Burning Stupidity

So, after a grand jury declined to charge an officer in the shooting death of a Ferguson, MO youth, the mindless hordes did the only thing reasonable to achieve justice: they burned down a dollar store, then went to a neighboring town and burned down a craft store. What idiots. Yes, I understand that there is frustration at long-term problems. Yes, the officer was white and the youth was an unarmed black teen. There are hot-button issues at play here, or are being exaggerated by some for prestige or attention. So what. The mindless thugs claim they want 'justice,' then demand that a pre-determined answer be given. They demand justice, then refuse to let the justice system work. A grand jury is supposed to have more information than is used or presented in a trial. They decided that there wasn't enough firm evidence to justify a trial. By definition, they are better informed than you are. Respect their decision. It isn't simply a matter of white cop/dead black teen. Witnesses gave differing stories as to what they saw. I don't know exactly what happened, and neither to they ones screaming for a specific outcome. Apparently the jury didn't feel they were 'beyond a reasonable doubt.' What I find most baffling and abhorrent is the mob's reaction. Burning cop cars? Not a good idea, but I can understand the connection. Burning down an innocent store? That's just stupid. Another complaint by the mob leaders is that the police treat them like animals. With this mindless violence, is there any question why they might see you that way? There is an irony at play here as well. The mob keeps demanding 'justice,' then circumvent the justice system. They are effective acting like a lynch mob, which should give them pause. Or maybe they are just too stupid.

Resurection

I might be dead. I think I'm not, but with apologies to Rene Descarte, what do I know? I started this blog as an anonymous way to post various ramblings, observations, and rants about life. It worked splendidly. The anonymous part, any way. When life got too busy to regularly post, I was a little concerned about the effect it would have. I was right. The most disturbing thing of all happened... nothing. Nobody called, nobody questioned, nobody worried. For all anybody knew, I was dead. And maybe I am.

Strange Bedfellows

I have been crossing a picket line lately, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. My home state of Rhode Island gave me plenty of examples of bad union behavior: nepotism, corruption, shoddy work. I developed a deep feeling that although they may have been good at one point in history, they had outgrown and outlasted that point. They were a victim of their own success. Now that laws protected workers and wages, there wasn’t much more for them to fight over except ever higher wages and even more benefits. So it wasn’t a big deal to me that when a local company had a lockout, that I worked a position that was available. (The company’s contract offer wasn’t sweet enough for the union. Never mind that most people in the country are getting fired or reduced wages, the union wanted higher wages and better benefits... see the first paragraph). The wages are among the highest I’ve ever had, and the benefits are more generous than anything else I’ve heard of. So it is a good opportunity for me. So what is the problem? Republicans. I’m Independent, but lean Democrat. Mostly Republicans make my skin crawl. But when they announced a war on unions, it wasn’t a big deal to me. Let them, I thought. What inspired them to make teachers, police, and fire fighters their first targets? Those are good, helpful people. That’s who they think are ruining the country? I can’t support that sort of narrow-minded anti-intellectualism. So that's the problem. Do I continue to support busting a union, even though it looks as though I support the Republicans’ broader platform?

Product Love

The first new car I ever bought was a 1999 Subaru. Sturdy, efficient, hardly complaining, it outlasted my marriage, took several cross country trips, and faithfully hauled cargo.

After a decade of use, I drove it across country yet again, and it did just fine.

I recently took it on a modest-length trip, about twelve hours distant. On the way it achieved 238,570 miles- the average distance to the moon. I've driven the equivalent of going to the moon. I don't have a picture of the odometer with those miles on it, though, because I am actually on my second odometer, I wore the first one out at 100,000 miles. That, in itself, is amazing to me. I can remember when cars didn't even have space on the odometer for 100,000 miles- and now my car is wearing them out. The leap ahead in quality is encouraging.

The amazing part about the trip was that I almost didn't make it to the moon. Several hundred miles short of that goal, the engine started bucking, shuddering, and refusing to run above a certain speed. We were in the Dakota hinterlands, and had little choice but to push on as best we could, even if slowly. We puttered along, eventually reaching a small town mechanic that agreed that the engine had a serious problem, and wished us luck in reaching a big city where somebody could fix it.

We limped on dutifully, the top speed the car would tolerate steadily dropping lower. It was a wondrous sight to turn that corner and realize we had made the city. The dealership was very convenient, and we made the mileage goal just before dropping the car off at the mechanic.

We feared driving it like that had caused fatal damage to the engine, and when they diagnosed that we had broken one of the timing chains, we were sure it was time for a new car. A bearing had also collapsed, the ball bearings getting so hot that when they fell onto the belt cover, some melted through it and some welded themselves into it.

But the mechanic put a new chain on it, and fixed the bearing.... and did a compression test that was as good as some new cars...and started it up... and we drove away.

The slogan is 'Love. It's what makes a Subaru a Subaru.' THIS is why I love my Subaru.

The Soul Reason

A friend of mine recently had a miscarriage. She is fine, but it just reinforces how wrongheaded the ultra-right conservatives are who think that life begins at conception.

If that was a separate life, not just a preterm fetus, then my friend's body is responsible for ending its life. That would make her guilty of murder, no? Or at least manslaughter. Yet no reasonable person would charge a woman that miscarries with that.

The argument that life begins at conception because god ensouls the two cells also falls apart with miscarriage. If god is all-knowing, why would he bother if the baby isn't going to be born? Or go the other way: what about when twins happen? Do they each get half a soul? Or did god play it safe and pack extras? What if god puts two souls in for twins, then it aborts? My friend could be charged with mass murder.

Wanted and Unwanted Sympathy

An acquaintance of mine recently had a miscarriage. It was expected; there was pain, and the doctor confirmed that there was no heartbeat. So when she passed the grape-sized blob and attached thread, there was mostly relief that the pain would stop. A quick flush, some rest, and she was ready to continue on with her life.

Her mistake was in telling people that she was pregnant so early. When people find out that she is no longer pregnant, they always seem to want to offer sympathy. The natural response presupposes that women want and need to have children: they offer sympathy that her pregnancy failed. (Not spoken, but suggested, is that SHE failed as a woman).

The problem is that she was lukewarm about the pregnancy all along. In some respects she is a little relieved that she doesn't have to go along with it. She knows that the timing was bad for her and her partner; she has even expressed doubts about her partner's long-term viability. So she is fine with the miscarriage.

She just doesn't know what to say to people when they they say how sorry they are that she isn't pregnant any more. "Thanks; now can we talk about YOUR cervix"? "Okay. I'm accepting cash and chocolate"? "That's okay; it was delicious"?

Another friend of mine got some remembrances of her deceased husband recently, and it quickly brought tears to her eyes. She said it was good to remember him, that it helped keep the memories fresh and vivid, but that most people were hesitant about bringing him up out of fear that it would bring that sadness. What they were missing was that the sadness is just an indication of how much she loved him, and it was good to know that others missed him as well.

Mensans tend to be an affectionate, hands-on crowd. Most, but not all, are enthusiastic huggers. When there is a weekend gathering, a simple color code is employed. Attendees put red, yellow, or green stickers on their badges to indicate that it is okay to hug, not okay, or that you need to get permission first.

It might be good if we could employ that system for our everyday interactions. "Yes, please talk to me about my dead husband; the tears are natural and not unwanted" or "Give me sympathy for my dead fetus if you like, but I don't really need it." It would make navigating every day interactions more rewarding for both parties.

The Experience Whore

The East Coast had a rare earthquake recently, and although it was mild (about 5.9), my first thought wasn't for the damage or for people's safety. It was: why wasn't I there? I desperately wanted to experience an earthquake.

It isn't just earthquakes. I have a yearning for all sorts of experiences, both natural and social. I've briefly been in California and Seattle, both quake-prone locations, but nothing happened. The one hurricane I have direct experience with was so mild we went out and walked around in it, wondering if we should try flying kites.

I wouldn't be so jealous if the women I know didn't have a long list of experiences behind them. As a group, them seem to blithely have taken hash, acid, mushrooms, heroin, and coke. They've had one-night stands and threesomes and rape. There has been skipping school, blowing off work, drunken partying, and thievery.

And the consequences? None. They are happy, intelligent, and well adjusted. If they wanted to write a story about tripping at a party and waking up in a strange hotel room, they have the authenticity to make it feel real.

I don't. Yet I'm the one that fancies himself a writer.

So when my hometown experiences a disaster, my first emotion isn't empathy.

It's jealousy.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Conservative Christian/ Republican politicians often beseech god to lead their way, to show them a sign that they are doing the right thing and guiding events. It stands that god would also warn that you are being a douche.

Eric Cantor recently played a role in the federal debt ceiling negotiations, insisting that millionaires and billionaires shouldn't be taxed, and that only spending cuts were acceptable to him, and was willing to shut down the government to get his way. He advocated cutting things like NPR, Planned Parenthood, the US Geological Survey, the National Weather Service, NASA, and NOAA.

This week a large earthquake hit the east coast. It was a 5.8, and was felt from Georgia, to Illinois, to Rhode Island. The epicenter was in Eric Cantor's congressional district. Do you think he took it as a warning? Keep in mind that the USGS tracks earthquakes and is learning to predict them, potentially saving lives and rebuilding costs.

Within days of the earthquake, Irene, a Category 3 hurricane, will make landfall near his house. The National Weather Service, NOAA, and NASA are all instrumental in predicting the strength and track of these storms, again potentially saving lives and protecting the country.

Has Mr Cantor been reading the signs?

Apparently not. He is now claiming that any money spent on repairs from the hurricane should be accounted for by spending cuts.

I wouldn't stand close to him. At this rate, a bolt of lightning is next. With his spending cuts in place, he'll never see it coming.

Jesus Told Me To

Today Congressman King announced that he is going forward with his hearings about radicalized Muslims in America. It is wrong, short-sighted, stupid, and racist. He seems to think that only Muslims can engage in terrorism, when in fact a belief in ANY mythical being can produce such extreme violence. Anything is permissible if god tells you to do it, right?

Muslims certainly get plenty of attention when something happens, but they are far from the only players in this game. Christians, boasting that 'God is love,' are all too willing to fall into the trap of destroying anyone that doesn't conform to the saved ones game plan.

The blind irony is that the hearings are on the heels of the bombing and shootings in Norway, long presumed a safe country. Yet it wasn't a Muslim that killed scores of people, including children at camp , it was a righteous christian. If that information was too timely to get to Mr King, there are plenty of other examples. It wasn't Muslims that blew up Oklahoma City's Murrah Center, burned down the Branch Davidian complex with children inside, or shot Dr Tiller (in church, no less!).

Welcome to the world of equal opportunity hate. It isn't Islam, or even Christianity, that is to blame. When you believe that your actions will be judged by their righteousness in an afterlife, and that anybody that doesn't believe as you do won't be there, then you have no reason to NOT kill infidels. Blind religious faith, of any stripe, is dangerous.

When was the last time you heard of somebody that tried to start a war in the name of atheism?

The people that attempt to start race wars, or religious wars, always assume that god is on their side, and forget that the other side believes the same thing. The battle isn't between Christians and Muslims; it is between humanity and inhumanity.

Those Lovely Gray Wrinkles

I have been involved with redheads, blondes, auburns, and the gray-haired, but never for those reasons. I gathered my companions based on the content of their cranium, not the color of their hair.

They included a three-term president of Mensa, a National Honor Society scholar, a schoolteacher, someone that leapfrogged high school graduation and was accepted directly to college, and someone that has gone back to school in middle age to become a lawyer, and so far is getting straight As.

No doubt about it, I think smart is sexy.

Petulant Peacocks

I’ve noticed that I get the same feeling watching Kitchen Nightmares as I do watching House. As I watch these two pissants strutting about, I don’t think ‘what high standards!’ I think ‘what jerks!’

Both people (even though one is fictional) yell, threaten, bully, insult, and act as though they are the chosen one. Both have loyal, rabid fans.

Those fans are mostly female for both shows. I keep trying to make something of that statistic, but I can’t decide what it means. Do men have such strong egos that they are resistant to watching someone else’s? Are women so programmed to desire authority that they think think this is just robust alpha-male behavior? Is watching these programs equivalent to staying in an abusive relationship?

I read a study that examined why women stay with violent, dangerous, motorcycle gang types. The women reported that they felt that they would be protected there. Is this just a sanitized version of that?

I also wonder if part of my distaste is simple jealousy. Who wouldn’t want want to act like a spoiled child, not be concerned with other people, not be careful about phrasing things well or pissing off somebody in authority, and still be hailed as a saviour? That part is just as galling to me: that the people are so thankful that they were treated so poorly. It isn’t tough love; there is no love involved. Merely a small ego that wishes it were big.

That’s what Dr Phil (another obnoxious blowhard) would say. People that yell at the slightest provocation, feel the need to belittle others, don’t allow others to have dissenting opinions, instantly insult, and sulk when they don’t get their way know that they are unimportant and are trying to make themselves look important.

I think they just look sad.

Fire Across the Middle East

There have been public uprisings across the Middle East lately, as crowds gather to protest their living conditions, political process, and call for their long-time leaders to step down.

It started in Egypt, then moved to Bahrain and Libya, with pundits and analysts extolling that just about any country over there was vulnerable.

I've heard some people claim that this spontaneous call for democracy is a justification for Bush jr's invasion of Iraq, since this is what his (eventual) stated goal was, and they were inspired by him.

This argument seems to have two main problems with it. The first country to feel the fire was Egypt. When the president offered partial concessions, the crowds insisted that it wasn't enough and they wanted the military to assume power.

When the protests started, the newscasters made the point that Egypt was our closest ally in the Middle East. Is this what we wanted for our friend? To kick him out of office with a military coup?

The second issue with attributing these protests to Bush is one of timing. If these are motivated by the American military might, why didn't they happen in 2003 when we ran the invasion? Why didn't they happen in 2004 when we enforced law by giving Saddam Hussein a trial rather than summarily executing him? Why didn't they happen in 2006 when he was finally executed? Why not when elections were held in Iraq, or when we withdrew troops, thinking that they would be available to support protestors in other countries?

Why now, two years after Bush has left office?

If anything, I think this proves just how misbegotten, wrong-headed and wasteful the invasion was. These protests are getting results, even to the point of removing leaders that had been in power for decades, and they have been largely peaceful. No invasion, outside-enacted regime change, or specious rationales required.

Left Right out

A new slate of congresspeople has just been sworn in. They campaigned on the idea that the government is too big, and has overreached, doing things that it doesn't have the legal authority to do. they claim to be firm followers of the Constitution, view it as sacrosanct, and read it out loud on the floor of Congress to remind everyone how sincere they are about this.

But they didn't.

It is curious that people who claim to want to follow the Original Intent of the drafters of the Constitution didn't actually read the original draft. They read the current version, amendments and repeals included. Even they realized that talk about how blacks only couldn't as 3/5ths of a person, that slavery was legal, and only white males were citizens might cost them votes.

Fair enough. And intelligent enough.

But doesn't that leave them in a fairly hypocritical position? How can they claim to want to follow the original meaning of the Constitution while admitting that it has been shaped and improved over time?

The flash point for this Originalism is the health care laws that got passed. Some claim that there is nothing that allows the government to do such a thing. Yet I think the phrases "provide for the common defense" and "promote the general welfare" are intentionally vague, and cover a lot of ground.

The Natural Drug

I've recently moved someplace renowned for its bad weather. Or rather, for its lack of boring, pleasantly mild, nondescript indistinguishable weather.

During the summer it got hot enough to make you avoid the outdoors. Not unusual.

But the winter...

The winter weather is boisterous, playful, changing, vivid, and challenging. It gets cold enough for your fingers to hurt simply walking from the car to the apartment; winds howl down the plains, sliding along the ice; the snow piles up so rapidly that they don't even try to clear the roads down to pavement, and you have to learn to include sliding as part of turning corners; any ventilation crack is enough to make ice build up inside your window where the temperatures meet.

It isn't easy.

It's challenging.

It's invigorating.

I love being outside in weather like this. It gets my heart beating to be buffeted by winds, where I have to turn my back to the wind to catch my breath. It lifts my spirits to see the sky clogged with fat, fluffy flakes that keep coming, hour after hour, and the wind curls them into graceful drifts. I like seeing the dark, crystalline sky full of sparkling stars. I welcome the prickling in my nose as the hairs freeze, and my cheeks getting stiff and hard to move.

I enjoy nature. Give me a good hike in the woods, an outcropping over a lake to look from, the view from a mountain, a meandering day in a National Park. Now add in the danger that if you lay down, you could die. I've been on ski mountains, cold wind pulling at my clothes. But this is even better; despite being within walking distance of houses and civilization, there is a closer connection to nature. You are more directly involved than a minute or two sliding down the ski run.

With all the ways humans have tried to tame, eliminate, curb, and derail weather, it is refreshing to be in a place where they build tunnels between buildings, and raises bridges to allow ice floes to pass underneath. It makes you feel more alive than an illicit drug.

Cuckoo

I recently upended my life, and made a big move across country, finding much satisfaction and contentment in my new home.

I didn't go alone. I went with a friend, and at first it was just the two of us, and we were well matched and balanced. Then came the straggler.

She moved her son in with us, a thirteen year old boy. I had an instant family that I hadn't been counting on. It is a surreal way to get a family; no nine-month pregnancy, no lengthy adoption process, no prolonged court case. He wasn't here; and then he was.

And not happy about it.

I wish he would understand that there is an adjustment for both of us. No matter how much he curses, insults, and disobeys, it is still my job to get him to school healthy, clean, and prepared.

Why should I? Why should I care enough to bother? It wasn't what I signed up for. i could just as easily sit back and let the mother be the involved one, do the hard work and be the enforcer. Why am I even involved?

The irony comes from the fact that I wasn't allowed to do this for my own kid, wasn't allowed to be a daily parent, explore the joys and pitfalls of childhood, and watch him grow. I had a few hours on weekends. Now I'm helping keep another father away from his kid.

And it isn't even for someone grateful. It would be different if the child were happy to be here, but those insults...

I wonder what he will leave behind when he finally leaves the nest. Beautiful, lustrous feathers to keep us warm? Or a hard white mound of bird crap?

Autumn

Another autumn, and I can feel the tug on my soul. Much is made of spring, with its affirmation of life, but I find the closing down of summer to be more poignant.

It is a season with rich, vibrant hallmarks. A delicate lilac scent may call spring to your mind- but how does that compare to that sharp breath of cold air when you step out of the house on that first morning with frost? Or how well that blends with the smoke from someone's fireplace, knowing that they are warm and comfortable, snug in their house? The cracking, crackling, snapping leaves at your feet make every step a song, if you can catch them in between their game of tag on the swirling wind. An unexpected, gossamer layer of snow nuzzling bushes and yards, or the delicate, condensed spiderwebs of frozen fog between blades of grass. Or that warm rush to your skin when you step back inside a warm house after a brisk, invigorating walk, only turning back when the cold starts to seep into your clothes.

Fall foods are hearty: deep orange squashes, thick hot chocolate, roasts, warm apple pies, chili that has been simmering in the crockpot all day, filling the house with delicious memories.

Spring pulls you to wander away from home. Autumn encourages you to snuggle beneath the blankets with someone. Is it any surprise that the holiday that celebrates family and food is now?

Compare the excitement of seeing the first shoot of green in your yard, knowing that soon you'll be weeding and mowing, with the wondrous joy of those first flakes of snow, knowing that it is too early to last, and this first taste will soon melt away.

If Spring is about Hope, or Life, then Autumn is about Time. The warm weather arrives slowly, in fits and starts. The cold arrives suddenly, often before you are ready. It is a reminder that the universe is moving, always moving. Soon it will be winter, and metaphorical death. In Spring you can live in the moment; in Autumn you must plan how you will survive. It warns of the culling of the herd.

If Spring encourages you to start over, then Autumn warns that your time is short. Do not wait for the Spring; now is the time to get moving. Because if you don’t, the universe will move on without you.

The Weather Ghost

I recently got out of a troubled relationship. I moved far away, half way across the country, to regroup, reset, and reboot. The large distance, I figured, would be a good way to make a new start.

There is only one small problem. We had a pet name for this other person. It was a nick-name, a lightly-teasing comment that was an in-joke to us. Unusual, but not unique. Nothing odd about that; plenty of long-term relationships have these touchstones that are only significant to the people themselves.

I didn't realize until I got here that a town has that same name that I used for this person. I've had minimal contact with them since I moved, and that's good. But every time I watch the weather report on the news, there is that town, reminding me.

The town apparently doesn't have anything else going on in it; it isn't in the news for any reason, nothing transpires there. It just happens to be in the middle of a blank spot on the map, so they fill it in with this town. Its entire purpose seems to be to prevent me from simply watching the weather.

For the most part I've managed to move on, start over. Unless I watch the weather. Then the ghosts of the past come howling down from the arctic, and the day feels a little colder and darker.

The Price of Altruism

I'm selling my body.

Well, not really.

Just part of it.

I've recently moved, and until I get my finances solid, I've been selling my plasma to a pharmaceutical company. I didn't even know you could still do that; it seems the only time it comes up is when somebody is telling an inspirational story, and they tell about when they were so down they had to sell their blood. But those were in the past; surely in the time of bar codes, AIDS, and genetic engineering that wasn't necessary any more!

Apparently it is still necessary and popular. The money is decent enough, considering that all you really have to do is sit there.

But still, I feel a little creepy. Money isn't why I want to do it. I came from a place where it was strictly voluntary; the female phlebotomists were uniformly nice, since they knew you didn't have to be there. I got to feel good about helping strangers. When people questioned why I went so often (I gave 30 gallons before moving out of the area) I would say that I gave when I could so that when I needed it somebody else would give.

There is a difference; I donated platelets, and I'm selling plasma.

But still.

I lived across from an elder gentleman and when it snowed I would make sure to get out there early and shovel his driveway for him. I didn't want him getting hurt doing it, and I appreciated the exercise. It seemed like a great combination.

Until he started feeling guilty, and started running out to shove money in my hand. I tried to dissuade him, and suggested that a bottle of wine at the solstice was enough payment for the season. It didn't take; he continued with the money.

And as he did, I enjoyed the snow shoveling less and less.

When it was free, it was a good deed; when I got paid, it was a chore.

I hope that I can my finances strong enough that I can stop selling my blood, and find a place where I can give it away. Because as the slogan says, giving the gift of life is unbeatable.

Too Much or Too Little?

I recently told a close friend that I had been harboring romantic feelings for her, and wished that we had gotten closer. We had known each other for years, although we had never done anything social with just the two of us. For a while we were each in relationships with other people, and occasionally the four of us would do stuff. After that, I put out feelers, but they were never enacted on. This went on for years, warm and friendly but no closer than before.

I recently moved, and took the opportunity to let her know what had been going through my head: regret that we hadn't been closer.

I never heard back from her.

Admittedly, email probably wasn't the best medium for such a confession. Unfortunately, that was how we were communicating, and it naturally flowed in the conversation. I know, I know: I should have called her. Next time.

Without a response, I'm left wondering at how it was taken. Was she offended? Disgusted? Amused that I thought I might have had a chance? Angry that I hadn't said anything years ago?

Maybe she didn't even get the email. Or maybe she is having a medical emergency. Heck, she might even be dead.

Maybe she is just busy.

Either way, I'd like to know if it was too much, too late, or merely too optimistic. Even if it's painful, I'd like to know the truth.

False Path to Peace and Prosperity

I didn't get the job.

That isn't unusual in this economy; most people aren't getting the job. Why am I complaining?

Because I was an excellent candidate. My skills matched exactly what they were looking for, my aptitude was appropriate, and the interview went well, lasting half an hour. The only boggle was that I wasn't super-experienced with a particular software program that was marginally related to the job. I was honest and told them that I wasn't as slick as I could be, but eager to learn.

Afterwards I even sent the recommended thank-you note. I didn't get the job.

I can't help but think that this desperately-needed job would have been mine if only I had lied a little, but I thought it was better to be honest. Was I foolish? Is that what it takes nowadays to get ahead? Heck, forget that- I was merely trying to not go under.

I recently broke up with a girl after eight years; one of the reasons was that I won't say that I loved her, because I didn't think I did, although it would have made her much happier if I had fibbed and fudged a bit.

I understand the little white lie (what a beautiful baby!) that doesn't do any harm. But more and more it seems that it is necessary to lie to just to keep even.

And that isn't the kind of society I want to live in.