debate in depth later, but suffice to say that if I were Obama would pick Bill Richardson of New Mexico hands down; I believe that the historical precedent of an African-American and Latino on the same ticket would make a powerful statement to this nation and the rest of the world. That's just my two cents. Take it for what you will. No doubt you out there reading this have your equally valid pick and I look forward to seeing it for at least the next two weeks solid.

Let's heal our wounds and head to November. At long last, it seems to be over.

About Fucking Time

Congratulations, Senator and Mrs. Obama.

The Problem with Conservative Ideology

It's well and good to tell someone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps,

until, of course, you steal their boots.

The Battle of Dueling Theories

When you get right down to it, beliefs are certainly odd. As Bill Hicks said, just believing something doesn't make it real. It's all in how you were brought up or how your viewpoint was shaped by your environment and your life experiences.

The point I'm trying to get across is that though I hold strongly liberal points of view, I strive not to make idols of what I believe--these collectively explain, in my opinion, the way things really are and the way things ought to be. So as I have confronted the opposition conservative platform of John McCain and listened to the variety of factions within the Democratic party, I am left with more questions than answers. Perhaps this is not that surprising.

I stand behind my strong opinions, but I always entertain the view that I could be wrong. Saying this does not imply that my faith in my own judgments is extremely weak, but rather it denotes that I have come to the conclusion that absolutes are few in this world. It is tempting for us to wish to live in a black and white paradigm, but I believe that the concept of shades of grey is the most accurate portrayal of the complexities of human existence, including political theory.

The same motifs we have always seen during every election cycle for the Presidency will be out in full force from now until November. We have seen them already and will seen them for the next six months: Experience versus Trust. Change versus Fear. Hawks versus Doves. And so on and so on.

The real answer is somewhere in between these polar extremes. So it is up to us to re-frame the paradigm. To be sure, many of the brightest, sharpest minds have been hard at work attempting that very same thing. And, be it known, I acknowledge their efforts and have even co-opted some of their ideas into my political canon. I've learned quite a bit from fellow bloggers and will continue to do so. I do know this---if we work together for a common goal, our power is limitless and massive. However, if we argue over semantics and nit-pick, we won't accomplish much of anything.

And in truth, if we were all completely honest with each other, we would concede that none of our theories are perfect. But so long as we debate them in a spirit of mutual respect, then all will be well and good. Nothing is as stale as an idea that no one bothers to debate. So long as people are re-honing and improving someone's pet idea, then we can correctly infer that this idea must have some relevance and resonance to the present day. I am as bad as anyone of getting my feelings hurt when someone dares to point out the flaws in my beloved argument, but I too need to heed my own advice and take criticism not as a mean-spirited swipe, but a desire to improve upon it.

The Memories of a Man

Right side up



or upside down?



Faint praise.


grizzled and exhausted.





supernova spirals


richly painted

mausoleum

Preparing For The Road Ahead

Even if Obama exceeds expectations, winning both North Carolina and Indiana, I doubt Hillary Clinton will concede. What most have tacitly conceded is a split in tomorrow's primaries: Indiana narrowly for Clinton, and North Carolina surprising close but still a win for Team Obama.

The delegate count is not likely to budge either way.

For the sake of brainstorming, I wonder how we out here in the blogosphere are going to frame the narrative for the road ahead. I'd like to see your opinions and what you out there feel ought to be the course pursued for the next few weeks as well as for however long this beat-down lasts.

Personally, I'm caught in between two extremes. Part of me enjoys the exciting roller-coaster combined with the adrenalin nerves of this election and the other part of me is scared to death that in the torrent of emotions and ruffled feathers, we are slowly throwing the Presidency to John McCain.






If you could see yourself now, baby
It's not my fault
You used to be so in control

You're going to roll right over this one
Just roll me over, let me go

You're laying blame
Take this as no, no, no

You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,
Blame, blame, blame

You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,
It's not my thing so let it go.

If you could see yourself now baby,
The tables have turned

The whole world hinges on your swings
Your secret life of indiscreet discretions

I'd turn the screw and leave the screen,
Don't point your finger,

You know that's not my thing

You came to bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,
Blame, blame, blame

You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,
It's not my thing so let it go.

You've got a little worry,
I know it all too well,
I've got your number,


But so does every kiss-and-tell
Who dares to cross your threshold,

Or happens on your way,
Stop laying blame.

You know that's not my thing.

You know that's not my thing,
You came to bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,
Blame, blame, blame

You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,
It's not my thing so let it go.

You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,
Blame, blame, blame
You bang, bang, bang, bang and bang,

It's not my thing so let it go.

You kiss on me,
tug on me,
rub on me,
jump on me,

You bang on me,
beat on me, hit on me,
let go on me,

You let go on me.

Simultaneously Revealing and Not Very Surprising

My Personality

Neuroticism	100
Extraversion	39
Openness to Experience	99
Agreeableness	13
Conscientiousness	75

You are sensitive about what others think of you. Your concern about rejection and ridicule cause you to feel shy and uncomfortable around others. You are easily embarrassed and often feel ashamed. Your fears that others will criticize or make fun of you are exaggerated and unrealistic, but your awkwardness and discomfort may make these fears a self-fulfilling prophecy, however you experience panic, confusion, and helplessness when under pressure or stress. You tend to feel overwhelmed by, and therefore actively avoid, large crowds. You often need privacy and time for yourself. Familiar routines are good, but sometimes you like to spice up your life with a bit of adventure or activity. You are mostly a compassionate person, however you prefer to make objective judgments when possible, however you are not adverse to confrontation and will sometimes even intimidate others to get your own way. You strive hard to achieve excellence. Your drive to be recognized as successful keeps you on track toward your lofty goals. You often have a strong sense of direction in life, but may sometimes be too single-minded and obsessed with your work.

Take a Personality Test now or view the full Personality Report. The best Ugg Boots

Phase One, in Which Doris Gets Her Oats

I dig
a pony.

Do You Swear in the Night?

Do you curse where you come from,
Do you swear in the night?

Will it mean much to you
If I treat you right.

Do you like what you're doing,
Would you do it some more

Or will you stop once and wonder
What you're doing it for.

Hey slow Jane, make sense
Slow, slow, Jane, cross the fence.

Do you feel like a remnant
Of something that's past?

Do you find things are moving
Just a little too fast?

Do you hope to find new ways
Of quenching your thirst,

Do you hope to find new ways
Of doing better than your worst.

Hey slow Jane, let me prove
Slow, slow Jane, we're on the move.

Do it for you,
Sure that you would do the same for me one day.

So try to be true,
Even if it's only in your hazy way.

Can you tell if you're moving
With no mirror to see,

If you're just riding a new man
Looks a little like me.

Is it all so confusing,
Is it hard to believe?

When the winter is coming
Can you sign up and leave.

Hey slow Jane, live your lie
Slow, slow jane, fly on by.

Ay, Here's the Rub

Love her or hate her, you can't deny that she's a polarizing figure. There is no in between.

Self-Portrait

Paranoia strikes deep.

Memoir

Uncle Joe never wanted to talk much about the war.

I can't say I blame him, really. Only with the death of my Grandmother did I learn about the turmoil of fighting in the European Theater during World War II. She kept the letters he'd written in the bottom of her jewelry box, tied together with string underneath a multitude of well-meaning, but ultimately rarely worn presents of silver, gold, and semi-rare precious stones.

"Letters from Joe, WWII" was the preface to this collection, scrawled with a blue ink pen on a dusty, faded sheet of cheap paper in my grandmother's familiar palmer-method long hand, shaky and slanted.

Joe enlisted without a second thought. The way to impress the girls and prove your manhood was to sign up. When the first army recruiter came to the Sound he jumped at the chance. Although technically a month or so underage, the eager recruiter cleverly falsified his birth-date by thirty crucial days. It was easy to manipulate records in those days before internet databases. His mother had been committed to an insane asylum fifteen years before, so there was no maternal presence to cry and beg that her youngest child reconsider. Lucky Strike greens had gone to war, and now it was his turn.

Fresh-faced and largely naive of the outside world, he looked forward to seeing Paris and the rest of Europe, which seemed glamorous locals. This had no doubt been fostered by romanticized portrayals in films and the ubiquitous propaganda newsreels. It was a quite a turnaround from the way he felt in later years; He would often joke that the farthest he got was Belgium and one trip abroad was enough. This is why he declined the opportunity to visit the Continent in later years.

Reading through the letters I found a rare portrait of the nasty reality of war, which I'm honestly surprised got through the censors. Even pictures of American war dead were officially verboten in the popular press. The president was officially crippled, although the media was, in those days, quite careful to never show the President in a wheelchair or with his cumbersome and bulky leg braces on.

Uncle hadn't been in country long before the grim reality of warfare reared its ugly head. A fast friend he'd made from training camp died abruptly in front of his eyes. They had been cracking jokes and boasting about female conquests likely rooted in nothing more than wishful thinking when German long-range artillery brought a sudden end to the light-hearted atmosphere. He never saw it coming. None of them did, really. They were mulling about bored, concealed by the heavy canvass of a beige colored tent when the German counter attack ripped into the Allied Lines.

Later it would become known as the Battle of the Bulge. Uncle Joe was one of the unfortunate GIs in the front lines. By some miracle, he would escape with only shrapnel lodged in his left calf. The friend, however, was not so lucky and had the misfortune of having his face rather abruptly and rudely ripped apart. The friend (his name must be lost to humanity) died instantly. Uncle observed this all directly in front of his face, and despite his wounds ran outside in some sort of combination of fear and adrenalin to observe the German tank several yards beyond which had launched the fateful salvo.

He passed out from a combination of shock and loss of blood only to regain consciousness in a military hospital.

The doctor informed him upon his regaining consciousness that he was headed back home. Uncle wanted to stay and fight, but the doctor was kind, but firm. No more fighting.

V-E day came five months later, in April of 1945.

The Reality of Taxation

Americans have historically been fearful and suspicious of paying taxes. This comes as no surprise to any of you, I am aware. From the American Revolution through today, speaking out against high taxes is a sure-fire applause line and thus no candidate for office would be caught dead advocating for its increase.

Rather than lamenting the fears, ignorance, and prejudices of those who are hellbent against anything the least bit suggestive of an increased tax burden, let's try to look past rhetoric for a moment.

It is a traditional Democratic talking point to invoke populism and tax burden, particularly populism's sounding cry: the rich must be forced to bear and shoulder more of the burden.

While it is true that the economic policies of George W. Bush have benefited the haves at the expense of the have nots, what is often forgotten is the reality of taxation.

1. If the richest 1% of all Americans paid the majority of their income in taxation, it would not even make a drop in the bucket regarding our deficit. What would result instead would be a wholesale transfer of funds to other countries, off-shore accounts, and a multitude of wealthy tax-evaders who would use dubiously ethical (but still nonetheless legal means) [loopholes] to avoid paying into the system.

So raising taxes on the wealthy is not much of a solution. They won't pay their fair share no matter what strategies are proposed and implemented.

2. The middle class pay the greatest share of taxes. Thus, is it surprising that so many people vote with their pocketbook? Political allegiance, devotion to candidate, and passion aside, most people who aren't political junkies and amateur policy wonks vote based on the simple premise: What will YOU do to help me out?

The other, cynical side of this premise is---Who will screw me over the least?

Raising taxes is no panacea. Smarter government is the solution.

I do believe government has a moral duty to assist and regulate businesses and individuals, but what I object to strongly is throwing money at a problem or increasing red tape and needless complications.

_____________

By this point, Democratic voters have had ample time to make up their minds between either Obama or Clinton. The next fight will be for the votes of independents, who need to be convinced why voting Democratic in November would be to their benefit. The all-important swing votes that will decide this election may find McCain an attractive alternative to either candidate.

So whomever secures the Democratic nomination better make a compelling case to independent voters or we will have another four years of GOP control of the executive branch.

I'm Not Angry (Anymore)

Today I am at The American Street

But only as a musician.

Saturday Video

This song, a paeon to the less than glamorous side of heroin addiction, is one of my favorites of all time. Lou Reed's stark lyrics are skillfully paired with John Cale's staccato piano. The choppy, herky jerky rhythm of Reed's guitar prefaces punk by ten whole years.

Minimalistic rock swagger and utterly brilliant.

The New Game

It's called passive-aggressive bullying.

You cleverly disguise your immaturity by taking shots at other bloggers who intimidate you, but who you would certainly never dare confront directly--no, that would just be too awkward.

Here's a link to Pammy Atlas in case you get bored.

My Own Award

I think I deserve the Lovable Curmudgeon Award.

But I've decided against making my own icon. That would be irony overkill.

People from Indiana are White Ni**ers?

My, my, my.

This may have been in 1992, but the unbelievable arrogance of Team Clinton hasn't changed much, has it?

Never Again

Not Losing Perspective

In the Obama versus Clinton fight, many of us may have forgotten the big picture and the context of these times.

Don't get me wrong; I enjoy debating the merits of my chosen candidate as much as the next person. However, allow me to list a few pressing issues that are still very much dragging the United States down. I know these will come as no shock to anyone.

1. The Iraq War.

We continue to lose troops on a daily basis, but apparently in this day and age, they have to die in great number for us to pay attention to it. What's one or two human lives per day, more or less?

2. High Energy Costs.

Here in Alabama, gas is pushing $3.60 a gallon and will likely be at $4 in the next month. In many other places, gas is far higher than that. This places a burden on our economy and raises the cost of many goods. For example, I've watched the slow steady uptick in prices of groceries. Certain items are a full dollar more than they were a year ago. Every week, items cost five to ten cents higher than they were even seven days before.

3. A Recession with No End in Sight

I feel the results of this directly, as I teach history to community college students. When students have to cut back in their lives, they cut out education to purchase and pay for food, gasoline, rent, mortgage payment and other essentials. College tuition shouldn't be as high as it is anyway, but that's another subject altogether and I digress.

_________________

We can debate the merits of candidates all day long, but if a Democrat is elected to the White House (here's hoping), my biggest concern is whether or not either Senator Clinton or Senator Obama will actually get needed reforms passed and implemented. I am notoriously skeptical of Washington politics and I know full well that whomever is elected will have his or her work cut out for them.

Ladies, You Keep Asking Why He Likes You, How Come?

Lady, you keep asking
why he likes you
how come

Wonder why he wants more
if he just had some

Boys, she's got more to play
with in the way of toys

Ladies eyes go off and on
with a finger full of glue

Lips are drawn upon her face
in come-to-me tattoo

Creamy suntan color that
fades when she bathes

Paper dresses catch on fire &
you lose her in the haze

Don't ever change lady,
he likes you that way because

He just had his hair done and
he wants to use your wig

He's going off the drug thing
cause his veins are getting big

He wants to sell his paintings
but the market is slow

They're only paying him two grams
now for a one-man abstract show

Don't ever change people
even if you can

You are your own best toy to play
with remote control hands

Made for each other
made in Japan

Woman with a greasy heart
automatic man

Don't ever change people
your face will hit the fan

Don't ever change people
even if you can

Don't change before
the empire falls

You'll laugh so hard
you'll crack the walls

The Story of My Life

The Big Strip Tease

Gentlemen, ladies,

These are my hands





my knees



there is a charge
for the eying of my scars

there is a charge
for the hearing of my heart

Do You Live in Toe-Crampity Shoes?

Sparkle Someone Else's Eyes

Happy May Day

Today is the real Labor Day, but our forefathers' fear of godless Communism prevented us from observing the correct date. Instead, we observe Labor Day in September.

Read more about it here.

What so many people fail to understand is that the ideal of communism is beautiful and Utopian. The idea that we would all be equal footing and observe no caste hierarchies gets submerged under the excesses in Russia and other countries who adopted communism. Yet again, our government exploited fear to turn our hearts against the ethos of communism. Mistakes were made in the Soviet Union and I will never agree with the draconian tactics taken by Lenin, Stalin, Tito, or other dictators.