Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Post-surgery thoughts about hospitals
I still don’t have a lot to say about the surgery and its sequelae. I sure do hate modern hospitals, Jewish too in spite of its being one of the best. The care-givers were lovely, almost without exception, and I have no complaint about them and how they did their job. The place is entirely too NOISY—god damn it—and it would be nice if they could do something about that. And they measured your temperature and made you account for your urine in a plastic bottle and every few hours stuck a needle in you and frequently pulled tape off your skin. I had roommates, which made the place too crowded for all. I was glad to get the hell out of there. The anesthesia made me visually hallucinate, especially in a dark room, and cognitively impaired me for a while. And I cannot believe how slowly the hours passed. Especially the hours from darkness to dawn. I refused to watch TV and some of the time felt well enough to work on a crossword, but even with activities the time took forever to pass. But pass it did at last, and we left at 8:30 or quarter to nine Thursday, well after dark, which Rosie didn’t want. Rosie was there every day and how dear her presence was to me. And Amanda will surely earn a high place in heaven for her care of the sick. She walked with me and joked with me and we had a wonderful time. Oh yes, and the food was wretched most of the time, although I think the anesthesia probably had a lot to do with that. One thing about walking was I got to do a lot of farting, which seemed like a good idea at the time. I was very happy also to see Natalie on the weekend—actually, she showed up on Friday and she and Amanda spent a good deal of time with me. Ella, Mary, Randall, and Kelsey popped in for a while on the weekend. I do recall Randy offered “a word of prayer" for me—and I was grateful for that, although I have no idea what he said.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Make it 40 cubits...
Rain, rain, rain. Our backyard is a lake and I think we're going to get a lot of precip this year in the liquid form, because of a phenomenon called "regression to the mean." We had lots of sun last summer and because of all the glorious sunshine I didn't mind that I no longer lived close to the (Great Salt Lake) desert as I walked all those miles . It was in the back of my mind that we'd pay for it later on, but as Joy Lewis says in Shadowlands, "That's the deal." Roy Orbison used to sing, "Baby, the rain must fall..."
Friday, March 10, 2006
Roots
My wife is a genealogy enthusiast and she has been inviting me to join in the fun. I was bitten by the bug recently when I got more evidence that my great-grandfather, James T. Evans, was in the "Orphan Brigade," the only CSA unit from Kentucky in the Civil War. My Uncle Roy told me this before he died and I found an "Evans, J.T." who was a "1st Cpl" in "Co. C, 3rd Kentucky Mounted Infantry Regiment."
I also found James T. Evans in the 1850 through 1900 census records as a farmer in Trimble County, Kentucky. His parents were Charles and Lena Evans, who were both born in Kentucky in 1794. James T. married a woman whose name, I think, deciphering the spelling and penmanship of the people who gave and recorded the information to the best of my ability, was named Jo Agnes. He was a widower by 1900 and lived on the farm with a 29-year-old daughter named Cassandra. (She was the notorious "Aunt Cassie," who my dad made a face over every time he said her name. She later lived in Madison, and once served my dad and mother wine at her house when they were newlyweds.)
I need to find out the surnames of great-grandmother Jo Agnes and great-great grandmother Lena, and I am itching to get at the records. I also found a record of the marriage of "Thomas Evans" to "Annie Dunn" in 1895, in Jefferson County, Indiana. That's "Tom" (John Thomas I, son of James T. and Jo Agnes), and Anna Elizabeth Dunn, (daughter of Albert and Martha), Tom and Annie being my father's parents.
I also found some really neat pictures of my mother and dad, one when I speculate they were dating or possibly newlyweds, and they were a good-looking couple. I also found pictures of my dad and his older brother and sister when they were small kids. Well, I'm rambling. I'm impressed. I have a beautiful family, both ancestors and offspring, and I'm very proud of all.
Another new development in my life: a friend (another unpublished writer) and I are taking a course in writing one's life story at Indiana University Southeast. It's going to be fun.
Love to my loved ones who might read this.
I also found James T. Evans in the 1850 through 1900 census records as a farmer in Trimble County, Kentucky. His parents were Charles and Lena Evans, who were both born in Kentucky in 1794. James T. married a woman whose name, I think, deciphering the spelling and penmanship of the people who gave and recorded the information to the best of my ability, was named Jo Agnes. He was a widower by 1900 and lived on the farm with a 29-year-old daughter named Cassandra. (She was the notorious "Aunt Cassie," who my dad made a face over every time he said her name. She later lived in Madison, and once served my dad and mother wine at her house when they were newlyweds.)
I need to find out the surnames of great-grandmother Jo Agnes and great-great grandmother Lena, and I am itching to get at the records. I also found a record of the marriage of "Thomas Evans" to "Annie Dunn" in 1895, in Jefferson County, Indiana. That's "Tom" (John Thomas I, son of James T. and Jo Agnes), and Anna Elizabeth Dunn, (daughter of Albert and Martha), Tom and Annie being my father's parents.
I also found some really neat pictures of my mother and dad, one when I speculate they were dating or possibly newlyweds, and they were a good-looking couple. I also found pictures of my dad and his older brother and sister when they were small kids. Well, I'm rambling. I'm impressed. I have a beautiful family, both ancestors and offspring, and I'm very proud of all.
Another new development in my life: a friend (another unpublished writer) and I are taking a course in writing one's life story at Indiana University Southeast. It's going to be fun.
Love to my loved ones who might read this.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Must Be My Deodorant -- Or My Rapier Wit and Merciless Logic
I wish people who read my blog -- people tell me they read my blog -- would feel free to COMMENT. "Boring" or "Bullshit" would be just as acceptable as "Agreed" or "Brilliant." Note that all my examples are one word, but feel free to say more as the spirit moves you.
I download and read all the columns of Molly Ivins (Fort Worth Star-Telegram) periodically, and it starts out being fun because she nails the bastards to the wall -- Texas Governor Rick "Goodhair" Perry, Tom DeLay, George W. "Shrub" Bush -- she wants to ask him in an interview, "Are you the worst president since James Buchanan? Or have you never heard of him?" -- John Boehner, the crooked joker who succeeded the crooked DeLay ("he may be succeeded but he'll never be replaced"), Alberto Gonzales the pathetic pipsqueak who of course didn't insist on being sworn into a hearing when Sen. Specter excused him -- but reading a whole bunch of them at a time is like eating a huge steak. It makes you sick. Mind you, in no way am I attacking the messenger for telling the truth. Molly is the one who warned us about Bush, having covered his term as governor of Texas. She told us that history would repeat itself, as it had repeated itself during the governorship. Frat boy uses his connections to get involved in some enterprise or another then has his rich friends bail him out and cover it all up for him. She's the one who introduced us to Karl Rove, the man known affectionately to "Shrub" as "Turd Blossom." (I wonder what Shrub would have nicknamed Hermann Goering? "Cuddles"?)
Molly Ivins. Worth a read:
www.dfw.com/mld/startelegram/news/columnists/molly_ivins/
I download and read all the columns of Molly Ivins (Fort Worth Star-Telegram) periodically, and it starts out being fun because she nails the bastards to the wall -- Texas Governor Rick "Goodhair" Perry, Tom DeLay, George W. "Shrub" Bush -- she wants to ask him in an interview, "Are you the worst president since James Buchanan? Or have you never heard of him?" -- John Boehner, the crooked joker who succeeded the crooked DeLay ("he may be succeeded but he'll never be replaced"), Alberto Gonzales the pathetic pipsqueak who of course didn't insist on being sworn into a hearing when Sen. Specter excused him -- but reading a whole bunch of them at a time is like eating a huge steak. It makes you sick. Mind you, in no way am I attacking the messenger for telling the truth. Molly is the one who warned us about Bush, having covered his term as governor of Texas. She told us that history would repeat itself, as it had repeated itself during the governorship. Frat boy uses his connections to get involved in some enterprise or another then has his rich friends bail him out and cover it all up for him. She's the one who introduced us to Karl Rove, the man known affectionately to "Shrub" as "Turd Blossom." (I wonder what Shrub would have nicknamed Hermann Goering? "Cuddles"?)
Molly Ivins. Worth a read:
www.dfw.com/mld/startelegram/news/columnists/molly_ivins/
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Right You Are
I recently finished reading Our Endangered Values by Jimmy Carter. He states, straightforwardly and incisively, the ills to which this country have fallen since the inception of the current administration. I do not express things with the nobility that he does. Nor do I offer solutions as he does. As I’ve observed, re-grettably, I am much more adroit at afflicting the comfortable than comforting the afflicted.
Bush and his gang have climbed to power with the aid of the fundamentalist religious right wing. This is my reading of how President Carter sums up that faction — “a more intense form of fundamentalism” — in his book, as follows:
(1) Their leaders are dictatorial males who deem themselves superior to others and dominate their sect — especially females.
(2) Although they quote ancient authorities as infallible, requiring unquestioning submission, they exploit modernity when it is expedient for them to do so in order to achieve their ends.
(3) They sharply exclude all who disagree with them, declaring themselves the only true believers and flatly branding their disputants as ignorant and evil.
(4) They militantly fight anything that challenges their beliefs, resorting to verbal and physical abuse of their opponents.
(5) They become ever more narrow in defining and isolating themselves from the “secular” society.
I would add to that last item that, although they exclude and isolate, they have sought ever more boldly to rule all of their perceived enemies through the agency of the Republican party and through seizing as much of the three branches of our constitutional government as they can — moving us ever closer to a church-state. Thus, their goal is becoming less and less a matter of isolating themselves from others and more and more seeking to engulf and devour them.
This is only from the first chapter of the book and I hardly do it justice stopping there. It’s one of those books I’m proud to say I’ve read and I heartily recommend it.
I’m not pious but when I focus on ideals such as justice, meaning, and ultimate purpose, I’ve been motivated by the teachings of Jesus. In such a spirit, I recently sought to volunteer for Prison Fellowship, the ministry founded by Charles Colson. I might be accused of seeking the broad, easy path — the one that leads to destruction, I suppose — by applying to be merely a pen pal rather than visit folks in prisons. Ink is easier to come by than gasoline these days, and I write better than I speak, I reasoned.
Looking through the website, I looked at the picture and bio of Chuck Colson. The picture and text are imposing: captain in the Marines, aide to a US president, … Many years ago I read Born Again, his account of his conversion to Christ while he was in prison. He was there for his part in Watergate, his role having been Nixon’s dirty-tricks man. In the book, written soon after his prison term, he was convincingly contrite about how badly he had behaved.
To his credit, he founded his estimable ministry to prisoners and has headed it for three decades. Chuck earned the respect of Jimmy Carter, among others, because it appeared that he had repented, forsaken politics, and humbly begun to serve God through his prison ministry. When friends lumped him in with those who “took a nose dive with the Hallelujah boys” in order to improve their public images, I defended him as “authentic” and dedicated to the social gospel.
In the past year, I was dismayed when I read an open letter to Chuck from Jim Wallis, Christian evangelical author of God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It and tireless worker for social justice. Wallis took Colson to task for distorting Jim's stance on abortion.
I was further perturbed at the appearance of Chuck on “Justice Sunday” last year at a Louisville megachurch, a televised demonstration for the appointment of conservative federal judges. Colson was there with the likes of Albert Mohler, under whose presidency of Southern Baptist Seminary all women were kicked off the faculty, the men were mandatorily sworn to a fundamentalist creedal state-ment, and the abolishing of a pastoral counseling studies program, for which the seminary had long been praised and revered, and replacement of it by “Biblical” counseling. Also present were James Dobson, head of Focus on the Family, and Bill Frist, Senate Majority (Republican) Leader.
It appears to me that Colson has abandoned his renunciation of politics. The saying about fools and dogs returning to their baser ways seems regrettably apropos (Proverbs 26:11). As a former behind-the-scenes master “ratfucker,” Chuck might be hoped to denounce his vile counterpart of today, Karl Rove. He is instead, either by commission or omission, a supporter in the most corrupt federal administration yet.
But the words of Jesus are there in Matthew 25: “I was in prison and you visited me.” And when was that? “Just as you did it to one of the least of these…, you did it to me.” So with those words in mind, I sought to become a pen pal with somebody by means of Prison Fellowship. I completed the online application, almost. Then the creed came. The one that I had to endorse in its entirety with the click of a mouse. I could not subscribe in particular to these two statements:
(1) We believe that the Bible is God's authoritative and inspired Word. It is without error in all its teachings, including creation, history, its own origins, and salvation. Christians must submit to its divine authority, both individually and corporately, in all matters of belief and conduct, which is demonstrated by true righteous living.
(2) We believe that all people are lost sinners and cannot see the Kingdom of God except through the new birth. Justification is by grace through faith in Christ alone.
When I left the box unclicked, the program kicked me back to it, saying I’d left it blank and it must be completed to be accepted. Not wanting to dissemble, and apparently having the option to write an email, I did so, saying the following:
(1) I'm a recovering alcoholic. (2) I am not a member of the Christian right-wing. Although I admire Chuck Colson for his social gospel ministry, I deplore his association with the ultraconservative Republican party.* (3) I am not a fundamentalist and therefore cannot endorse with a click of the mouse every clause (e.g. 100% Biblical inerrancy) of the "Statement of Faith." Do you have any use for me? If you do not, will you tell me why?
(*I was appalled when Chuck appeared with James Dobson, Bill Frist, and Albert Mohler on the notorious "Justice Sunday" Louisville megachurch broadcast.)
Well, I’m a naïf. I thought I would actually get a reply. Perhaps the email was dumped automatically by an artifice of the computer program and nobody ever saw it. But I tend to think the silence is related to the points of President Carter about the religious right — their debating with me, an out-of-the-closet non-fundamentalist, is not an option. It’s beneath contempt. “God said it, I believe it, and that’s that,” say the fundies. Chuck, the former gyrene officer, says that you salute, holler “SIR! YES SIR!” and move out. You don’t question orders. (Come to think of it, he would have had to feel that way, had he any scruples then, in doing the bidding of Nixon. But I grant he confessed he did not.)
So I think I’ve been cut dead by the Religious Right. (So what is new?) If you dare to question their brand of religion, you just don’t have it. You aren’t “saved” and you are cast into the outer darkness, whereas they are in the light. (Whoops! Tic! That verse from Psalm 139 just occurred to me — I suppose I’m just grasping at straws, of course — “Even if I make my bed in hell, Thou art there.”)
But being rejected is really a dilemma for me, because I really would like to minister to prisoners in the spirit of Matthew 25, flawed as I am, and I can’t get Prison Fellowship to discuss it with me like an adult (Damn it, I hate to keep bringing it up, but I’m 66! And I’ve been a Presbyterian elder). There are other internet agencies for making pen pals, but those are all prisoners looking for chicks (other guys, whatever).
Going on to the matter of being “saved,” we recently looked at the DVD of the movie, Saved! Yep, I’m depraved — I loved every minute of it. I watched it twice, once with the commentary by its two writers, and I believed that it had a “Sweet, Sweet Spirit” (which I put in quotes and upper case because those apt words happen to be a contemporary Christian song title, by the way) that transcended the mordant look at religious hypocrisy.
I wondered what the reviewers at "Christian Spotlight on the Movies" had to say about it and, yep, they declared the movie evil and wrong and included links to debrief all who might see it with the Christian facts (their version of "Christian" and "facts," of course).
I rant about my frustration with these folks. I tried to engage them last year and, with the prospect of one more spring in Indiana, I'll try to dream the impossible dream again and engage them. But I'm not feeling terribly hopeful at the moment.
Bush and his gang have climbed to power with the aid of the fundamentalist religious right wing. This is my reading of how President Carter sums up that faction — “a more intense form of fundamentalism” — in his book, as follows:
(1) Their leaders are dictatorial males who deem themselves superior to others and dominate their sect — especially females.
(2) Although they quote ancient authorities as infallible, requiring unquestioning submission, they exploit modernity when it is expedient for them to do so in order to achieve their ends.
(3) They sharply exclude all who disagree with them, declaring themselves the only true believers and flatly branding their disputants as ignorant and evil.
(4) They militantly fight anything that challenges their beliefs, resorting to verbal and physical abuse of their opponents.
(5) They become ever more narrow in defining and isolating themselves from the “secular” society.
I would add to that last item that, although they exclude and isolate, they have sought ever more boldly to rule all of their perceived enemies through the agency of the Republican party and through seizing as much of the three branches of our constitutional government as they can — moving us ever closer to a church-state. Thus, their goal is becoming less and less a matter of isolating themselves from others and more and more seeking to engulf and devour them.
This is only from the first chapter of the book and I hardly do it justice stopping there. It’s one of those books I’m proud to say I’ve read and I heartily recommend it.
I’m not pious but when I focus on ideals such as justice, meaning, and ultimate purpose, I’ve been motivated by the teachings of Jesus. In such a spirit, I recently sought to volunteer for Prison Fellowship, the ministry founded by Charles Colson. I might be accused of seeking the broad, easy path — the one that leads to destruction, I suppose — by applying to be merely a pen pal rather than visit folks in prisons. Ink is easier to come by than gasoline these days, and I write better than I speak, I reasoned.
Looking through the website, I looked at the picture and bio of Chuck Colson. The picture and text are imposing: captain in the Marines, aide to a US president, … Many years ago I read Born Again, his account of his conversion to Christ while he was in prison. He was there for his part in Watergate, his role having been Nixon’s dirty-tricks man. In the book, written soon after his prison term, he was convincingly contrite about how badly he had behaved.
To his credit, he founded his estimable ministry to prisoners and has headed it for three decades. Chuck earned the respect of Jimmy Carter, among others, because it appeared that he had repented, forsaken politics, and humbly begun to serve God through his prison ministry. When friends lumped him in with those who “took a nose dive with the Hallelujah boys” in order to improve their public images, I defended him as “authentic” and dedicated to the social gospel.
In the past year, I was dismayed when I read an open letter to Chuck from Jim Wallis, Christian evangelical author of God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It and tireless worker for social justice. Wallis took Colson to task for distorting Jim's stance on abortion.
I was further perturbed at the appearance of Chuck on “Justice Sunday” last year at a Louisville megachurch, a televised demonstration for the appointment of conservative federal judges. Colson was there with the likes of Albert Mohler, under whose presidency of Southern Baptist Seminary all women were kicked off the faculty, the men were mandatorily sworn to a fundamentalist creedal state-ment, and the abolishing of a pastoral counseling studies program, for which the seminary had long been praised and revered, and replacement of it by “Biblical” counseling. Also present were James Dobson, head of Focus on the Family, and Bill Frist, Senate Majority (Republican) Leader.
It appears to me that Colson has abandoned his renunciation of politics. The saying about fools and dogs returning to their baser ways seems regrettably apropos (Proverbs 26:11). As a former behind-the-scenes master “ratfucker,” Chuck might be hoped to denounce his vile counterpart of today, Karl Rove. He is instead, either by commission or omission, a supporter in the most corrupt federal administration yet.
But the words of Jesus are there in Matthew 25: “I was in prison and you visited me.” And when was that? “Just as you did it to one of the least of these…, you did it to me.” So with those words in mind, I sought to become a pen pal with somebody by means of Prison Fellowship. I completed the online application, almost. Then the creed came. The one that I had to endorse in its entirety with the click of a mouse. I could not subscribe in particular to these two statements:
(1) We believe that the Bible is God's authoritative and inspired Word. It is without error in all its teachings, including creation, history, its own origins, and salvation. Christians must submit to its divine authority, both individually and corporately, in all matters of belief and conduct, which is demonstrated by true righteous living.
(2) We believe that all people are lost sinners and cannot see the Kingdom of God except through the new birth. Justification is by grace through faith in Christ alone.
When I left the box unclicked, the program kicked me back to it, saying I’d left it blank and it must be completed to be accepted. Not wanting to dissemble, and apparently having the option to write an email, I did so, saying the following:
(1) I'm a recovering alcoholic. (2) I am not a member of the Christian right-wing. Although I admire Chuck Colson for his social gospel ministry, I deplore his association with the ultraconservative Republican party.* (3) I am not a fundamentalist and therefore cannot endorse with a click of the mouse every clause (e.g. 100% Biblical inerrancy) of the "Statement of Faith." Do you have any use for me? If you do not, will you tell me why?
(*I was appalled when Chuck appeared with James Dobson, Bill Frist, and Albert Mohler on the notorious "Justice Sunday" Louisville megachurch broadcast.)
Well, I’m a naïf. I thought I would actually get a reply. Perhaps the email was dumped automatically by an artifice of the computer program and nobody ever saw it. But I tend to think the silence is related to the points of President Carter about the religious right — their debating with me, an out-of-the-closet non-fundamentalist, is not an option. It’s beneath contempt. “God said it, I believe it, and that’s that,” say the fundies. Chuck, the former gyrene officer, says that you salute, holler “SIR! YES SIR!” and move out. You don’t question orders. (Come to think of it, he would have had to feel that way, had he any scruples then, in doing the bidding of Nixon. But I grant he confessed he did not.)
So I think I’ve been cut dead by the Religious Right. (So what is new?) If you dare to question their brand of religion, you just don’t have it. You aren’t “saved” and you are cast into the outer darkness, whereas they are in the light. (Whoops! Tic! That verse from Psalm 139 just occurred to me — I suppose I’m just grasping at straws, of course — “Even if I make my bed in hell, Thou art there.”)
But being rejected is really a dilemma for me, because I really would like to minister to prisoners in the spirit of Matthew 25, flawed as I am, and I can’t get Prison Fellowship to discuss it with me like an adult (Damn it, I hate to keep bringing it up, but I’m 66! And I’ve been a Presbyterian elder). There are other internet agencies for making pen pals, but those are all prisoners looking for chicks (other guys, whatever).
Going on to the matter of being “saved,” we recently looked at the DVD of the movie, Saved! Yep, I’m depraved — I loved every minute of it. I watched it twice, once with the commentary by its two writers, and I believed that it had a “Sweet, Sweet Spirit” (which I put in quotes and upper case because those apt words happen to be a contemporary Christian song title, by the way) that transcended the mordant look at religious hypocrisy.
I wondered what the reviewers at "Christian Spotlight on the Movies" had to say about it and, yep, they declared the movie evil and wrong and included links to debrief all who might see it with the Christian facts (their version of "Christian" and "facts," of course).
I rant about my frustration with these folks. I tried to engage them last year and, with the prospect of one more spring in Indiana, I'll try to dream the impossible dream again and engage them. But I'm not feeling terribly hopeful at the moment.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
The Book of Lamentations
Sure enough. The Christians for Crystal Night, USA version, got The Book of Daniel off the air. I hope you're happy, you sons (and daughters) of sanctimony. You had a chance to bring a portrayal of Jesus to the "secular" part of the community once a week, but you wanted -- demanded -- that Jesus be created in your image.
Your aims are in conflict,do you know that? You claim to be evangelical, which, I would think, would have something to do with evangelism, i.e. the presenting of the gospel, which, last time I heard, was the "good news" of the kingdom of God through Jesus Christ, by which people might be saved. But you don't want people saved, you want them damned, publicly denounced, shamed, punished, sent to hell. You want them to be silenced, excluded from all public discourse.
Jimmy Carter, a publicly proclaimed born-again Christian (whose words may be doubted but whose actions will not) states in Our Endangered Values that you of the extreme wing of Christianity believe you are absolutely right and anyone who disagrees with you absolutely wrong, therefore evil, and therefore subhuman. I think his assessment is quite correct. Such a judgment of your fellow human beings lets you off the hook: if you judge your fellows as enemies and not only evil but subhuman, you are dismissed from the task of saving them.
Your Jesus, were he to be a character in The Book of Daniel, first would berate the wayward souls in a long-winded harangue. Then he would use his supernatural powers to destroy every one of them, especially addicts and the homosexuals; he wouldn't heal them with love and mercy. All the Episcopalian losers then being roasted in hell, he would go to the pulpit of a Southern Baptist megachurch and wear an expensive suit and Rolex watch and have his name emblazoned on a big sign out front, right at the top,* of course Pastor -- Dr. Jesus Christ.
(* You don't really believe that hooey about the last being first and the greatest being servant of all, do you?)
Your aims are in conflict,do you know that? You claim to be evangelical, which, I would think, would have something to do with evangelism, i.e. the presenting of the gospel, which, last time I heard, was the "good news" of the kingdom of God through Jesus Christ, by which people might be saved. But you don't want people saved, you want them damned, publicly denounced, shamed, punished, sent to hell. You want them to be silenced, excluded from all public discourse.
Jimmy Carter, a publicly proclaimed born-again Christian (whose words may be doubted but whose actions will not) states in Our Endangered Values that you of the extreme wing of Christianity believe you are absolutely right and anyone who disagrees with you absolutely wrong, therefore evil, and therefore subhuman. I think his assessment is quite correct. Such a judgment of your fellow human beings lets you off the hook: if you judge your fellows as enemies and not only evil but subhuman, you are dismissed from the task of saving them.
Your Jesus, were he to be a character in The Book of Daniel, first would berate the wayward souls in a long-winded harangue. Then he would use his supernatural powers to destroy every one of them, especially addicts and the homosexuals; he wouldn't heal them with love and mercy. All the Episcopalian losers then being roasted in hell, he would go to the pulpit of a Southern Baptist megachurch and wear an expensive suit and Rolex watch and have his name emblazoned on a big sign out front, right at the top,* of course Pastor -- Dr. Jesus Christ.
(* You don't really believe that hooey about the last being first and the greatest being servant of all, do you?)
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Ignorance Is Bliss
I've been watching Animal House all day. It takes all day with the blessed bonus features. Last night we watched Internal Affairs and after that, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert. I will get the news of the state of the union address by the president (it's all lower case from now on until these creeps depart from government -- if, God help us, that day ever comes again) from Jon and Stephen tonight.
Friday, January 27, 2006
How to Shuck and Jive the Rich and Famous
I've been appalled by the story of one James Frey, who gulled the most rich and powerful woman in Chicago, Oprah Winfrey; and what is much worse, before Oprah, Nan Talese, head of Doubleday Books. Talese is the publisher of Frey's book, A Million Little Pieces. Frey told her that his book was fact and she, dollar signs in her eyes, I guess, believed him. Frey had tried to peddle his fiction, or -- if he were as critical of himself as he is of people he was in treatment with, he would have characterized his drivel as "bullshit fantasies" -- as nonfiction. But he got clean away with it. Of course, we're 22 years past 1984. Lies = truth, truth = lies. Frey is nothing, compared to Herr Karl Rove, Fuhrer Georg Busch, undsoweiter.
P.S. I listened to the first chapter of A Million Little Pieces (of shit) and it was bad, in my opinion, as literature (although I am not an esteemed publisher with the discriminative acumen of Ms Talese) -- and as a self-help work, which millions of suckers think it is.
And you should read Roger Ebert's review of the movie, Kissing a Fool, the script of which Frey co-wrote. (Frey needed help on this. I read once that there were six writers for Mr. Ed.) Bear in mind that Ebert is far and away the most charitable reviewer of movies there is, period.
P.S. I listened to the first chapter of A Million Little Pieces (of shit) and it was bad, in my opinion, as literature (although I am not an esteemed publisher with the discriminative acumen of Ms Talese) -- and as a self-help work, which millions of suckers think it is.
And you should read Roger Ebert's review of the movie, Kissing a Fool, the script of which Frey co-wrote. (Frey needed help on this. I read once that there were six writers for Mr. Ed.) Bear in mind that Ebert is far and away the most charitable reviewer of movies there is, period.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Keep FDA* Off the Farm
(*Freaking Dumb Asses)
Forlorn River (aka Madison, Indiana, USA) had a public hearing the other night on a proposed non-smoking ordinance. I didn't attend because I no longer have a dog in the fight: I quit smoking and drinking almost 25 years ago. I don't frequent bars or locally owned greasy spoons, and there is now a public transport service on which no smoking is allowed.
Well, there is one lunch counter where I occasionally eat, and often some inconsiderate person there lights up, poisoning others' air with second-hand smoke. I hate it but say nothing. No one says anything because we non-smokers don't want to have the effrontery to tell the smoker that his -- or her -- behavior is obnoxious. Our silence gives smokers the notion that we tolerate their smoking.
We put up with it but we don't welcome it. In this town, nobody who has the gall to smoke in an enclosed area such as a restaurant or a retail store or a taxicab says, "Mind if I light up?" But if they did, there'd be few who would say, "Matter of fact, I do." It wouldn't be nice. It would make a scene. It wouldn't be Christian. It wouldn't be patriotic. (The smoker might be a vet. Or a Republican.) So (sigh -- cough! cough!) -- live and let live. It's about "freedom," right?
There were people at this protest who objected to a smoking ban on libertarian grounds, i.e. governmental intervention is generally bad and we should have as little of it as possible. A lawyer said that the proposed ordinance would be "government interference in property rights," and added, "I will decide for myself whether I will ban smoking in my business." (I detected a militant tone there: will we see civil disobedience from the counselor? Perhaps a class action suit? Will she be joined by the owners of bars and pool halls, who appeared to be, along with their patrons, the chief protesters the other night?)
I remember a Madison teacher once saying, "My freedom to swing my fist ends where the other person's nose begins." Fair enough. And my freedom to poison my lungs ends where someone else's lungs begin. The analogy of restricting people's right to eat junk food, from Hinkle's or elsewhere, does not hold -- unless in doing so they throw it up on others.
Tobacco smoke is dangerous: "Public health officials have concluded that secondhand smoke from cigarettes causes disease, including lung cancer and heart disease, in non-smoking adults, as well as causes conditions in children such as asthma, respiratory infections, cough, wheeze, otitis media (middle ear infection) and Sudden Infant Death Syndrome." Source: www.philipmorrisusa.com/en/health_issues
And -- just in case you decide that discretion is the better part of valor and therefore to fight your own tobacco addiction instead of the rights of non-smokers to breathe clean air in public places, I quote from the same source:
"Philip Morris USA agrees with the overwhelming medical and scientific consensus that cigarette smoking causes lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema and other serious diseases in smokers. Smokers are far more likely to develop serious diseases, like lung cancer, than non-smokers."
Since (1) smoking is the leading preventable cause of ill health in the United States, claiming 400,000 premature deaths every year, and (2) ours is the only wealthy country in the world without affordable health care for all, then (3) it would make sense in terms of both health and wealth to quit smoking.
Forlorn River (aka Madison, Indiana, USA) had a public hearing the other night on a proposed non-smoking ordinance. I didn't attend because I no longer have a dog in the fight: I quit smoking and drinking almost 25 years ago. I don't frequent bars or locally owned greasy spoons, and there is now a public transport service on which no smoking is allowed.
Well, there is one lunch counter where I occasionally eat, and often some inconsiderate person there lights up, poisoning others' air with second-hand smoke. I hate it but say nothing. No one says anything because we non-smokers don't want to have the effrontery to tell the smoker that his -- or her -- behavior is obnoxious. Our silence gives smokers the notion that we tolerate their smoking.
We put up with it but we don't welcome it. In this town, nobody who has the gall to smoke in an enclosed area such as a restaurant or a retail store or a taxicab says, "Mind if I light up?" But if they did, there'd be few who would say, "Matter of fact, I do." It wouldn't be nice. It would make a scene. It wouldn't be Christian. It wouldn't be patriotic. (The smoker might be a vet. Or a Republican.) So (sigh -- cough! cough!) -- live and let live. It's about "freedom," right?
There were people at this protest who objected to a smoking ban on libertarian grounds, i.e. governmental intervention is generally bad and we should have as little of it as possible. A lawyer said that the proposed ordinance would be "government interference in property rights," and added, "I will decide for myself whether I will ban smoking in my business." (I detected a militant tone there: will we see civil disobedience from the counselor? Perhaps a class action suit? Will she be joined by the owners of bars and pool halls, who appeared to be, along with their patrons, the chief protesters the other night?)
I remember a Madison teacher once saying, "My freedom to swing my fist ends where the other person's nose begins." Fair enough. And my freedom to poison my lungs ends where someone else's lungs begin. The analogy of restricting people's right to eat junk food, from Hinkle's or elsewhere, does not hold -- unless in doing so they throw it up on others.
Tobacco smoke is dangerous: "Public health officials have concluded that secondhand smoke from cigarettes causes disease, including lung cancer and heart disease, in non-smoking adults, as well as causes conditions in children such as asthma, respiratory infections, cough, wheeze, otitis media (middle ear infection) and Sudden Infant Death Syndrome." Source: www.philipmorrisusa.com/en/health_issues
And -- just in case you decide that discretion is the better part of valor and therefore to fight your own tobacco addiction instead of the rights of non-smokers to breathe clean air in public places, I quote from the same source:
"Philip Morris USA agrees with the overwhelming medical and scientific consensus that cigarette smoking causes lung cancer, heart disease, emphysema and other serious diseases in smokers. Smokers are far more likely to develop serious diseases, like lung cancer, than non-smokers."
Since (1) smoking is the leading preventable cause of ill health in the United States, claiming 400,000 premature deaths every year, and (2) ours is the only wealthy country in the world without affordable health care for all, then (3) it would make sense in terms of both health and wealth to quit smoking.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
Apocalypse Now and Then
Friday morning a week ago, I caught an item on a cable network saying that members of the Christian right are making an outcry against a TV show to air on NBC, The Book of Daniel. I would have ignored it if I hadn't heard about the flap; since then I decided to tape the show to judge for myself if it was an outrage.
From the snippets I had then, it stars Aidan Quinn as a clergyman who has, I think, a gay son, and Jesus appears to the cleric as a more or less comic figure, it looks like from the commercials I’ve glanced at. Then I heard that the Christian rightwing element is protesting the program and trying to stop it from being broadcast altogether because it doesn't conform to their theology. In other words, they are going to pull the same shit they did with God, The Devil, and Bob. That was a cartoon that I really liked and it was shouted down and bullied off the air by them a few years back.
Saturday, a week ago:
Well, I taped Daniel last night, and it was so-so, I guess. It is satire, I'd say, a soap-opera in the fashion of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. It shows up everybody except Jesus as a fool. Which is -- by the way -- pretty much the way I see the human condition and therefore is, in my opinion, an accurate depiction.
And an accurate depiction of humanity is good theology, as far as I’m concerned. If one scriptural quotation comes across loud and clear in this show, it's "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (That's Paul the Apostle writing.)
The reverend is a good, well-meaning man who tries to do the right thing but is overwhelmed by the evil around and within him. His most obvious vice is "Canadian headache pills," which Jesus gently chides him about ("I thought you were cutting back on those"), and perhaps the preacher's worse sin is pride, represented by his ambition to become bishop.
His wife seems to be a pretty good skate, the obvious problem for her being "martinis" -- also when the pressure is on, which is always, as in the case of the rector.
Ellen Burstyn is Daniel's bishop and, besides hitting him up for his Vicodin, it turns out she sleeps with Daniel’s father (James Rebhorn), who is also a bishop, and who is the husband of a woman with Alzheimer’s, whose cerebral lapses tend to bawdy remarks in the company of everyone.
Then there are the children -- a daughter, Grace, who is busted at the outset for selling pot (to buy anime software), a son, Peter, who is openly gay, at least to his decent parents, and Adam, a rather amoral, smug, cruel son, adopted, of Chinese birth. Humor, or a facsimile thereof, takes place around the dinner table with the kids slamming each other as the stoner, the queer, and the -- what? -- asshole?
Speaking of which, Adam is boffing one of the parishioner’s daughters -- in the reverend's garage -- and the main objection the girl’s mother seems to have is that the boy is likely to make “oriental grandchildren running around [her] Christmas tree” -- not that the two children are having sex per se without the spiritual maturity to appreciate its meaning or consequences.
In the extended family, Daniel's brother-in-law absconds with $3.2 million in the church's funds. Daniel goes to a fellow cleric, the Catholic priest, played by Dan Hedaya (Dan played Cher's father in Clueless, in case you were expecting gravitas in a member of the clergy) and asks the priest to employ the parish mafiosos to find the brother-in-law and strong-arm him to get the money back ("It's not like I'm asking you to have him whacked, Frank."). Charlie does die (Frank protests it's strangers who are involved). His widow takes up sexually with the 28-year-old secretary that Charlie ran off with. And so forth.
The show has the potential to be of prophetic value, and it has its truly worthwhile moments, but I'm afraid it's a little too silly overall to be of much value to this lost world. I do hope, however -- and pray -- it will succeed beyond the most fearsome belief of those righteous naysayers of the religious right (wrong) -- the likes of Albert Mohler and James Dobson -- so that they and their Pharasaic clan might be confounded. (Again, Paul says words to the effect, "for God made foolish things to confound the wise..."). Amen.
From the snippets I had then, it stars Aidan Quinn as a clergyman who has, I think, a gay son, and Jesus appears to the cleric as a more or less comic figure, it looks like from the commercials I’ve glanced at. Then I heard that the Christian rightwing element is protesting the program and trying to stop it from being broadcast altogether because it doesn't conform to their theology. In other words, they are going to pull the same shit they did with God, The Devil, and Bob. That was a cartoon that I really liked and it was shouted down and bullied off the air by them a few years back.
Saturday, a week ago:
Well, I taped Daniel last night, and it was so-so, I guess. It is satire, I'd say, a soap-opera in the fashion of Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman. It shows up everybody except Jesus as a fool. Which is -- by the way -- pretty much the way I see the human condition and therefore is, in my opinion, an accurate depiction.
And an accurate depiction of humanity is good theology, as far as I’m concerned. If one scriptural quotation comes across loud and clear in this show, it's "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." (That's Paul the Apostle writing.)
The reverend is a good, well-meaning man who tries to do the right thing but is overwhelmed by the evil around and within him. His most obvious vice is "Canadian headache pills," which Jesus gently chides him about ("I thought you were cutting back on those"), and perhaps the preacher's worse sin is pride, represented by his ambition to become bishop.
His wife seems to be a pretty good skate, the obvious problem for her being "martinis" -- also when the pressure is on, which is always, as in the case of the rector.
Ellen Burstyn is Daniel's bishop and, besides hitting him up for his Vicodin, it turns out she sleeps with Daniel’s father (James Rebhorn), who is also a bishop, and who is the husband of a woman with Alzheimer’s, whose cerebral lapses tend to bawdy remarks in the company of everyone.
Then there are the children -- a daughter, Grace, who is busted at the outset for selling pot (to buy anime software), a son, Peter, who is openly gay, at least to his decent parents, and Adam, a rather amoral, smug, cruel son, adopted, of Chinese birth. Humor, or a facsimile thereof, takes place around the dinner table with the kids slamming each other as the stoner, the queer, and the -- what? -- asshole?
Speaking of which, Adam is boffing one of the parishioner’s daughters -- in the reverend's garage -- and the main objection the girl’s mother seems to have is that the boy is likely to make “oriental grandchildren running around [her] Christmas tree” -- not that the two children are having sex per se without the spiritual maturity to appreciate its meaning or consequences.
In the extended family, Daniel's brother-in-law absconds with $3.2 million in the church's funds. Daniel goes to a fellow cleric, the Catholic priest, played by Dan Hedaya (Dan played Cher's father in Clueless, in case you were expecting gravitas in a member of the clergy) and asks the priest to employ the parish mafiosos to find the brother-in-law and strong-arm him to get the money back ("It's not like I'm asking you to have him whacked, Frank."). Charlie does die (Frank protests it's strangers who are involved). His widow takes up sexually with the 28-year-old secretary that Charlie ran off with. And so forth.
The show has the potential to be of prophetic value, and it has its truly worthwhile moments, but I'm afraid it's a little too silly overall to be of much value to this lost world. I do hope, however -- and pray -- it will succeed beyond the most fearsome belief of those righteous naysayers of the religious right (wrong) -- the likes of Albert Mohler and James Dobson -- so that they and their Pharasaic clan might be confounded. (Again, Paul says words to the effect, "for God made foolish things to confound the wise..."). Amen.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Still Here in Ought-Six
In the first scene of The Milagro Beanfield War, the viejo, Amarante Cordova, rises from bed, dodders to a mirror, looks in it to find himself still here, and says "Thank You, God, for letting me have another day." Ditto.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
The Real Xmas Scandal
"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.
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.
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.
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