"The Real Christmas Scandal
by Jim Wallis
There is a Christmas scandal this year, but it's not the controversy at shopping malls and retail stores about whether their displays say "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays." The real Christmas scandal is the budget proposed by the House of Representatives that cuts food stamps, health care, child support, and educational assistance to low-income families - while further lowering taxes for the wealthiest Americans and increasing the deficit for all of our grandchildren."
from SojoMail@sojo.net
Enough said.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
4th-graders pass counterfeit bills
From an Associated Press story:
"GARY, Ind. — Police found several discarded counterfeit bills in the home of one of three fourth-graders arrested at school carrying phony bills, officials said.
The Marquette Elementary School students were arrested after lunch Tuesday when the cafeteria cashier realized a boy had paid for his food with a fake $20 bill.
Police arrested two 10-year-old boys and a 12-year-old girl. The students were released to their parents as police continue to investigate.
All three face juvenile charges of forgery and theft, Otano said. No date has been set for the children to appear in juvenile court."
Having a good idea of what life is like for kids in Gary, I suspect these little paperhangers are bound for the criminal justice system for the rest of their lives. I know that it is the criminal in me that perversely wishes for their success instead. I suppose I should be more concerned over crimes of forgery and theft. If everybody could get away with counterfeiting money, of course, it would make "real money" worthless. I just have these Robin Hood sentiments for those who manage to rob the rich. I bet these kids are poor and destined to be forever. It would be nice if they could succeed in doing their little bit to redistribute the wealth. Of course there are better ways than printing bogus money.
Our money is worth so much less than it used to be, though, because of the bogus wealth of CEOs, who are paying themselves obscene bonuses for taking jobs away from honest people. Our money is worth less because of the obscene salaries that go to professional athletes and movie stars, while teachers and non-TV preachers are paid so little (not to mention, of course, janitors and maids and ditch-diggers and garbage collectors).
"GARY, Ind. — Police found several discarded counterfeit bills in the home of one of three fourth-graders arrested at school carrying phony bills, officials said.
The Marquette Elementary School students were arrested after lunch Tuesday when the cafeteria cashier realized a boy had paid for his food with a fake $20 bill.
Police arrested two 10-year-old boys and a 12-year-old girl. The students were released to their parents as police continue to investigate.
All three face juvenile charges of forgery and theft, Otano said. No date has been set for the children to appear in juvenile court."
Having a good idea of what life is like for kids in Gary, I suspect these little paperhangers are bound for the criminal justice system for the rest of their lives. I know that it is the criminal in me that perversely wishes for their success instead. I suppose I should be more concerned over crimes of forgery and theft. If everybody could get away with counterfeiting money, of course, it would make "real money" worthless. I just have these Robin Hood sentiments for those who manage to rob the rich. I bet these kids are poor and destined to be forever. It would be nice if they could succeed in doing their little bit to redistribute the wealth. Of course there are better ways than printing bogus money.
Our money is worth so much less than it used to be, though, because of the bogus wealth of CEOs, who are paying themselves obscene bonuses for taking jobs away from honest people. Our money is worth less because of the obscene salaries that go to professional athletes and movie stars, while teachers and non-TV preachers are paid so little (not to mention, of course, janitors and maids and ditch-diggers and garbage collectors).
Monday, December 12, 2005
Hitler's Niece
A fine read, moral fiction:
Finished Hitler's Niece by Ron Hansen. Geli Raubal (whose mother was Adolf’s half-sister Angela), died in September 1931 at the age of 23 by a bullet from Hitler’s gun, which was found lying beside her. She was also found with a broken nose, and the historical evidence strongly suggests that Hitler viciously struck her and then murdered her. He is portrayed as having done so in the novel.
The Munich cops and other officials called it suicide. There was no autopsy and no police investigation. It is possible, I suppose, that one of Hitler’s thugs could have been the one to murder her, but it is likely that if that were so it was still done at his behest. If she had shot herself did she also break her own nose? His violence to her by those acts were the least of the cruelty, sexual as well as mental, that he heaped upon her in her lifetime, it appears.
I agree with the critics that this novel is brilliant. Although (or perhaps because) it is told from the point of view of Geli, a girl who grows into a young woman and then abruptly dies, it dramatizes the breadth and depth of the evil of the entire Nazi regime, certainly its hideous leaders.
Goering was about as repulsive as a human being could be, wearer of perfume and women’s makeup, appallingly fat, a plundering thief from Jews he disposed of, a sexual pervert, a cold-blooded murderer. Goebbels was an incredibly, disgustingly sycophantic ass-kisser of Hitler and just as incredibly ruthless in grinding subordinates under his heel and plotting the death of an entire people. And most of the Nazis close to him ridiculed Hitler behind his back while kowtowing and genuflecting and saluting and hollering “Heil Hitler!” whenever he was around. He expected it, demanded it, and believed he was entitled to it.
All the time, in his sexual behavior, he was masochistic as well as sadistic, imprisoning and enslaving Geli -- his niece, nineteen years his junior -- while, for example, having her urinate on him while he masturbated. So the little corporal was a golden-shower boy -- among other things. Millions of innocents died because of this man’s sexual psychopathology, I suppose you could say.
Ron Hansen, the author of this powerful novel, wrote about Hitler’s 1945 suicide in the bunker and added: “If only he’d done it fourteen years earlier.” If only. If only.
Eugene McCarthy, who I supported in 1968 in his run against LBJ as a peace candidate, died at age 89. Richard Pryor died at the age of 65. Both were noble men. Richard, through his comedy, depicted the suffering of African Americans and the ridiculous behavior of the white majority and how they were related.
I got a haircut today. It's the best one I've had in a long time. When I get a haircut I like for it to look like I've had a haircut. Done. It's been a good day. Rosie and I put up the Xmas tree and she spent a good part of the evening stringing lights on it while I watched and listened to a Star Wars "Musical Journey," a DVD that was one of two discs, the other being a music CD. Both CD and DVD are da bomb.
Goodnight.
Finished Hitler's Niece by Ron Hansen. Geli Raubal (whose mother was Adolf’s half-sister Angela), died in September 1931 at the age of 23 by a bullet from Hitler’s gun, which was found lying beside her. She was also found with a broken nose, and the historical evidence strongly suggests that Hitler viciously struck her and then murdered her. He is portrayed as having done so in the novel.
The Munich cops and other officials called it suicide. There was no autopsy and no police investigation. It is possible, I suppose, that one of Hitler’s thugs could have been the one to murder her, but it is likely that if that were so it was still done at his behest. If she had shot herself did she also break her own nose? His violence to her by those acts were the least of the cruelty, sexual as well as mental, that he heaped upon her in her lifetime, it appears.
I agree with the critics that this novel is brilliant. Although (or perhaps because) it is told from the point of view of Geli, a girl who grows into a young woman and then abruptly dies, it dramatizes the breadth and depth of the evil of the entire Nazi regime, certainly its hideous leaders.
Goering was about as repulsive as a human being could be, wearer of perfume and women’s makeup, appallingly fat, a plundering thief from Jews he disposed of, a sexual pervert, a cold-blooded murderer. Goebbels was an incredibly, disgustingly sycophantic ass-kisser of Hitler and just as incredibly ruthless in grinding subordinates under his heel and plotting the death of an entire people. And most of the Nazis close to him ridiculed Hitler behind his back while kowtowing and genuflecting and saluting and hollering “Heil Hitler!” whenever he was around. He expected it, demanded it, and believed he was entitled to it.
All the time, in his sexual behavior, he was masochistic as well as sadistic, imprisoning and enslaving Geli -- his niece, nineteen years his junior -- while, for example, having her urinate on him while he masturbated. So the little corporal was a golden-shower boy -- among other things. Millions of innocents died because of this man’s sexual psychopathology, I suppose you could say.
Ron Hansen, the author of this powerful novel, wrote about Hitler’s 1945 suicide in the bunker and added: “If only he’d done it fourteen years earlier.” If only. If only.
Eugene McCarthy, who I supported in 1968 in his run against LBJ as a peace candidate, died at age 89. Richard Pryor died at the age of 65. Both were noble men. Richard, through his comedy, depicted the suffering of African Americans and the ridiculous behavior of the white majority and how they were related.
I got a haircut today. It's the best one I've had in a long time. When I get a haircut I like for it to look like I've had a haircut. Done. It's been a good day. Rosie and I put up the Xmas tree and she spent a good part of the evening stringing lights on it while I watched and listened to a Star Wars "Musical Journey," a DVD that was one of two discs, the other being a music CD. Both CD and DVD are da bomb.
Goodnight.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Mucho Ado About Nada
I just read an article in the Washington Post about a 16-year-old, Zach Rubio, who was suspended from a high school in Kansas City for speaking Spanish. According to Zach: "It was, like, totally not in the classroom. We were in the, like, hall or whatever, on restroom break. This kid I know, he's like, 'Me prestas un dolar?' ['Will you lend me a dollar?'] Well, he asked in Spanish; it just seemed natural to answer that way. So I'm like, 'No problema.' " The principal, Jennifer Watts, defended her suspension of Zach by saying, "This is not the first time we have [asked]Zach and others to not speak Spanish at school."
Well. I'll come back to the language problems of both the young man -- and his principal. But first I hearken back to the summer of 1967 when a cousin and I were on an outing to San Francisco and she heard two adult women speaking Spanish. She said, "What the hell's wrong with them people? Why don't they learn to speak English like the rest of us?"
I thought the same thing then as I do now: Dotty doesn't know Spanish. And neither do I. I feel guilty that I don't know Spanish. If Spanish-speaking immigrants can become bilingual, why can't we Anglos? I don't know what "them people" are saying.
The shortcoming is mine, not theirs. I did well enough in school, especially in English and Latin. Alas -- don't see many people in togas I can strike up a conversation with; and doing well in English has just frustrated me because I listen to somebody in these parts murder the language virtually every day. (In most cases it's not because "he don't know no better." Hillspeak is a badge of honor, an assertion of pride in being plain folk, of not puttin' on the dog, an in-your-face part of the cultural war as fought by the likes of the lady who sings "Redneck Woman." In her case, highly profitably.)
As for German, I did fairly in it in college, and -- this is the truth -- once worked briefly with a Japanese whose English was so poor that I could barely understand him, but when he found out I'd studied German we conversed passably in it. I really struggled with it then because my grammar, vocabulary, and noun and pronoun declensions were abominable, but we talked a little.
Why not learn Spanish? I once heard a blue-collar Chicano with a drinking problem in Utah say to a group, "Why are you people so offended when we speak Spanish to each other? Why is it so much trouble for you to learn Spanish? Hell, I learned English in jail!"
And Zach, like, learned his English from, like, his peers, and although it leaves something to be, like, desired, he is honest-to-God bilingual. And I envy the hell out of him. (The principal, by the way, split an infinitive, but that's pretty small cerveza by today's standards of the standard English of presumably educated people.) (An infinitive? What the hell's that?)
I grew up in southern rural Indiana, and while I was doing so, there wasn't much Spanish spoken here. Now there is quite a lot. I hear it about every time I go to Wal-Mart. I wish I knew what they were saying. I wish I'd taken Spanish in high school instead of Latin and Spanish in college instead of German. I decided after all my Marco Polo wanderings and adventures to settle in little old Forlorn River, Indiana, and I can't understand the speech of the Chicanos who live here. Ai! Chihuahua!
Well. I'll come back to the language problems of both the young man -- and his principal. But first I hearken back to the summer of 1967 when a cousin and I were on an outing to San Francisco and she heard two adult women speaking Spanish. She said, "What the hell's wrong with them people? Why don't they learn to speak English like the rest of us?"
I thought the same thing then as I do now: Dotty doesn't know Spanish. And neither do I. I feel guilty that I don't know Spanish. If Spanish-speaking immigrants can become bilingual, why can't we Anglos? I don't know what "them people" are saying.
The shortcoming is mine, not theirs. I did well enough in school, especially in English and Latin. Alas -- don't see many people in togas I can strike up a conversation with; and doing well in English has just frustrated me because I listen to somebody in these parts murder the language virtually every day. (In most cases it's not because "he don't know no better." Hillspeak is a badge of honor, an assertion of pride in being plain folk, of not puttin' on the dog, an in-your-face part of the cultural war as fought by the likes of the lady who sings "Redneck Woman." In her case, highly profitably.)
As for German, I did fairly in it in college, and -- this is the truth -- once worked briefly with a Japanese whose English was so poor that I could barely understand him, but when he found out I'd studied German we conversed passably in it. I really struggled with it then because my grammar, vocabulary, and noun and pronoun declensions were abominable, but we talked a little.
Why not learn Spanish? I once heard a blue-collar Chicano with a drinking problem in Utah say to a group, "Why are you people so offended when we speak Spanish to each other? Why is it so much trouble for you to learn Spanish? Hell, I learned English in jail!"
And Zach, like, learned his English from, like, his peers, and although it leaves something to be, like, desired, he is honest-to-God bilingual. And I envy the hell out of him. (The principal, by the way, split an infinitive, but that's pretty small cerveza by today's standards of the standard English of presumably educated people.) (An infinitive? What the hell's that?)
I grew up in southern rural Indiana, and while I was doing so, there wasn't much Spanish spoken here. Now there is quite a lot. I hear it about every time I go to Wal-Mart. I wish I knew what they were saying. I wish I'd taken Spanish in high school instead of Latin and Spanish in college instead of German. I decided after all my Marco Polo wanderings and adventures to settle in little old Forlorn River, Indiana, and I can't understand the speech of the Chicanos who live here. Ai! Chihuahua!
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Die Erde ist bedeckt mit Schnee
Vee haf schno, ya? We had some snow this afternoon that (yay!) fortunately covered up the sleet and freezing rain that preceded it but (boo!) is sure to be slickern snot in the morning because the temp will be in the teens. Right now (11:11 p.m.) the wind is fairly roaring out there and it is a sound I love hearing while being grateful I'm inside where it's warm.
Might as well talk about the weather. It's a nice, safe topic. But seriously, I love the wind. And the stars too. How about that Mars and Venus this autumn. (Actually, they're planets but you know. And autumn my ass. This is winter, dude. It might make Chicagoans yawn but it'll do here until the real thing comes. Just hope and pray nobody freezes helplessly because the oil companies and the monopolists decided they weren't making enough profit. As I say, might as well talk about the weather.)
Speaking of Chicago, an airplane ran a stoplight at 55th Street and Cicero (was it Central?) tonight. Seriously, it was gnarly there for a minute, but incredibly no one was killed* and only the poor souls in one or two cars were hurt. The passengers were unharmed. Amazing.
CORRECTION: A 6-year-old boy, a passenger in a car, was killed, and eight people in all were injured. I am truly sorry to hear of the tragedies.
I'm reading Hitler's Niece by Ron Hansen. It is a worthwhile read, bei mir. Und Froehliche Weinachten, Schatze.
Might as well talk about the weather. It's a nice, safe topic. But seriously, I love the wind. And the stars too. How about that Mars and Venus this autumn. (Actually, they're planets but you know. And autumn my ass. This is winter, dude. It might make Chicagoans yawn but it'll do here until the real thing comes. Just hope and pray nobody freezes helplessly because the oil companies and the monopolists decided they weren't making enough profit. As I say, might as well talk about the weather.)
Speaking of Chicago, an airplane ran a stoplight at 55th Street and Cicero (was it Central?) tonight. Seriously, it was gnarly there for a minute, but incredibly no one was killed* and only the poor souls in one or two cars were hurt. The passengers were unharmed. Amazing.
CORRECTION: A 6-year-old boy, a passenger in a car, was killed, and eight people in all were injured. I am truly sorry to hear of the tragedies.
I'm reading Hitler's Niece by Ron Hansen. It is a worthwhile read, bei mir. Und Froehliche Weinachten, Schatze.
O'Reilly: Flavor (yech!) of the Month in Grinches
The First Amendment still reads: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances."
That bete noir of the latest Xmas grinches, namely the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) states on their website, "The right of each and every American to practice his or her own religion, or no religion at all (free exercise), is among the most fundamental of the freedoms guaranteed by the Bill of Rights. The Constitution's framers understood very well that religious liberty can flourish only if the government leaves religion alone."
And does not by law respect the establishment of religion, I might add, which means no state religion, see? This is not a "Christian nation."
I remember a long time back that churches used to say "Put Christ back into Christmas." I also remember reading a long time ago somebody's idea that we keep the celebration of the birth of Christ on December 25 (we have no idea when in the year He actually was born but 12/25 will do quite nicely, thanks) and move this bah-humbug commercial holiday we've had for so long now to February 29, so we would have to endure it only every fourth year instead of every year.
That bete noir of the latest Xmas grinches, namely the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) states on their website, "The right of each and every American to practice his or her own religion, or no religion at all (free exercise), is among the most fundamental of the freedoms guaranteed by the Bill of Rights. The Constitution's framers understood very well that religious liberty can flourish only if the government leaves religion alone."
And does not by law respect the establishment of religion, I might add, which means no state religion, see? This is not a "Christian nation."
I remember a long time back that churches used to say "Put Christ back into Christmas." I also remember reading a long time ago somebody's idea that we keep the celebration of the birth of Christ on December 25 (we have no idea when in the year He actually was born but 12/25 will do quite nicely, thanks) and move this bah-humbug commercial holiday we've had for so long now to February 29, so we would have to endure it only every fourth year instead of every year.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
What's In a Name?
Talk about artificiality: I just changed the name of my blog. A blog by any other name would smell as ...
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Another Artificial Mark on the Wall
It's come and gone now, and the moment will be quickly forgotten by most, but since capital punishment was resumed in the United States, the 1,000th person (Kenneth Boyd, in North Carolina) has been put to death by the people. For the eye-for-an-eye folks, it would be proper if it were possible that Boyd be put to death twice, given that he put two people to death.
The 2,000th American military person to die in Iraq was Staff Sgt. George T. Alexander, Jr., 34, of Killeen, Texas, who died in Samarra, Iraq. (Those geographical names ooze with irony. Killeen, isn't that the town where a nut drove his dualie into a restaurant and massacred a couple of dozen people with his gun? And Samarra is the place where the man in the folk tale had an appointment with death. But I digress.)
"The 2,000 service members killed in Iraq ... is not a milestone. It is an artificial mark on the wall set by individuals or groups with specific agendas and ulterior motives." (That was Lt. Col. Mark Boylan, spokesman for the Iraq military operation about 125 or so deaths ago.)
Well, "ulterior" means undisclosed or beyond what is explicit and I am here and now saying that my motive is to oppose the culture of death (war, guns, capital punishment, and, yes, abortion) and the lust for revenge that seems to reign among the powerful in this nation. Yes, my agenda is specific.
Considering how many of my opponents have spoken out of turn lately with incredibly fatuous utterances (v. Bill Bennett, Pat Robertson, James Dobson, and of course Messrs. Bush and Cheney, our glorious leaders), I was waiting for someone to spew forth the "artificial mark" remark anent the 1,000th execution. I probably missed it.
The 2,000th American military person to die in Iraq was Staff Sgt. George T. Alexander, Jr., 34, of Killeen, Texas, who died in Samarra, Iraq. (Those geographical names ooze with irony. Killeen, isn't that the town where a nut drove his dualie into a restaurant and massacred a couple of dozen people with his gun? And Samarra is the place where the man in the folk tale had an appointment with death. But I digress.)
"The 2,000 service members killed in Iraq ... is not a milestone. It is an artificial mark on the wall set by individuals or groups with specific agendas and ulterior motives." (That was Lt. Col. Mark Boylan, spokesman for the Iraq military operation about 125 or so deaths ago.)
Well, "ulterior" means undisclosed or beyond what is explicit and I am here and now saying that my motive is to oppose the culture of death (war, guns, capital punishment, and, yes, abortion) and the lust for revenge that seems to reign among the powerful in this nation. Yes, my agenda is specific.
Considering how many of my opponents have spoken out of turn lately with incredibly fatuous utterances (v. Bill Bennett, Pat Robertson, James Dobson, and of course Messrs. Bush and Cheney, our glorious leaders), I was waiting for someone to spew forth the "artificial mark" remark anent the 1,000th execution. I probably missed it.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Breaker, breaker, Clark
Making the post just one before this one corrected the problem. As the biker at the subway said, "Who gives ...?"
My blog is screwed up
I've asked for help and I have just started to study a tutorial on HTML. I'm going to get this thing jazzed up. Not screwed up. (An old-time hepcat would be confused by those two terms, which would contradict themselves.)
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