Red States, Blue States, and Purple Mountain Majesty

Forces of Composition, Decomposition, and the Space Between

2006-06-22T23:29:00.000-05:00

As the old joke goes: How can Elvis be decomposing when he never composed anything in the first place. Well, despite another three month absence, I am not decomposing either. In fact, I have been composing; I just haven’t posted (or finished) anything in quite a while.

Here are some the ideas that almost fell by the wayside.

Why the re-election of Mayor Nagin in New Orleans may cause us to question a people’s capacity for self-government.

Why income taxes ought to be due on Election Day.

How the number 666 (as in 06/06/06) symbolizes evil in the folly of man’s thinking.

To make up for lost time, I shall try to link these three concepts together, centering around the ongoing thesis (with the usual only-mild hyperbole) that the Democratic Party is the epitome of evil in the modern world.

To begin, maybe we can agree on a definition of evil. But first, maybe we can agree on what a definition of evil is not. Evil is not that which we don’t like. If one does not like, say, eggplant or George W. Bush, that does not give that person to right to logically conclude that eggplant or George W. Bush is evil. The same could be said of Bill Clinton or tofu. It just won’t be said here.

Arab and quasi-Christian, poet and pseudo-philosopher, Kahlil Gibran defined evil as “good tortured by its own hunger and thirst.” I especially like this definition as it allows for evil to exist, even though the “evil doer” might not see it as such.

If we can agree that killing 6 million Jews, flying airplanes into skyscrapers, and beheading innocent civilians are all evil acts, perhaps we could also agree that the perpetrators of each of these acts did not consider themselves evil. No, they considered their acts good, though they could not see how hunger and thirst had perverted their notions of good and evil.

In the Book of Revelation, the “evil” beast was marked with the number 666. Exegetically speaking, the number 6 represents man, who was created on the 6th day. The repetition of something three times was symbolic for perpetuity, or an infinite sort of finality. Therefore, 666 represents man obsession with himself, never finding salvation or the rest that comes on the 7th, or Lord’s Day.

Some may call Him God, Yahweh, the Light, the Force, or heck, some might even call Him Her. But it imperative that we acknowledge that which is beyond us. Otherwise, we set ourselves up as the very God we have tried to eradicate from public discourse or rationalize out of existence.

Which brings me nicely to global warming and the fact that it is not an “environmental movement,” but rather an atheistic one. Before the polar ice caps were feared to melt and drown our cities, the ozone layer was going to evaporate and allow mankind to be singed out of existence. The rainforest were going to be clear cut and we were all going to suffocate. Or without abortion and birth control, we would overpopulate the planet, and people would fall off it because they had nowhere left to stand. And those are just some of the hoaxes that have been perpetrated in my lifetime!

What each of these crises represent is an assertion that God is not in control. Anyone who suggested contrary and did not buy into said hoaxes, was branded as evil. Meanwhile, the Chicken Little class asserts man as the ultimate arbiter or his own fate. This is as wacky as the Jesus freaks who were trying to blow up the Alaskan pipeline at the turn of the century, believing if they pissed Jesus off bad enough, He might actually bump up the time of Armageddon and their own personal rapture.

If man is the ultimate arbiter, than the collective energies of man, combined into a democratic form of government, would represent a force greater than God. This kind of arrogance is not only dangerous, it is, as I believe I have demonstrated, evil.

Clearly, there must be some form of government, and I would argue that democracy is the only form, short of the benevolent dictatorship, that can ensure freedom of the people. History has shown us that dictators are usually only benevolent toward some of the people. The rest get slaughtered. So democracy is really our only choice.

While things are far from ideal in Iraq, it would be stubbornly dishonest to say they are not better and headed in the right direction. Yet, someone whom I respect and admire asserted the mission was impossible because, at the end of the day, some people, particularly Muslims, might not be capable of self-government. The word “Muslim” after all literally means “one who submits [presumably to the will of God],” he argued.

I was aghast. I reminded my friend, a student and teacher of history, philosophy, and the Catholic faith, that Pope John Paul II had said that freedom was a natural yearning of the human soul. But he could not be persuaded.

I then went to a friend who recently immigrated from South America and asked him if he thought some people were not fit for self-government. He laughed. His country’s experiment in democracy only empowered corrupt and despotic rulers. Strike two.

Then I saw that the people of New Orleans re-elected Ray Nagin, and I wanted to cry. It does seem that some people are not capable of self-government. Nagin is obviously incapable, and his effort to sidle up to George “Checkbook” Bush sickens and scares me to death.

And on that happy note, I shall conclude. There is much more I could say, and soon, I will. But for now, take heart that Elvis is back in the building.

Bob Dylan, an “Enlightened” Liberal, and the Return of the Mule

2006-03-13T11:27:00.000-05:00

The Great Carnac opens another envelop and says, “Name three circles God never expected to collide.”

Some of you may remember my recently writing about someone who described herself as “very moderate.” Some of you may have even picked up on the budding affection I had for this “walking contradiction.” A few asked if I had asked her out. I had, but met with the following response.

“I am very flattered at the invite to coffee, but I am happily in a committed relationship.”

So I wished her well, saying that I expected her beau was a fine man, and that she didn’t strike me as the kind that would accept any less. Our email conversation continued, still curious to see how many of our initial instincts and impressions were on target.

She assumed I was a Nixon lover because I reminded her of an old boyfriend who loved Richard Nixon. Her conclusion was correct, but her methodology was curious. Clearly, she valued intelligent men, though.

I assumed the vagueness of her “committed relationship” meant that she was living with someone. Husband or fiancé would have implied marriage, or at least one on the way. But she would have said that. Nor did she say boyfriend, which, I assumed, seemed too trite of a reference for someone with whom she was living.

She assumed I was not part of the “Religious Right,” which she so ably disparaged, because I was not a Fundamentalist. But would not being a conservative who goes to mass weekly (okay, daily) make me religious right? She gave me a pass.

As perceptive as my friend was, she had to know I was too traditional to condone cohabitation. Thus her vague description of her “committed relationship.” I said nothing more about it.

Instead we wound our way around other topics: euthanasia, stem cell research, civil liberties and the necessary curtailments during a time of war. It is probably accurate to say that we found some common ground, but for the most part, we disagreed. Then the conversation trailed off.

In early January, on my way to JCPenney to return the jacket my father had sent me for Christmas, I ran into my very moderate friend. Surprised to see her, I stammered to say hello, reminded her where we had met, and embarrassingly blanked on her name. She politely reminded me, though not entirely relieving me of the embarrassment. She then gestured to the person beside her, saying, “This is my partner, [Kerri].”

I am told that I did not bat an eye nor raise an eye brow. (She obviously was not looking at my throat as I tried to gulp down my Adam’s apple.) Small talk was suddenly awkward. She asked if I posted any blogs recently, and I told her I was working on one about King Kong. I then excused myself and let her return the pajamas her grandmother had given her for Christmas.

As I drove home, I did not know what to make of my emotional response. I’d never been shot down by a lesbian before. It’s sort of emasculating. How could I have not picked up on it? I said to myself. I recalled that when we met, she was dressed in business attire. She was friendly, maybe even flirtatious, and yes, I still did not regret thinking, attractive.

Though still a little shaken, I was able to recognize the humor in the situation. Like all great moments of embarrassment, they deserve to be shared. I thought about calling one of my brothers, but they would have enjoyed it far too much. Besides, I needed to laugh and be reassured. Did asking out a lesbian reflect poorly on my manhood? Resolving this would require wisdom. But who? Then it hit me.

David! David was the perfect choice. He had a good sense of humor, would not razz me too much, and (being from Decatur) fancied himself as something of an expert on lesbians. Perfect. Well, David did not think the experience should have been traumatizing, though he clearly reveled in the fact that, for me, it had been. I was not going to give my “very moderate” friend the same pleasure.

Surely, she had to be loving the fact that she had rocked some close-minded Catholic, mean-spirited archconservative’s world. Obviously, she did not expect to hear from me again. So a few days later, I dropped her an email.

We laughed at the irony of running into one another and mused about who actually shopped at JCPenney, while considering her grandmother’s taste in pj’s, and why someone in Atlanta would need a sub-zero degree jacket. Then she told me that she had just read Chronicles, Bob Dylan’s memoir, and she was “obsessed” with his music. (Finally, I find a woman who appreciates Dylan, and she’s . . . you know.)

After watching a younger Dylan in No Direction Home, she goes on to describe him as “a beautiful man.” She fawned over his brain, how he excelled at his art, his creative passion, and how those things “automatically [put] him in the sexy category.” She confessed to having “a thing for strong features.” “Add a Jew-fro and a beautifully prominent nose and eyes, well he’s something like an Adonis.”

If I was stunned before, she could now add confounded to the list of emotional injuries she had inflicted on me. Was she toying with me? Trying to make me jealous? To what end? I didn’t care. Passions had arisen and I threw caution to the wind. I offered to take her under my wing, to tutor her, to expose her with all the Dylan she was destined to discover.

But Dylan is like the finest wine. No matter the enthusiasm, it can never be gulped. She assured me that she was in good hands, already having a tutor, someone who had given her a copy of Highway 61 Revisited, Blonde on Blonde, and (my favorite) Blood on the Tracks.

“Actually, you remind me of him,” she said of her Dylan tutor, describing him as “one of [her] favorite people.” She added, “He’s a bit more enlightened than you, politically speaking. :)”

To which I responded, “He must be a moderate. ;-)”

Imagine my surprise when my friend David called me last week, saying, “You know the lesbian you asked out? The one you ran into at the mall? Well, her partner is one of my wife’s oldest friends. When you saw them, they were headed over to our house for dinner.”

There is no need for me to peel away the layers of irony embedded. Anyone who reads the comment section of my blog will get it. For those who don’t, sufficed to say that while I’ve tried to convert David, telling him that he’s not really a liberal, offering instead the transitional moniker of moderate, I’ve told my “very moderate” friend there is no such thing as a moderate, thinking she will eventually admit she is a liberal.

Stunned, I laughed, then remembered what she said. “You mean you’re the one I remind her of?” I said this with a measured degree of incredulity, knowing that David was feeling the same combination of compliment and insult.

“I got to tell you, Dan. I have to applaud your taste in women,” said David. “If I were going to ask out a lesbian, she would be my first choice.”

I have no idea how to feel about that.

Our Tired, Our Poor, and Our Huddled Masses

2006-02-14T23:06:00.000-05:00

Confounded conservatives who have wondered why it has taken President Bush so long to find his ballast with regard to immigration may consider that immigration, both in concept and consequence, touches more facets of America life than any other issue.

At the same time, immigration also demonstrates the shifting of American values like no other issue can. The country that once proclaimed, "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,” now cries, “Oh great! Now what are we supposed to do with them?”

The declaration implicit in those statuesque lines from Emma Lazarus’ poem is that there is value inherent in human life—all human life, be it “homeless [or] tempest-tost.” And that even the “wretched refuse” that came to our shores had something to offer. In fact, those stones that rejected other countries became the cornerstones here.

What immigrants have always offered us Americans is a sense of ourselves. For they seem to best understand that America is not so much a nation as it is an ideal. It is a system of beliefs rooted in faith and the dignity of the human person. Or at least that’s what immigrants and Americans used to believe.

Now, it is precisely the dignity of the human person that stands to be the greatest casualty. The logic that demands we secure our borders in a time of war is interwoven with the rising hostility that many have toward our “wretched refuse.” It takes a wise and discerning heart to tell them apart.

Jingoism may be a result of frustration over immigrant transgressions, but I don’t think it is the cause. The cause of our frustration, at least in part, is what it is doing to our economy. If our social programs have become a magnet for those who would abuse them, foreign or domestic, might we question the magnet?

I am reminded of when I was a young trick-or-treater, coming to the doorstep of a vacant house. There was a large, empty bowl on the porch with a note that read, “Please take only one piece of candy each.” With thinking like that, whoever lived there should have been a senator. Were it today, I’m sure that note would be printed in multiple languages.

The effect that naively benevolent policies have on our economy is only half the tragedy. Consider the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. For four long days in New Orleans, the nation saw how our domestic policies had taken a free people and turned them into tired, poor and huddled masses yearning for a kinder, gentler (not to mention, more efficient) governmental bureaucracy.

Last fall, the liberal lion Ted Kennedy offered an inspiring piece of legislation that guaranteed everyone in America would make at least $6.25/hour. Hardly inspiring to the Mexicans standing outside the Home Depot stores or Texaco stations who know that holding up ten fingers to contractors in pickup trucks will get them $10/hour.

Meanwhile, the most acceptable argument for keeping our borders porous is to allow Mexicans to come in to “do the jobs Americans won’t do.” Does anyone else see the irony here? Show me an American who will work for $5.15/hour—the Kennedy proposal failed—but won’t do the job a Mexican will do for nearly twice that wage in cash, and I’ll show you the product of our public school system. Es la economía, estúpido.

Now consider Europe, where a below-zero birth rate may be the single biggest factor in their faltering economy. Economies are built by people who invest their time and talent in a cause other than themselves. People create capital. The edict, “Be fruitful and multiply” may well have been the best business plan ever put forth. But without talented and committed people, there is no economic growth, stupid.

We, in America, are not much fonder of children. Overpopulation was the “Chicken Little” myth of the boomers’ generation. And as those same boomers prepare for retirement, they have done so by purchasing a prescription drug plan their children can ill afford—children they did not produce enough of.

The generation that is now fertile appears to be afraid to have kids. Either because of devastating consequences of their parents’ divorces, perhaps pure selfishness, or because of the expense involved with raising them, children appear to be a people we are not so open to.

(I’m way overdue for a Bob Dylan quote, so here are a few words from my favorite baby boomer. “You have hurled the worst fear that has ever been hurled; the fear to bring children into this world.”)

While there are “jobs Americans won’t do” (such as customer service that has moved to India, or manufacturing that is now in China), there are also jobs Americans can’t do (such as those in the sciences or engineering). We expect to fill those jobs with people from somewhere else, which brings us back to immigration.

Some argue that the issue is not immigration, but rather illegal immigration. I will unenthusiastically concede this distinction. However, too often what parades as the rule of law is really nothing more than a proprietary bigotry toward our neighbors to the south. If honest, hard-working people of any stripe have to break the law to be able to pursue the American dream and assimilate into the American way of life, shame on the bureaucracy that makes criminals out of those who would otherwise be honest Americans.

Anyone who has a child, or at least has a heart, knows that children cause you to see the world in a whole new way. They cause us to radically adjust our priorities and thinking. We are reminded of miracle and value of human life. So, too, should our perception of immigrants renew our love for our country. It is elemental. Just as children help us to clarify our purpose in life, immigrants remind us of what the purpose of our nation is to be.

And if one does not subscribe to this idealized vision, at least consider letting these folks in so we can tax the hell out of them and avoid having to shoulder the burden of the mess we’ve created alone.

Under Scrutiny, Above Reproach, and Beyond Belief

2006-01-23T01:50:00.000-05:00

What I am about to say might scandalize my readers, confound my friends, and disappoint my mother—but, in all likelihood, I will never become a saint.

It is not that I have failed to at least aspire toward a life of heroic virtue. (I really need to emphasize the word “aspire.”) Nor am I weighing my cause for canonization against the miracles, or the lack thereof, in my life. Rather, the reason I will probably never become a saint is because I doubt I would survive the process.

It is well known that saints, for the most part, live pretty painful lives, often dying as martyrs at an early age. Others toil through unremarkable, even bland, unenviable existences while battling despair and suspicions of futility while drudging through what they see, on a good day, to be “the Lord’s work.”

But that’s life, and not the process to which I was referring.

During the investigation into the cause of canonization, every aspect of a person’s life is put under the microscope. Every letter written or received, every communiqué of any sort is scrutinized in an effort to determine the disposition of the candidate. This process takes years, in some cases, decades.

Yet, ironic as this may be, it is far more likely that I (or anyone else) would become a saint than a justice on the United States Supreme Court.

For most of our nation’s history, nominations to the Supreme Court were no big deal. The senate respected the president’s prerogative, and presidents nominated judges who respected the Constitution and the people’s will as expressed through the other two branches of government. Hearings, if they happened at all, were brief and uneventful, and most votes were unanimous or passed without objection.

So why did things change?

Because a political party so bereft of ideas . . . Scratch that. Because a political party with ideas that were so bereft of traditional values decided to promote initiatives by manipulating the judicial system, knowing they would never survive the legislative process.

Did they honestly think there would not be a pushback?

Arguably the issue that most ensured President Bush’s re-election was his pledge to bring the courts, especially the Supreme Court, back to sanity. (Need I review some of the more egregious verdicts handed down in recent years?) The nomination of John Roberts was truly stellar. Any intellectually honest senator had to admit as much. Still, twenty-two Democrats (including John Kerry) voted against him.

Next came Sam Alito. I will admit that I bought into the conventional wisdom. Roberts was a once-in-a-lifetime nominee, and whoever was to follow might be impressive, but would certainly pale in comparison. Au contraire. To my amazement, Alito was actually superior.

Where Roberts was charming and engaging, Alito was boring and disarming. (And shouldn’t a judge, almost by definition, be boring?) Where Roberts assured us of fealty to the law by demonstrating his love for the law, Alito assured us of fealty by revealing that nothing else had ever crossed his mind.

Democrats had previously decided they would accuse the nominee of not answering questions, and that would be the basis by which they would reject him. But after four days of hearings, eighteen hours of testimony, and over 700 questions, no one was going to believe that.

So what’s a liberal Democrat to do?

Force for a delay in the vote. No doubt, even as I write this, someone within the bowels of MoveOn.org is working away on Photoshop, trying to put Judge Alito’s head under the hood of a KKK Grand Klegal (They should be able to find an old picture of Senator Byrd easily enough.)

Meanwhile, Senator Lautenberg’s aids are probably rummaging through Judge Alito’s. . . aw, what the heck . . . Justice Alito’s garbage looking for a Coke can on which they can plant a pubic hair. (If the Clarence Thomas reference was lost on you, my deepest apologies.)

Lest anyone doubt my assertion that Democrats are bereft of values or original ideas, were not their attempts to imply, insinuate, or accuse Sam Alito of racism or sexism truly pathetic? Which brings them back to Plan A: “He wouldn’t answer the questions!”

What that basically means is that he refused to say the Constitution specifies a right to abortion or that Roe v Wade was “settled law.” (Sidebar: How exactly does one have “settled law” within a Constitution that is a “living document”?)

But what was most remarkable about the hearings was how the Democrats turned on their own. And not just one person, Sam Alito, but all who were once their base.

Yes, once upon a time someone born into an Italian, Catholic family in New Jersey would have represented the base of the Democratic Party. Now such a person represents the greatest threat. Not because he has strayed from the values of his community, but because he has refused to.

The Democratic Party is desperately in need of a conversion. It might be encouraging to point out that even the most wretched sinner can become the most effective saint. Consider St. Paul on the road to Damascus. Falling to the ground and blinded by a light, he heard the voice of Jesus say, “Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?”

If Sam Alito had been permitted to ask any questions in return, I’m thinking that would have been a pretty good one.

King Kong, Al Qaeda, and Curious George

2005-12-31T13:05:00.000-05:00

I’ve always had a thing for monkeys.

I was born in the Year of the Monkey. The first book I remember reading was about a monkey. And my mother tells me of my first trip to the zoo when a monkey took a liking to my curly hair. Despite what was purportedly an entangling and traumatic event, I still hold some measure of affection for our scraped-knuckled brethren. Still, I was conflicted as to whom I should be rooting for as I watched the end of King Kong.

If you haven’t seen the movie yet, do. I won’t tell you much—other than the giant monkey dies in the end—which, of course, you already knew.

Actually, the last scene reminded me of Titanic—a shivering Jack hanging on to the board; a bloodied Kong hanging on to the side of the Empire State Building; both gazing lovelornly into their respective beloved’s eyes before letting go to plunge to their deaths. (Cue the Celine Dion music. Roll the credits.)

Make no mistake about it, though. Kong is a menacing character. Violent, frightening, and vicious. After mastering his island—the same island from which the producers of Jurassic Park had apparently cast their movie—Kong comes to New York and pretty much trashes the place. In fact, after assessing the damage and loss of life, I was wondering who proved a mightier menace to the Big Apple: King Kong or Al Qaeda?

In the climatic scene (which is visually stunning), Kong swings at the assailing airplanes from atop the Empire State Building. When he made contact, a few in the theatre cheered. It seemed a puzzling response to me, given the fact that Kong had just laid waste to Times Square.

Why exactly were they cheering? Did they perceive some hostility on the part of the pilots who were only aiming to protect the citizenry? Or was it simply anti-establishment sentiment?

Lately, I’ve been watching the news with a similar sense of bewilderment. Even if we take the position of our Democratic friends as legitimate, drawing a sharp distinction between the War in Iraq and the War against Al Qaeda, it is still incomprehensible how Democrats can cry foul at the criminally-leaked information that President Bush ordered the clandestine monitoring of those with suspected ties to the terrorist network.

Given the fact that such monitoring has prevented further terrorist attacks, not to mention the total absence of even a hint of abuse, one would think the Democrats would pause to consider this might actually be a prudent and responsible, if not imperative, tactic in an ongoing war. Yet in their paranoid hysteria over Bush’s supposed penchant for secrecy, they have failed to consider the idea that some things ought to actually be secreted.

Case in point, in 1998, after bin Laden’s widely under-reported declaration of war against the United States (and before the attacks of September 11), the CIA had actually obtained bin Laden’s cell number and had been monitoring his conversations—until The Los Angeles Times reported as much, and bin Laden promptly switched his number.

The Washington Post’s recent disclosure could prove every bit as damaging. I have to wonder if these people are even on our side, or if they believe we are actually at war. Perhaps some nationalistic form off self-hatred has rendered them incoherent. In any case, these are the kind of people who were probably cheering for Kong.

Yet, when I seek to understand the motivations of those insisting on actions that ultimately benefit Al Qaeda or those backing Kong, I have to face the notion that something even more insidious may be afoot. There are some among us who might actually believe that America deserves to be attacked.

I do understand that Kong was largely a victim, having been drugged and brought from Skull Island to Ellis Island. (I’m assuming he immigrated legally, albeit unwillingly.) In any event, something about victimhood is apparently endearing. But consider if Kong had come under his own volition, through Mexico, across our southern border, intent on doing us harm. I would hope someone would have the sense to monitor his cellular calls or track his whereabouts rather than arguing that Mr. Kong’s civil liberties must not be violated.

Implicit in the movie is the childishly naïve notion that love conquers all. That is until the very tender scene of Kong ice skating with his girlfriend abruptly ends when a military convoy opens fire on the hopelessly romantic killer monkey.

If only Jimmy Carter could have intervened and prevented the military from acting, maybe love could have found a way. Sure, Kong had anger management issues, issues we all would hope he could work through. But shouldn’t we be willing to tolerate the occasional outburst, even if such outbursts prove fatal on a massive scale, if only for the sake of true love?

I also had to question why Kong would have climbed to the top of the Empire State Building when he had to expect that this would be the height from which he would fall. Perhaps there was no reason other than it provided the filmmakers with a spectacular panorama.

Not dissimilarly, one would have to wonder about Harry Reid’s foolish boast: “We defeated the Patriot Act today.” Perhaps he thought that he, too, looked good. But should Al Qaeda successfully launch another attack against us—assuming we survive such an attack—those words may well end up plunging the Democratic Party to its death.

Immediately following the attacks of September 11, it became abundantly clear that we needed the tools made available by the Patriot Act to prevent further attacks. George W. Bush, due in no small part to his curiosity about Al Qaeda affiliates in this country, prevented further attacks. Though many of those now feigning outrage at such secrecy actually knew about the operation at that time, yet they dared not raise objection then. Having done so would have been unconscionable, unthinkable, and downright treasonous.

In the end, while the terribly romantic notion of beauty killing the beast remains, we all know it was, in fact, the airplanes.

Mules, Methodists, and Moderates

2005-11-21T11:27:00.000-05:00

The Great Carnac opens the envelop and says, “Name three things that God never created.” (If you’re Methodist and offended, keep reading. Apologies to follow.)

I recently met someone who described herself as “very moderate.” When I laughed, thankfully, she was good-natured enough to laugh with me. “Very moderate?” I asked. “Is that like being extremely lukewarm?”

She had an explanation (though not an entirely cogent one), and what I gleaned from it is that she neither wanted to be included nor left out. In an all-or-nothing world where extremism is the pejorative du jour, clearly moderates are looking for their place.

I found this particular moderate fascinating, a walking contradiction who was intelligent and yet counter-intelligent at the same time. She was going to help me prove my theory about moderates, only she didn’t know it yet.

She liked John McCain, Colin Powell, and Lincoln Chafee—not that she knew who Lincoln Chafee was. But when I described him as “the Republican senator from Rhode Island who never voted with the Republicans,” her eyes lit up like she was in love. My theory was advancing.

Our conversation escalated when we realized that we shared an active interest in the Supreme Court. She because of the power and how all societal issues of any import seem to be handled there. Me because I see that as a problem. Her favorite justice? You guessed it. Sandra Day O’Connor. (Incidentally, she described Samuel Alito as “a little scary”—which, coming from a moderate, makes him perfect in the eyes of a conservative.)

“You never know what [O’Connor] is going to do, which side she’ll come down on,” she said with a certain excitement.

“But shouldn’t we know,” I contended. “Shouldn’t it be perfectly clear what the law is?”

My question went to the very heart of what I really wanted her to answer. I wanted her to say what she really believed. While the Left and the Right offer different (dare I say, extremely different) worldviews, it is improbable, if not impossible, that one can be in the middle. At some point, one forms a worldview, or, in Supreme Court parlance, a judicial philosophy.

“So is the Constitution a ‘living document’ or a clearly defined text?” I asked her.

She smiled, unable to repeat the response that had become her mantra without laughing. “Somewhere in middle.”

“What does that mean?! Is your ‘living document’ in the ICU?”

Ultimately, it really is a question of definition. So perhaps I should define what I believe. Borrowing the words of Thomas Moore, “Deep conservatism is an honoring of eternal ideas and values supported by an intelligent appreciation of the past.” A conservative view is essential, lest we devolve into relativism where nothing is defined, and there is, consequently, nothing to believe in.

Think of it this way. If you have wine and add a little sewage, you now have sewage. But if you have sewage and add a little wine, you still have sewage. If liberals or so-called moderates don’t care for their point of view being likened to sewage, so be it. The point is, it ain’t wine.

So here’s my theory. The term “moderate” is nothing more than yet another euphemism for “liberal.” If anyone insists they are, in fact, a moderate, they are only suffering under the burden of shame that is the rightful yolk of a liberal. They are in denial. Be gentle with them.

The rise of moderates has been directly proportional to the obfuscation of liberalism, which has resulted in the avoidance of any objective truth and the unity of one basic tenet: the undermining of conservative principles. What else is there to like about Lincoln Chafee?

A parallel argument is to be found in the world of religion in regard to the interpretation of Scripture. Open interpretation has led to a proliferation of Christian faiths and disparate theologies, some of which are clearly perversions. (Christians seldom have difficulty calling other Christians perverse.)

This seems like as good as spot as any to apologize to the Methodists for my opening jab. Only three friends come to mind who I know to be Methodists. Two of them converted to Catholicism, so I’m pretty confident they’ll forgive me. But the third one is probably going to be pissed. Oh well. Methodists at least have a sense of humor, I hope. Not like the Baptists.

Where was I? Oh yeah, interpreting Scripture.

Scripture can be interpreted literally, or it can be interpreted seriously. The literal translation gets into trouble when one really delves into the account of creation or asks what it literally means to be “born again.” It reduces people to seeking out proof texts that will validate a view they already hold, usually at the expense of another text elsewhere in Scripture. Not dissimilarly, to interpret Scripture as one might interpret a piece of abstract art also deprives it of any real meaning.

Simply put, Scripture means what the author intended it to mean. It means what it has always meant. The “Living Word” is not a “living document” that can be molded and reshaped according to the whim of the interpreter. And neither is the Constitution.

Consider what God thought of moderates. “So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth (Rev. 3:16) .”

I had been working on this entry yesterday when I took a break to get to Mass. The Gospel reading was from the 25th chapter of Matthew:

“He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world . . . Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.”

I found myself thinking, “That makes sense. But what about the mules?”

Changing Hearts, Changing Minds, and Changing the Strategery

2005-11-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

I recently vowed to kill a man.

Before you think me criminal, irrational, or dangerous, I would like for you to consider one point. He really deserved it.

For legal reasons (and so as not to undo the settlement I eventually, um . . . brokered), I will not go into any detail. However, I will say that it dealt with medical insurance and a billing issue. Need I really say any more?

When the dispute recently escalated, I sought advice from cooler heads, not finding one anywhere near my shoulders. “Send a personal letter, and politely make your point there.” “You might want to contact the insurance commissioner.” My favorite:” If you ignore the bills, they’ll probably just quit sending them.” After heeding all of that advice, it was clear a slightly more aggressive approach was going to be necessary. A little righteous indignation can go a long way.

This might well end up being the theme of Bush’s second term.

But before I advise the president on how to do his job, I have to say, his is a job I really wouldn’t want. Historically, with maybe one exception, it’s a job I wouldn’t wish on my worse enemy. George W. Bush does seem to have it exceptionally rough, though.

Consider the fact that Kennedy had to deal with nukes in Cuba; Johnson had Vietnam; Nixon had Vietnam and Watergate; Ford had Nixon; Carter had Iran; Reagan had Iran-Contra; Bush 41 had a minor recession; and Clinton had Monica.

Now consider that President Bush has had his version of all of these crises—except for Monica—and that was just October. Hate the man if you must, but you have to be awed by his sheer stamina. And through it all, he has not said one harsh or unkind word toward those who hate him.

In a time when the opposition party is not offering opposing ideas, but rather is obsessed with destroying his administration through any means necessary, President Bush has tried to kill them with kindness. Yet this congenial approach seems to have only earned him more scorn, convincing his detractors that he is a gullible dolt.

Now the Democratic leadership is calling for the firing of Karl Rove (a.k.a. “Bush’s brain’) even though he hasn’t even been accused of anything, let alone indicted. For months, Democrats had been fantasizing that he would be. Some dreams die miserable deaths. As for Libby, he’ll be acquitted.

Still Democrats keep their refrain “culture of corruption,” unable to avoid the allure of alliteration that Nipsy Russell finally succumbed to. God rest his soul.

But last week when Harry Reid invoked Rule 21 to shut down the Senate, intending to focus all media attention on how Bush “misled” us into war, I really got scared. Not because there was any merit to the charge, or that there was new information that hadn’t yet seen an election cycle, but because in that moment it became undeniably clear that one of the parties in our two-party system had lost its faculties.

I’d grown accustomed to hearing such nonsense, assuming it to be politics as usual, tricks to guide the disinterested into the party of Michael Moore. But then it became clear that these people actually believe what they are saying, which all boils down to “Bush lied.” While plenty of other mouths had also been warning about Iraq, the only thing different about Bush’s mouth is that it had teeth in it.

I will make no attempt to defend the “lies” because any sentient person (Patrick Fitzgerald) who wanted to honestly assess the situation would conclude the accusation of lying to be nonsense. But the Democratic leadership is no longer even mildly sentient. Their rage has reduced them to delusional fits, and whatever power they still hold makes them a danger to themselves and others.

Sound overstated? Consider this.

Even if I were to concede (for the sake of argument, of course) that Bush lied about WMD; that the war was waged to enrich Halliburton; and that Saddam was no threat to us, there are still realities we cannot deny. We are still at war with Al Qaeda. Anyone remember them? Yet the Democrats are AWOL. Come to think of it, absent would be preferable to the treasonous tactics they are now engaged in.

Again, sound overstated?

Why would the Washington Post expose covert detention centers in Europe where Al Qaeda (the enemy, right?) are being detained? Will this jeopardize our soldiers or our mission? Will it become valuable intelligence for our enemy? Of course it will. And isn’t that why they did it? Frightening. There had better be at least as much interest shown in investigating the disclosure of this as there was to the big nothing that was “PlameGate.”

If you don’t immediately concur with my underlying assumption that the Washington Post and Democrats share an agenda, will you be able to deny it when Harry Reid starts asserting these detention centers are Abu Ghraib all over again? Believe me, that is coming.

Clearly, the goal of Democrats is to so weaken the president that he can no longer execute the war, nominate judges, or rely on his advisors. And the hell with the consequences. Bush’s approval ratings are at an all-time low. Touché. Yet the harder Democrats work to destroy President Bush, absent constructive ideas, the lower their numbers go and the less chance they have of ever regaining their power. Thank God for little favors. And thank God for giving us such a strong and steady leader in this dangerous time.

Mr. Bush went to Washington with the hope of being a “a uniter, not a divider.” Given the respect he had earned from Democrats and Republicans alike as the governor of Texas, it seemed a task well within his means. Yet the dedication Al Qaeda has to destroying us pales in comparison to the single-minded focus Democrats have had on destroying our president.

Bush had hoped to “change the culture of Washington.” He failed. There may be a time to kill ‘em with kindness. This ain’t it. If the Democrats insist on acting like the enemy, perhaps President Bush should start treating them like it. Short of that, a little righteous indignation can go a long way.

And just to clarify, I didn’t actually “vow to kill man.” I just refused to let go of his throat—metaphorically speaking, of course.

The Supreme Court, The Crying Game, and the Gentle Art of Persuasion

2005-10-07T11:30:00.004-05:00

So I think I got this whole Harriet Miers thing figured out.

When George Bush 41 lost to Bill Clinton, the most talked about movie the year was The Crying Game. Thanks to the wisdom of some good friends, I never saw the movie. I was told it was disturbing and would be especially traumatic for me, given my sensible sensibilities, as I prefer to think of them.

The film, from what I’ve gleaned, features an attractive female character who, in the end, turns out not to be female. The shock, if not horror, that many viewers experienced came about because they had emotionally (perhaps lustfully) invested in a character who was not at all what they thought.

This might seem an especially awkward introduction to my thoughts on Harriet Miers, so perhaps I should apologize now. In fact, some of my more ardent fans (or committed enemies) might want to print out this blog and save it because it might well be my first blog I’ll have to rescind. But before I rescind or apologize, perhaps I could explain.

The genesis for this think piece came when I heard the president’s second nominee for the Supreme Court described as “Souter in drag” on the Laura Ingraham Show. I cringed, thinking it especially harsh given what we know about this woman, which is essentially nothing.

For better or for worse, all Republican nominees for the High Court will always be viewed in the light of (perhaps I should say, in the shadow of) David Souter. That is why so many conservatives would like the president to rescind this nomination. But not so quick. There may be more at play here.

I’ve never bought into the theory that Bush 43 is driven by an Oedipal complex, but I do think that he is absolutely determined not to make any of the mistakes of his father. And make no mistake about it, Souter was a mistake of mythic proportions. So given the way this President Bush has never seemed to lack what his father dismissively called the “vision thing,” I’d like to hold out hope that there may be a grander scheme in the works.

Having the mentality (as well as mental acumen—not to mention the heart rate) of a jock, Bush 43 is exactly the kind of man who gives the clichéd “one-hundred and ten percent.” It would be his way to not only avoid his father’s mistake, but to rectify it. Enter Harriet Miers.

If politics makes for strange bedfellows, I can only imagine what relationships are like in the Judiciary. It is known that Scalia and Thomas enjoy debating theology in their spare time. In fact, it was largely because of these debates that Clarence Thomas, who was raised Catholic but left the Church, would eventually return to it.

Given some of the tragic decisions Souter has helped to hand down, it is only reasonable to think he may benefit from an intellectual sparring partner of his own. And if love should blossom, so be it. Perhaps Harriet could use some her feminine wiles to woo David to our way of thinking.

After initially skating around descriptions of androgyny, it seems unlikely that I would now try to suggest a love connection. But one thing the two have in common is that they are both in their 60’s, and neither has ever married. Incidentally, does anyone else find it ironic that a man who seemed destined for a life of bachelordom would have a surname like suitor?

Honestly folks, I’m grasping at straws here.

Returning to the theme of not getting what you thought, I was among those angered that President Bush did not nominate Janice Rogers Brown or Priscilla Owens or Michael Luttig. In fact, during Wednesday’s unnecessary and unnecessarily long press conference, Bush did his level best to convince us that his decision was sound. Yet, the only thing I was convinced of was the president I have so ardently supported is a dolt.

Suddenly I could no longer tolerate his stammering for words, his embarrassingly repetitious recitation of talking points that seemed to suggest the whole of his brain power had been reached in just remembering them. The underpinning of it all was simply that we should trust him. Fine. We trusted him to nominate Janice Rogers Brown or Priscilla Owens or Michael Luttig, and he didn’t!

Our only consolation is that the president knows Harriet Miers, that he has somehow looked into her eyes and seen her soul. Whatever. I no more want Harriet Miers on the Court than I want Vladimir Putin.

Especially offensive is the wink and the nod with which he seems to be signaling that his choice is an Evangelical Christian. So what?! Does that make her an expert on Constitutional Law or assure us of her fidelity to it? Frankly, if Bush is trying to tell us she is an immoveable Fundamentalist (not to be confused with an originalist or a foundationalist), then I’m really unnerved.

I am reminded of a joke about the difference between a Fundamentalist and terrorist. The difference being that you can negotiate or reason with a terrorist.

Lest anyone be confused where I’m coming from, I am a Christian—at least on a good day. But experience has taught me that if anyone goes out of their way to tell me that they are Christian, I am suspicious. If they tell me twice, I am warned. A third time, and I am gone.

What we are looking for is sound reasoning and adherence to the law. A grounded faith should aid that, not circumvent it, regardless of what decision I’d like to see reached. I expect that if there is anything faulty or lacking in the law, those whom we elect, preferably moral people guided by faith, will aim to correct it through the legislative process—provided we can trust them to do what we ask them to do.

In the end, it may well be me who is embarrassed by what I have written. After all, Bush has not faltered on the issue of judges thus far. Is he not the one who found Janice Rogers Brown and Priscilla Owens and Michael Luttig and put them on the lower courts?

And for Harriet Miers to have been involved in vetting these people, she knows exactly what the president and his supporters want. For her to be from any other mold would suggest that she is diabolical beyond plausibility. In fact, it is far more likely that Bush found someone who could love Souter than someone who could turn into him.

Natural Disasters, Manmade Disasters, and the Wisdom to Know the Difference

2005-09-11T10:26:00.000-05:00

It is impossible for me to separate my memories of college from my memories of New Orleans.

Foremost among those memories these days is that fall semester when my fraternity refused to cancel a party in the face of the oncoming hurricane. While the locals were boarding up their windows and the universities were advising their students to evacuate, we insisted that God was not going to cancel our party and went to the liquor store so we could make hurricanes of our own. In the end, we were lucky.

The storm turned and just dumped a bunch of rain on us. Given the fact that inside my fraternity house—that “uptown mansion” with its rotting floors, broken windows, and punch-stained walls—the booze got thrown around with such abandon that then rain was how we cleaned up on the way home.

“Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son,” was the most oft-quoted line from Animal House, the movie that set our standard for how to go through life.

We believed, or at least behaved as though we were indestructible. The rest of the city had learned how to cope. Houses were built up on pilings to let the occasional flood waters wash beneath them. Those who wanted a little rental income finished out basement apartments to rent to college students. They got used to replacing the indoor/outdoor carpeting every couple three years when a flood would ease its way in the side door. The smells remained as part of the culture.

Outside, cars were parked either up on the medians or on ramps that would elevate them just enough to keep the flowing waters below the wheelbase. Some with a sense of humor got out their row boats and paddled down the streets until the city’s pumps could remove the water, dumping it into Lake Pontchartrain. And these pictures of devastation we are all now seeing on television, at least those where the water has receded, to my eyes, look no different than any major street in the city on Ash Wednesday.

I mention this because it is important to understand the mentality that exists in New Orleans when trying to answer the question, Why weren’t the levees reinforced?

This was known to be a liability for decades. Perhaps the fact that the disaster had not been realized provided some comfort for those who chose to behave as though it never would. Nevertheless, elected officials from the state continued to collect federal monies for the Army Corp of Engineers, more than any other state in the union.

With that money, they built a casino, bought jets for the use of those who served on the levee board, spent money on political campaigns, and though I cannot prove it, I’d bet a good chunk of it went into Mardi Gras. To a New Orleanian way of thinking, not to have spent money there would have been criminal.

Louisiana is a state whose political identity is derived from its corruption and whose charm is so tied to its decadence and debauchery that to suggest something should change would be blasphemous.

I remember a girl who called her father and told him that she had failed out of college, burned through all her money, and had gotten pregnant. She waited for her father to clutch his heart, then laughed, telling him that her grades were okay, that she was not pregnant, but that she could use a little money. Her father was all too happy to cough up a check.

So now that we properly understand the perceived role of government, perhaps we could examine the proper role of a free people in a self-governed land.

Of the thousands of evacuees who showed up at the convention center and Superdome, virtually none of them even brought their own water, despite the city’s evacuation plan that instructed them to do so. In a time of national emergency, those who could carry their own water, literally, still expected someone else to do it for them. (For those of you with a scriptural familiarity, think of lamp oil.) If even Jesus can’t save us from ourselves, where do we get off thinking that FEMA can?

For those who think I’m blaming the victim, the point is many of these same people would not have been victims had they made even minimal preparation. And no, I am not talking about the infirm or the indigent. But it does seem like those who were able to get those people to the polls last November could have gotten them to the Superdome last month.

When the time comes to rationally assess what happened, I’m sure there will be plenty of blame to go around. I, too, watched with exasperation, astounded at how busses could not get to the Superdome or convention center, either to bring food and water in or to take people out. I would very much like to understand the breakdown that seemed to be interminable. In time, we will.

Yet in those first few days that followed, CNN pondered whether the other nations of the world would rally to help us in our time of need as we have always helped them. I thought, “God help us.” If we as Americans first look out for help rather than call upon that which is within, we will become a weak and emasculated people that are truly doomed.

And therein lies the fundamental divide in our country.

This was a nation founded on the truly radical notion of self-government—the belief that the people, deserving of freedom, could set up a system of government, not as an end in itself, but as a means to the end of assuming responsibility for our own well being. In a government of the people, by the people, and for the people, the power starts with the people and is ceded, as necessary, to authorities beyond them.

Yet when these authorities, these citizen leaders, take that sacred trust and convert it into blame cast as far removed from them as possible, we are starting to see the problem. (Then again, maybe the authority given is not a sacred trust, but merely a cowardly and lazy abdication of responsibility to those all to happy to grab it.) Whatever the reality, no government imaginable will ever be able to insulate a people from suffering or provide equitably what can be achieved fairly. This is a foundational truth of our country, and one that, sadly, inspires hostility from far too many.

Lastly, the issue of race seems inescapable, being that virtually all those left behind in the New Orleans flood were black. We live in a culture where the worst crime a person can commit is racism. Yet many who levy the charge do so with impunity. They are sincere in their emotion, but are often reckless in their pronouncements and indifferent to the destructive consequences. That telethon rapper who bad-mouthed Bush only engendered ill will.

The only thing insulating the governor from the accusation of racism (or anything else, for that matter) is that fact that she is a Democrat. Yet when the Democrats have run that state since Jefferson purchased it, how is it that no one asks why, in New Orleans, poverty seems to be synonymous with race? Like the integrity of the levees, the problem of race in New Orleans existed long before Katrina. What we saw was a disaster, indeed. But no one should delude themselves into thinking this was anything other than a manmade disaster.

Stupid Ideas, Hazzardous Observations, and Other Things We Ought Not Say

2005-08-24T09:23:00.000-05:00

Apparently, if anyone wants to cash in on their 15 minutes of fame by saying something stupid, now would be the time to do it.

It would be all too easy to pick on Cindy Sheehan, so I’ll have to refrain from doing that. But aren’t her 15 minutes up yet?

Clearly, it is a slow news cycle, and if our self-described fourth branch of government were not camped outside Bush’s Crawford Ranch, I’d fully expect them to be in the middle of a crop circle in Roswell, New Mexico waiting for a UFO to penetrate our hemispheric border.

The old adage is sex sells. The new adage appears to be stupidity sells—at least that what the cable news networks seem to believe.

But sex and stupidity? That sells tickets to see The Dukes of Hazzard on the big screen. Me? I’m just dumb enough to wait for the DVD. But I digress.

Back to CNN’s stupid coverage. Pat Robertson apparently called for the assassination of Hugo Chávez (not to be confused with Hugo Boss or Cesar Chávez), and CNN went with wall-to-wall live coverage. Okay. Why?

Pat Robertson’s program, The 700 Club, I believe, is on that low-numbered cable channel, the one that always buzzes with the blurred horizontal lines. Never having watched the channel for more than four or five seconds, I’ve always assumed the quality of broadcast mirrored the quality of content, and that reflected the viewership.

In other words, CNN getting bent about what Pat Robertson says would be a little like the FCC getting in a huff because of something Wayne and Garth did in their basement. I would be willing to bet that more Americans know who Wayne and Garth are than know that Hugo Chávez was the president of Venezuela—after he managed the Latin boy band Menudo, of course.

The official word from the White House was that Pat Robertson was a private citizen and could, therefore, say any stupid thing he like—kind of like Cindy Sheehan. The official word from Hugo Chávez was, “¿Quien es Pat Robertson?”

Stupidity also sells concert tickets. The new Rolling Stones tune, “My Neocon,” brings back memories of their previous pro-Saddam/anti-war apocalyptic dance anthem, “Highwire.” Never heard of it? That’s because by the time they finished writing and recording it, the war was over. Menudo got heavier rotation.

Ever get the sense that we were spoiled by the Gulf War?

Barbra Streisand is hoping that stupidity will bring her back into the pop mainstream. So she has teamed up again with Barry “and-we-got-nothing-to-be-Guilty-of” Gibb to record the first ever (to my knowledge) anti-war love song. In the words of the hairiest Bee Gee, “It ought to be illegal.”

With all the stupidity going around, I’m feeling a little left out, wishing I could think of something really stupid to say. (There’s a free shot for my favorite liberal. Dave . . ?) Say something stupid and you’re famous for 15 minutes. But write something stupid and you can be immortal. Just ask Hunter S. Thompson, God rest his soul.

Hard as it is to believe, even stupidity loses its charm. Sooner or later, adages like “it is not unpatriotic to dissent” or “but she has the right to say it” have to give way to legitimate thought or discourse.

This would normally be where I would segue into a more salient point, but, to be honest, I really don’t feel like it. It’s funner being stupid.

Support for the war is waning, and so is my desire to champion it. This does not mean that my opinion is changing just because my mood is weary. We’d all be in trouble if our president wrote policy according to his mood on any given day.

But Bush, love him or hate him, is known for his resolve. He looked dead tired when I watched the news last night—and supposedly he’s resting up on vacation. Maybe it was just because that story followed the one on Pat Robertson, but I looked at President Bush and thought, “Now there’s a man in need of prayers.”

Poll numbers are down and supportive pundits all seem to be saying that he’s got to beat the war drum to keep morale up. How do you say what has already effectively been said hundreds of times when what you really need to do is alert an entire culture to the fact that instant gratification has corrupted our thinking?

Ever get the sense that we were spoiled by the Gulf War?

At the same time, non-supportive pundits, Democrats and terrorist are all hoping President Bush will just give up and go fishin’ for the rest of his tenure. He knows that would be stupid.

So here’s where I go way out on a limb.

I don’t think Pat Robertson’s opinion that a covert CIA operative should take out Hugo Chávez is stupid. I think the fact that he said it is. Donald Rumsfeld responded with a statement eerily reminiscent of Barry Gibb, saying not only that it ought to be illegal, but that it, in fact, is.

So who writes these laws, laws that would rather see thousands of citizens soldiers die rather than two or three dictators who really need to? The questions we ought to be asking are: Would it save American lives? Would it save us $200 billion? Would it have been such a bad thing if President Clinton had handled Bin Laden that way when he had the chance?

To be clear, I have no opinion of the president of Venezuela, nor do I keep a list of people I would like to see shot—not written down at least. Though I did just start reading Bernard Goldberg’s list in 100 People Who Are Screwing Up America. If that gives me any ideas I’ll let you know.

Robertson’s comment reminded me of something Richard Nixon once said. It was late in life, not long before he died, and 60 Minutes was interviewing him. When asked about President Bush’s handling of the Gulf War, Nixon confided that he would have approached it differently. (Note to self: never confide to a camera.)

He said that he would have had a CIA covert operative make a hit on Saddam Hussein, then realizing what he had just said, quickly added, “assuming they still do that kind of thing,” back-peddling further, “assuming they ever did.”

It sounds like Pat Robertson loves Richard Nixon almost as much as I do. But maybe we’re all just stupid.

Attila the Hun, Rick the Santorum, and That Dammed Mainstream

2005-08-14T21:20:00.000-05:00

I have big news. You might want to sit down for this.

Are you ready?

I’m moderating my views.

About a month ago, I was over at a friend’s house for dinner. She was wearing a shirt with a quote on the back. “It is not enough that I win. Others must lose,” attributed to Attila the Hun. (And yes, these are the kind of friends I have.)

”It’s not exactly Christian,” she said. “But I think it’s funny.”

Her father was a Republican strategist in Washington, and his firm printed the shirts up as something of a gag. Though sympathetic to the view (especially in light of the current political climate), I did not relish the thought of being sympathetic toward one of history’s most brutal tyrants. So I supposed a kinder, gentler phrasing would be in order. “It is not enough that I win. Others must lose gracefully.”

(Even though I am moderating my views, it is still important to remember that my point of reference is Attila the Hun.)

Then again, perhaps I should challenge the assumption that Attila the Hun would have been on the right side of the political spectrum. Being a conqueror would make him a totalitarian, which would make him an advocate for a powerful government, which would obviously make him a Democrat.

Come to think of it, I would not be to the left of Attila the Hun at all. I would be to the right—to the far right. So I guess I am not moderating my views at all. Disregard that whole bit about my having big news. What I am actually doing is clarifying.

And the word most abundantly in need of clarification in our current political lexicon would be “mainstream.” When Ted Kennedy praises the efforts of the so-called “moderate” Gang of 14 for being “mainstream,” one has to wonder why the senator did not join them if their cause was so noble. Would he, therefore, by his own definition, be “out of the mainstream”?

Recently, Senator Kennedy broke the rules of Senate decorum to call out Rick Santorum for something he wrote for an online op-ed page three years ago. Santorum, who has never been shy about expressing the Catholic faith or unable to realize the wisdom behind it, wrote, “It is no surprise that Boston, a seat of academic, political and cultural liberalism in America, lies at the center of the storm.”

Santorum was, of course speaking of the pedophilia scandal within the Catholic Church. The fact that the comment would bring such outrage, feigned or genuine, was surprising to me because Santorum was absolutely right.

The dioceses across the country that are the most liberal in terms of theology (liberal meaning to stray from the clear teachings of the Church) receive fewer vocations, face greater financial struggles, see lower attendance at mass, and have the most incidences of priestly abuse. We can argue cause or effect another time, but the correlation is just a plain fact.

At party a couple of weeks ago, I struck up a conversation with someone with whom I would soon realize that I had little in common. Believe it or not, I expressed few of my own views. (I didn’t even refer him to my blog.) Rather, believing him to be of good character, I genuinely wanted to understand his points of view, particularly his impression of Santorum’s comments, being that he was from Boston.

“Santorum said that the people of Boston deserved it,” he said in outrage.

There was no doubt that my new friend felt as though that was what Santorum said. What he actually said, though, was a different question. So when I got home, I googled Santorum, looking for his piece in its original form. What I found was a rude awakening.

Many of the websites attacking Santorum were so vile and disgusting that I hesitate even make mention of them, not wanting to inspire the slightest curiosity. But consider that if the former Senator from Nebraska, the Honorable Bob Kerrey, can suggest that “Santorum” must be “Latin for a**hole,” you can imagine how low those without honor would be willing to go. And the way they came at me was like porn pop-ups when I opened the wrong email or entered the wrong URL.

Here’s a note for you hardcore liberals out there. No one will be won over to your way of thinking by such vulgarity and hatred. Furthermore, not everyone thinks pornography is such a wonderful thing.

A note to rational people of any stripe, if you care to read Santorum’s comments for yourself, let me save you the trouble. http://www.catholic.org/featured/headline.php?ID=30

What Rick Santorum has said varies none from what the Catholic Church has long been saying. How these people can be shocked by that is truly shocking to me. When liberals speak of views that are “outside the mainstream,” these are the views of which they are speaking.

Those who fear I’m going to proselytize (or those who want me to) can relax. My point is only to put the Catholic Church in the context of history. The Church is not only the foundation for all Christian faiths, but Her impact on philosophy, art, and morality is without parallel. In fact, the Catholic Church has been the sole guardian of all Western thought throughout certain periods of history. Again, not a sales pitch, just a little something to consider when trying to define the concept of “mainstream.”

It used to be that Americans had a shared vision, though we may have had different views on how to achieve it. I do not believe that is true any longer. I believe the Left has so radically redefined its concept of America that it bears little resemblance to what we have long held sacred.

So, unable to win at the ballot box, the Left now seeks to redefine the boundaries and rules for debate. (Come to think of it, wouldn’t an election be an excellent indicator of what is or is not “mainstream”?) Those who hold to traditional values are viewed with suspicion, and those values are thought to be discredited as stemming from religious beliefs. They are, therefore, considered to be unfit for the public square—let alone the Supreme Court.

If the chairman of the Democratic National Committee can openly say, “I hate Republicans and everything they stand for,” ought we not ask what they think of the Church? Make no mistake about it, that which most angers, animates, and confounds the Left are the very issues that put them at odds with the Holy Catholic Church. No one knows this better than the junior Senator from Pennsylvania.

If liberals are unwilling to heed the warning of Rick the Santorum, perhaps they could learn something from Attila the Hun. In the mid-fifth century, Attila was pillaging Northern Italy, on his way to Rome. After a personal confrontation with Pope Leo the Great, he saw a heavenly vision of Saints Peter and Paul carrying swords. (The scene is depicted above the tomb of Pope Saint Leo the Great in the Basilica of Saint Peter in Vatican City.) Even Attila the Hun had the sense to turn back.

Whether or not liberals will find the same sense is a question for which we are all awaiting the answer.

The Fall of JFK, the Rise of GWB, and Other Traumatic Events

2005-08-03T08:28:00.000-05:00

Newsflash: Lee Harvey Oswald killed John F. Kennedy.

If that’s not news to you, it sure was to me. During my entire lifetime, the assassination of President Kennedy has been an event mired in speculation, generating generations of conspiracy theorists who have effectively de-filed the event to the unknowable annals of popular history. So when the History Channel, some 40-odd years after the fact, airs a program that emphatically states that Oswald acted alone, I could not help but receive the idea as novel.

Starting with the Zapruder film, the producers were able to recreate the scene at Dealey Plaza with Matrix-like special effects, factoring every relevant detail, from the position of those in the limosine to the trajectory of the bullet coming from the window of the book depository. They not only proved that it was entirely possible that Oswald fired the fatal shots, but that it was absolutely impossible that anyone else could have. Oswald acted alone. End of story.

So why does the speculation persist? I can think of two reasons.

Within the same month I saw this documentary, I also watched the Today Show interview someone who claimed to have been a part of the conspiracy to kill President Kennedy. He was below the street, in the sewer that day (if you care to believe him), and though he did not fire any shots, he claimed to know who did.

Had this self-professed mafioso had even a modicum of credibility, I would think that someone slightly more important than Katie Couric would have wanted to talk to him. (And no, I don’t mean Oliver Stone.) Instead he sat before NBC’s cameras, bloviating while Katie listened with rapt attention, confident her viewers would as well.

Speculation persists because it is interesting.

And it is interesting only because of the chance, no matter how illogical or improbable, that it might be true. True or not true is not interesting. But Maybe? Now that’s fascinating.

The disingenuous filmmaker (and no, I don’t mean Michael Moore) who concocted JFK knew as much. Because holding such speculation to reasoned scutiny would be a buzz-killer, Stone took “artistic license” while he made a counterfeit deposit on the public’s consciousness. The Deep Throat-esque character portrayed by Donald Sutherland did not exist—not as an actual person, a composite character, or even an exaggeration. Stone’s most credible witness was a total fabrication. He was, nevertheless, interesting.

The other reason, I suppose, that conspiracy rumors endure is because there are some things too horrible to accept, so we simply refuse to. Could one insignificant man really kill the leader of the free world? We would hate to think so, so we seek alternate explanations. While Oliver Stone (and Michael Moore) may have ulterior motives, many who would accept wild theories do so out of a sense of desperation.

For many liberals, the election of George W. Bush was as traumatic an event as the death of JFK. Thus the conspiracy theories bourne out of the Florida recount that still exist today. And as with JFK, what may have once been an understandable coping mechanism has grown into a full-blown dimentia.

Now consider the events of September 11, 2001. Bob Dylan released an album on that day with a song, “Honest with Me,” that offered the line: “Some things are too terrible to be true.” (Actually, the whole album is laced with lines that are eerie when heard in the wake of that fateful day.) The terror came not only in the massive loss of life, but also in the loss of our innocence. No longer could we consider anything to be both terrible and impossible.

That is the best I can do in trying to understand some people’s current attitude toward the war against Islamic terrorists. Absent steady reminders (which the president has done splendidly in protecting us from), the president runs the risk of losing support from those who now have the luxury of pushing terrible thoughts out of their minds.

In the days that followed the attacks, we were all Americans, as the French had put it. (How ironic is that?) Bush’s approval rating was somewhere upwards of 90 percent and remained there for months. Americans were experiencing a real sense of patriotism—all Americans. So if Bush is saying the same things now that he was saying then, how did the patriotism turn into partisanism?

If you take a group of people desperate to believe something/anything and propose even the most incredible or illogical of theories, some will entertain them. Doubt will take root, resolve will weaken, and a political agenda will have been served. For today’s Democrats, that would truly be a mission accomplished. But let’s get back to JFK.

Is it any wonder that such a cynicism toward government followed the assassination of President Kennedy and the finding by the Warren Commission that Oswald acted alone? Has anyone heard of the “magic bullet theory”? That one came compliments of Arlen Specter. So if you can’t explain or can’t accept the truth of what happened, find another truth. And by all means, find an interesting one. Oliver Stone did.

Oliver Stone is also reportedly working on a 9/11 film. What will we learn from this film? If history is any indication, whatever we want to.

Locution, Locution, Locution

2005-07-24T21:00:00.000-05:00

Okay, I don’t know if there’s going to be a filibuster or not, but I’ve been dying to use that title since I published my Kelo posting!

Honestly, I am kind of hoping for a filibuster. I’ve never seen one, and I think it would be fun. It would also provide further opportunity for the Democrats to make fools of themselves—not that they haven’t already started.

A couple of weeks ago, the esteemed senator from New York was overheard talking about how Democrats “are going to go to war” over the Supreme Court nominee. The next day, Islamic terrorist attacked our most loyal ally in the war on terrorist, and Schumer still seems more concerned with his war on Republicans. He should consider his words more carefully.

Soon after, Schumer re-qualifies his prior consent of Priscilla Owen and Janice Rogers Brown, wanting to bar them from the Supreme Court because the Supreme Court is “where you can make law.” Huh? Did a member the legislative body, a leader in the U.S. Senate, really just say that the . . .

This just in . . . Terrorist Attack London—Again! Investigation ongoing . . . We now rejoin our previously scheduled blog, already in progress.

Then after President Bush formally nominates John Roberts, Senator Schumer talks about needing to know the views of “someone who will have huge power over most Americans,” and I wonder if there is one sane being still in the Democratic Party.

“Huge power over most Americans” ? I can think of nothing more antithetical to the American spirit than that.

Does Chuck Schumer really believe that the Supreme Court is the arbiter of our very liberties and freedoms? Or might our certain “unalienable rights” be endowed by our Creator?

Consider the words of Christ to Pilate. “You would have no power over me if it had not been given to you from above (John 19:11).” Or in our case, government would have no power over us if it had not been given to it by us.

I do not wish to foster an us/them view of government when we need to remember we are a self-governed people—thank God. (Do I need to harp on the whole “government of the people, by the people, for the people” thing again?) It is in this “huge” deposit in government that we can understand the essence, which is to say the folly, of liberalism.

It is as though we have built our own breed of Trojan horse. Our government is this beautiful structure that we never imagined could do us harm. Then we unwittingly deposited our hopes and dreams, gradually our freedoms and liberties into it, and now we are watching this beautiful horse, which is to say our beloved government, run amuck.

Consider the words of Thomas Jefferson. “The government that governs least governs best.” Similarly, it would seem that the court that rules the least rules the best.

The problem with the Supreme Court is that it hears cases and issues rulings that it has no business hearing or ruling upon. Roe v Wade has been the most contentious not only because it deals with the issue of abortion, but because if the Court were to respect its proper boundaries (something it clearly did not do in Roe—or Kelo, for that matter), liberals will have lost the apparatus by which they, as Chuck Schumer says, “make law.”

When the Supreme Court eventually overturns Roe—and make no mistake about it, that is really what all this is about—pro-lifers and pro-choicers can leave the steps of the Supreme Court and march to the Capitol, which is where they belong. And those nine lawyers will have assumed their rightful identity, that of a staid and predictable branch of government, independent and distinct from the others.

Speaking of staid and predictable, John G. Roberts appears to be a good nominee. Consider the (supposed) words of Warren G. Harding. “Americans want their president to be boring, and I have no intention of disappointing them.” I would hope we could all say the same of Supreme Court nominees.

So back to this business of a filibuster. The more opportunities Democrats have to keep making the kind of comments Schumer can’t seem to save himself from, the better. Reasonable Democrats—scratch that. Oxymoron. Reasonable people who unwittingly elect unreasonable Democrats will have real reason to reconsider how they vote.

Given that the talking points and self-incrimination can only go so far, the Democrats will probably end up reading something to pass time. In the past, the Bible was read. I seriously doubt any today’s Democrats would let that happen. But then again, they are looking for ways to lure “values voters” back into their camp, so I would not put such a shamelessly transparent stunt past them.

It would be wise to consider the words of the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, or Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. But I doubt Democrats will find these texts in support of their agenda. Nor do I expect them to be intellectually honest and read from Das Kapital. So instead, look for Dick Durbin to read Catch 22, or Harry Reid to read Harry Potter.

Yes, if the Democrats place themselves in front of an open microphone for an indefinite amount of time, they had better consider their words carefully. Or they could consider the words of Bob Dylan. “You want to talk to me/Go ahead and talk\Whatever you got to say to me/Won't come as any shock.”

If Democrats allow a dignified confirmation hearing, that would be a shock.

Absurd Hyperbole, Soft Bigotry, and the Evolution of Rock and Roll

2005-07-13T14:13:00.000-05:00

One of three things recently happened to me. I suddenly got old. I suddenly got smart. Or I suddenly realized just how stupid the rest of this old world actually is.

I had this epiphany while watching some of the Live 8 concerts. (Those of you who were going to put money on my having gotten smart now have reason to reconsider.) I, of course, experienced this event through the prism of Live Aid——I was 16 then——and, as one does increasingly with increasing years, yearned for the music of yesteryear.

But Live 8 represented more than the deterioration of popular music——if that statement, in and of itself, is not an overstatement. Live 8 represented the loss of language——or maybe I should say the loss of reason. Consider the following:

Bob Geldof boasted an audience of 3 billion, an estimate off by about 2.97 billion. David Beckham (hubby of Posh Spice) called the “amazing” night “one of the most historical days I have ever personally been involved in,” but did not say exactly what his involvement was. And then there was Chris Martin (Gwyneth Paltrow’s hubby and lead singer of Coldplay) who called the concert “the greatest thing that's ever been organised probably in the history of the world.”

Was the world this stupid 20 years ago, and I, in my relative youth and inexperience, failed to notice? For simplicity sake, let me just say, perhaps.

So why such absurd hyperbole? I can think of two reasons. One, we have quit listening to one another; and Two, those who engage in it really have nothing to say.

(If a single sentence could ever instantly induce writer’s block, I have just written it.)

So where do I go now? . . . no pressure . . .

Was I going to sound off on Dick Durbin and the Democrats again? No, I was going to give the politics a rest this time——though their rhetoric does make my point perfectly, doesn't it? I was going to lead nicely into something Natalie Portman said, I just can’t remember exactly how I was going to do that.

Random thought: I have an audiobook sitting on my desk. The title is, How To Get Your Point across in 30 Second-or Less. Ironically, it runs just over 44 minutes. I know, I know. Quit stalling.

So anyway, Natalie Portman took the stage in Philly wearing a black t-shirt that made her look shapeless and malnourished. Her head was shaved, and I wondered if she was in the process of filming a Sinéad O'Connor biopic.

Despite being an actress whom I regard as genuinely talented and wonderfully attractive (at least most of the time), I have to say she looked like a gawky teenager, fidgeting and pretzeling her frail arms as she spoke to a disinterested crowd. “Making poverty history is within our grasp,” she said, and I cringed. Huh-oh, here we go again, I thought, remembering a matronly Joan Baez at Live Aid who said with ebullient congratulations, “This is your Woodstock.”

While on the surface the two statements may appear to be incongruous, they both, in fact, speak to an absolute vacancy of understanding of the relationship between cause and effect.

The arrogance of Joan Baez, assuming that the generation to which she was speaking wanted their own Woodstock, was incredibly vain. In fact, when that generation——I hesitate to say my generation——did get its own Woodstock a few years later, it was marked by sexual assaults, widespread violence, and wholesale vandalism. Who would have ever thought something so detestable could ever come from something as beautiful as orgies in the mud and acid trips?

So, too, did the War on Poverty (Johnson’s other war) yield grim results. Battling poverty became an industry, one that lost money, while increasing both the numbers and percentages of those living below the poverty line. But the worst casualty in the War on Poverty was on the family. The African-American family, in particular, was all but abolished.

So what will America’s next theatre in the War on Poverty be? Well, if Bob Geldof has anything to say about it, it will be Africa.

Let me say expressly that I do understand the situation in Africa is dire and one deserving of immediate attention. Bono and Bob Geldof do deserve credit for bringing awareness to that. But I have to draw a hard line before commending them (or anyone) for their intentions. Intentions divorced from effect can cause disaster, and compassion can be tragic.

Beneath all the hyperbole and pontificating lies something almost insidious. It is a kind of benevolent, or rather patronizing, racism. George W. Bush has called it “the soft bigotry of low expectations.” To be clear, the president was referring to African-Americans in the inner cities, though there is a peculiar parentage to be noted.

I do not mean to suggest anything malevolent has been intended. But remember, it is the outcome we are concerned with, not the intentions.

Take Elton John, for instance. He reportedly pitched a hissy fit when Bob Geldof invited Pope Benedict XVI to participate in the event. Why did Elton flare out? I have my theories, but supposedly it was because of the Catholic Church’s opposition to condom distribution.

Elton, and others like him (Sinéad O'Connor, perhaps), actually blame the Pope for the spread of AIDS in Africa. There is so much wrong with this premise it’s hard to know where to start debunking it.

If you give your average man a condom and tell him it is 98 percent effective, he will probably use it. If you give that same man another condom and point him in the direction of a woman who he knows to be 100 percent HIV positive, he will probably not use it. Why?

We are dealing with compound ignorance. When you add the relative security a condom provides to the relative security that ignorance provides, you will likely yield a “positive” outcome. But if you take away that false sense of security, you also take away the propensity to make a destructive decision.

The notion that condoms will stop the spread of AIDS in Africa (or anywhere else, for that matter) is simply false. Or, to coin a phrase, it is a phallicy.

I remember a few years ago when an African bishop was being criticized for his opposition to condom distribution. He defended his Church, and in doing so, defended his flock, angrily saying, “These people don’t need condoms, they need the Gospel!”

I was taken aback. The bishop said Gospel, but I heard dignity. I had never seen my attitude toward the impoverished of that continent as bigoted, but that is what it was. AIDS was ravaging the continent as rats were running over the poorest parts of India, and those with AIDS were being regarded no differently than rats.

Offensive? I thought so. Every underlying assumption I had unwittingly accepted was based on a premise that these people were somehow more in need of pity than dignity, more deserving of charity than love.

Interestingly, a recent report showed the infection rates in Uganda were cut by nearly 70 percent over ten years when abstinence was encouraged and sexuality was taught to be within the confines of a dignified marriage. The twenty preceding years of condom distribution changed nothing.

Now that the G-8 leaders have pledged to focus on the needs of Africa, I hope their focus will be on the dignity of the people and not the self-congratulations that brought us there.

Location, Location, Location

2005-07-01T13:29:00.000-05:00

Those of you who read my blog frequently know that I am all about consensus, comity, and equanimity. But those of you who read my blog because you enjoy my wry, understated sense of humor might be a little disappointed——because that little gem there is all you’re gonna get.

I am so hopping mad at David Souter I can barely speak.

Now I do realize being mad at David Souter is a little like losing your temper with Mister Rodgers. But it ain’t such a wonderful day in the neighborhood, not in New London, Connecticut, or anywhere else in the country, for that matter, thanks to the Supreme Court. It is interesting how Mister Souter has suddenly become the poster boy of what is wrong with the judicial system. Those of you who thought that was just a hysterical rant of the far-Right or a disingenuous ploy to cover some diabolical plan to unfairly manipulate the court system had better wake up.

Recently, a friend asked me who the intended audience was for my blog. I responded by saying, “The people I most want to read my blog are those least likely to read it.” (Is it vain to quote myself? “Probably,” I say.) Nevertheless, allow me a brief digression. Danny from Houston criticized my last posting for being somewhat “confusing.” I was not at all put off by his criticism since I mostly agreed (though I would have used the word “unfocused”). Rather, I was flattered at how he quoted me back to me. “And that point would be . . . ?”

This time, I trust my point is clear. I am, of course, talking about Kelo v. New London and how that ruling accentuates the need for sound jurists. If you have not heard of the case, I will refrain from berating you in hopes that you will listen to what I have to say, though I do have to admit, you have already provoked me. (Give me a minute. Let me count to ten . . . . . . . . . . I’m okay now.)

Simply put, the case involves a woman who lives in a small, economically depressed Connecticut town. (I know, hard to believe there is such a thing in Connecticut.) Private developers sought to remake the area, “and would have gotten away with it too (to use a little Scooby Doo parlance) if it weren't for that darn Susette Kelo.” Susette Kelo, along with six other families, some of whom have lived in the neighborhood for generations, going back more than a century, were being forced out of their homes.

Eminent domain refers to government’s right to appropriate private property-—after offering just compensation—-for public use. The key term, “public use,” has generally been understood to mean roads, railways, utilities and such. But this case involved a private developer, and eminent domain should have had no bearing whatsoever.

Yet the New London Development Corporation, a private entity controlled by the city (or perhaps vice versa), argued that if hotels could be built in the location of these people’s homes, the development would generate greater tax revenue that could certainly be used for the “public use.”

Voilà. Five members on the High Court bought into the argument and sold out the Fifth Amendment to the Constitution.

This ruling reveals a great deal about our current philosophical priorities. It is a ruling that says there is no higher value than money in the hands of our government. Not our Constitution or laws. Not the freedoms on which this nation was founded that allowed for private ownership. And certainly not a Creator who endowed us with “certain inalienable rights” from whence we derive our very freedom. No, I’m not even going to acknowledge the confused, twisted, and conflicting rulings regarding the Ten Commandments.

It is ironic that I started out facetiously talking about comity and consensus because there is, in fact, a great deal of consensus that the Kelo verdict is an aberration. Painful as it has been, I have sought out liberals and Democrats (assuming there is a difference), conservatives and Republicans (assuming there is none), seeking their opinions, looking for just one person, not even one rational person, just one mildly coherent person who agreed with the Court’s ruling. I have found no one.

Indeed, when Tom Delay and members of the Congressional Black Caucus are urgently working to pass the same bill, something is seriously wrong. When the ACLU and Bill O’Reilly are in total agreement, our nation must be in crisis.

While I have had no ambivalence about this case, I must admit to finding myself tremendously conflicted. With righteous anger and without apology, I side with the little guy, those residents of this working class neighborhood, against the corporate interests, the developers, and those who were able to manipulate government for their own gain. And with shock and horror, I wonder privately, Is this what it feels like to be a Democrat-—at least what a Democrat used to be?

When it comes to understanding the proper role of government, perhaps no two American leaders have been more dissimilar than Bill Clinton and Ronald Reagan (who used to be a Democrat). Where Clinton sought to inspire, frequently talking about the role government could play and the profound power it had to do good, Reagan railed against intrusive government, steering away from temptation, and warning of the profound harm government could do. In light of the Kelo decision, those who were inclined to challenge Reagan then champion Clinton really have reason to take pause.

I do not generally think it is helpful to assign blame, except for when it is necessary to correct a problem or avoid making the same mistake in the future. That being said, in the case of Supreme Court’s ruling in Kelo v. New London, the Democrats are totally to blame.

This just in . . . Sandra Day O’Connor has decided to retire.

Because much attention will be focused on the Court for the next several weeks, probably months if more retirements soon follow, I do not wish to elaborate on the implications of O’Connor’s retirement. Rather, I will to keep my focus (out of respect for Danny in Houston) and finish what I started. That being said, the timing of Justice O’Connor’s announcement is interesting.

Nominated by President Reagan, Justice O’Connor has generally been perceived to be a more moderate swing vote. Yet, she wrote the dissent (which is to say minority opinion) in the Kelo case and was joined by the three most vilified members of the Court: Thomas, Scalia, and Rehnquist, nominated by Bush, Reagan, and Nixon, respectively.

The fact that these four justices offered the only sound opinion in the Kelo case really underscores the need to have strict constructionalists, or originalists on the bench. Indeed, the job of a jurist is to interpret the law by examining the original intent of the framers of the Constitution or that of subsequent lawmakers. One’s personal convictions or beliefs are of no relevance. To go back to a previous theme, that is not an opinion, but a fact, and one that must not be ignored.

I urge those predisposed to oppose all that comes from these justices, or from the presidents who nominated them, to take pause. After all, did I not just admit to a momentary empathy toward Democrats?

It might now be worth noting how the majority justices in the Kelo decision got on the court. Breyer and Ginsburg were Clinton appointees, and being such, were never expected to be originalists, wrong as that may be. Yet, the 44 Republicans in the Senate acquiesced toward confirmation.

Justice Anthony Kennedy was the product of compromise. After the Democrats killed the Bork nomination—-Bork being an originalist committed to conserving the integrity of our laws, not trying to liberate us from them—-Kennedy was the best Reagan could do against 55 Democrats.

As for John Paul Stevens being a Ford nominee, I offer the following. When Wayon Smithers reminded Mr. Burns that Homer Simpson had been hired as a part of “Project Bootstraps,” Mr. Burns sarcastically moaned, “Thank you, President Ford.” My sentiments exactly.

But David Souter is perhaps the most interesting. Not only because of the attorney who is now petitioning Weare, New Hampshire to be able to build the Lost Liberty Hotel on what is currently Mister Souter’s home, but because Souter was a “clean slate” nominee of the first President Bush.

I, in my relative youth and naiveté, remember being perplexed at the time at how Democrats were calling him a “stealth” nominee, accusing President Bush of trying to slide past some archconservative who they could not oppose without a paper trail. Souter, to conservatives, proved himself a traitor. To liberals, he was not liberal enough. In fact, neither Ted Kennedy nor John Kerry voted for Souter’s confirmation. While it is impossible to follow their logic, their motivation was awfully clear.

Obviously, no matter who President Bush nominates, the Democrats will oppose, demagogue, and try to defeat. To have either of the senators from Massachusetts lecturing the president on how to consult with the Senate regarding judicial nominees is completely disingenuous and ought to be seen as such. As stupid as Democrats consider Bush to be, they hate him for not being as stupid as they need him to be.

It is my expectation that Bush will nominate justices like Scalia and Thomas who will respect the difference between the Judicial and Legislative branches and will uphold the Constitution and the freedoms enshrined therein.

May there be a pox (or better yet, a hotel) on the house of any who would oppose such nominees.

Wacko Jacko, Dumbo Durbin, and the “Amazing” Katie Holmes

2005-06-22T21:33:00.000-05:00

A few years ago I was selected for jury duty. The accused was on trial for robbing a bank. In order to establish the perpetrator’s modus operandi, the prosecutor was able to introduce a previous criminal record. The accused had robbed a bank—the same bank—five times before, most recently just ten months prior to the jury I sat on having the pleasure of his company.

With overwhelming evidence of his guilt, our only question was how this guy was free to rob banks when his fifth offense had not even earned him a full year in the hoosegow. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me six times, and I have to wonder what the hell is going on? The way we looked at it was even if we were wrong, perhaps more so if we were wrong, justice would be being served. Obviously, we convicted.

As rarely as I’ve been posting my blogs, I cringe at the thought of even mentioning Michael Jackson in one. But waiting for the verdict, I will admit to hoping that maybe someone who had served jury duty with me in Atlanta might now be living in Santa Barbara. But apparently not.

Yeah, Wacko Jacko is almost certainly a pedophile, and one who was probably targeted by grifters. Yeah, he probably should have been locked away years ago, before being outed by Martin Bashir or perpetrating the sham of his marriage to Lisa Marie Presley—not that sham marriages are a crime. If they were, Tom Cruise would be marching to his own gulag. But I’ll have to get back to that.

The underlying question is, Can we incarcerate someone for what they want to do? Not when we can barely incarcerate people for what they do do.

There is something essentially American about being acquitted, especially if the accused is actually guilty. It affirms a belief that our nation of laws is stronger than any crime that can be committed against her or her people. It is the ability to manipulate the legal system that may be our second greatest exercise of freedom.

Our first, clearly, is the freedom of speech. And as the Democratic party currently exemplifies, there need not be any merit or logic or point to it, just a counterpoint. How else can we make sense of anything Howard Dean says? Or, more pointedly, how to comprehend Dick Durbin’s rationale in likening our troops to the Soviet gulags or Pol Pot?

Perhaps there is need for a debate about Guantanamo Bay. There are some unique and unconventional issues presented in this unconventional war. There is a real question about what to do with terrorists captured before they commit their atrocities. (I emphasize “before” since that would seem to be the preferred time to capture terrorists.) But what do we do with them after we have caught them?

We’re getting no help from the Democrats answering any these question. They only make calls for investigations, hoping to proffer the image of scandal that can used to persuade those who show only marginal interest in the future of our country or their role in our form of self-government. Theirs is not a search for solutions, but an exploitation of the ignorant.

Consider the reaction to Durbin’s comments. Now that he has finally seen it necessary to offer “heartfelt apologies,” I would hope we can all agree that what he said was clearly wrong. Though listening to Durbin’s choice of words, it is difficult to conclude that he thinks what he said was wrong.

Now consider Michael Jackson. Just because he was acquitted in a particular instance does not mean he is not guilty of the same crime in, I shutter to think, countless other instances. Is there any reason to believe that Wacko Jacko now thinks it is wrong to share a bed with a child? Is there any reason to believe that Dumbo Durbin does not still suspect our soldiers are committing atrocities in Guantanamo Bay?

It is interesting to note that in the week that followed, not one Democrat was willing to publicly renounce Durbin’s comments. The strongest objection came from Nancy Pelosi, who only characterized them as “not helpful.” My point exactly. In fact, I heard one person defend the comments, not as valid, but as necessary “to get the point across.”

And that point would be . . . ?

To be fair, I can see how there could be reasonable concern for innocent people who may have been captured alongside the terrorists. True, we have discharged several detainees from the detention camp, and it is, therefore, reasonable to assume they were innocent. (At least let’s hope so.) To acknowledge that fact is also to acknowledge the fact that these “cases” have been adjudicated. Still the likes of Durbin and Biden insist on making these detainees an issue.

How is it that Democrats believe that Mohamed Atta deserves an up-or-down vote, but John Bolton does not?

For those who do not remember, Mohamed Atta was the so-called “20th hijacker,” now being detained down in Guantanamo Bay. Gitmo, as it is informally known, ought to serve as a nice little reminder of the reason we’re at war, if not some small symbol of progress we are making in the war. Instead it has become a rallying point for a Loony Left so consumed with hatred for President Bush that they are willing to provide aid and comfort to the enemy in order to gain political advantage.

If that sounds overstated, I can find no other way to understand the calls to close the prison down. It would naturally follow that the prisoners would either be released, or they would have to be taken to another detention center. And would that detention center not draw the same kind of attacks being lodged at Gitmo? Of course it would, probably by the same people objecting to the existence of Gitmo.

So what’s the solution? Why Katie Holmes, of course.

Christian prison ministries have been quite effective in counseling good old-fashioned American criminals, helping them to transform their lives to the point where they can be released back into society with a greatly reduced rate of recidivism. It is doubtful that this would work with the Muslim extremists, and even more doubtful that the ACLU would permit such a thing.

So how about Scientology? That’s not technically a religion, is it? So no “separation” issues there. Look what it’s done for Tom Cruise. How else could a short, middle-aged man, widely rumored to be gay, land a tall, beautiful up-and-comer? Got to be the Scientology! I hear Katie’s converting. And unless Michael Jackson converted back to being a Jehovah’s Witness, I believe he still is a Scientologist. Maybe Neverland (after California passes a referendum prohibiting children from going there) could be converted to a Scientology/prison camp.

But seriously, I don’t know what I found most offensive. Tom and Katie's public displays of affection? The fact that they actually think they’re fooling anyone? Or the fact that they feel the need to try?

How can a guy who gets $25 million per movie be such a bad actor? When the only word Tom could use to describe Katie was “amazing [breath] amazing [pause then breath] amazing [smile]” we were to understand that he was love struck and at a loss for words. But what struck me was the reason he was at a loss for words was probably because he hardly knew her. Then again, to borrow a line from Cary Grant in The Philadelphia Story, “To hardly know her is to know her well."

Similarly, to hardly know what a Democrat stands for is to know a Democrat well.

An Opinionated Appendix

2005-06-22T20:58:00.000-05:00

Warning: Boring blog ahead. Proceed at your own risk.

This entry should not be held to my usual standard.

It became apparent in the comment section of my last blog that my friend Carlos needed a little extra tutoring as to how to tell the difference between a fact and an opinion. He asserted that FoxNews (the network that Howard Dean called “a propaganda outlet of the Republican Party’) dealt in out right lies.

I, in turn, offered to blast any such lie and any lying liar who would tell an outright lie. All he had to do was point out one. He linked, rather uncreatively, to a propaganda tool of the Democratic Party that made 15 such assertions.

As the old saying goes, “Never wrestle with a pig. You’ll only get mud on you, and the pig will enjoy himself.” To clarify, I, in no way, mean to imply that my friend Carlos is a pig. Au contraire. My intent has been to raise the level of debate, remove the mudslinging, and focus gently and persistently on facts that will yield informed opinions. Those who are sincere and genuine at heart will receive them.

For the record, I find shows like “Hannity and Colmes” and “Crossfire” to be frustrating. There is no patient or prudent exchange of ideas, just recitation of disingenuous and worn talking points and vociferous opinions. I published one blog that I believe sank to that depth, and I was scolded and subsequently apologized for it, vowing never to do it again. However, I fear I have let Carlos (who, again to clarify, is not a pig) lure me back into the mud.

(A point of order. For simplicity sake, I will not reprint the whole of the original comments, just the headings and an apt response. Refer back to the comment section of the previous posting, if you must.)

1. WMD

The Democrats, after a confused, confusing, and ambivalent position on the war, thought they found their political smoking gun when there were no weapons uncovered after the invasion. They branded Bush a liar, repeated it in insane fits of rage, and then got thumped in another election. The question was, Where did he hide them? After not having found them, the question remains (or at least ought to), What did he do with them? If Saddam didn’t have weapons of mass destruction, with what did he kill masses of people? Spit balls?

For anyone who wants to keep score: 0 for 1.

2. Colin Powell on Iraq

Newsflash: We’re at war. First off, “Couldn’t have been better” would clearly be an opinion and one that would not be mutually exclusive with the honest assessment Colin Powell gave of the war. It is to the advantage of the enemy (by that I mean the insurgents, the terrorists, and Al Qaeda) that the perception be worse than the reality. Sadly, the Democrats also felt they would benefit if the perception were worse than reality. (Score: 0 for 2)

3. Saddam/Al-Qaeda Connection

To quote Donald Runsfeld quoting Yogi Berra, “There are unknowns we know and unknowns we don’t know.” (I paraphrased, but it’s close enough.) David Kay offered his opinion. There were others to the contrary. If Al Qaeda was not smart enough to utilize a country like Iraq as a base with resources in their war against America, Al Qaeda would be more inept than the Democratic Party.

4. 9/11 Investigation

Nonsense. Bush initially opposed the 9/11 commission because he knew it would be little more than a politically motivated dog-and-pony show. The Dems were just angry at Bush for not being stupid enough to fall into an obvious political trap. I could just say that this is Hannity’s opinion, not a “false fact” and leave it at that, so I will. (Score: 0 for 3)

5. The Recession

Defining when a recession begins is hardly an exact science. To say that Bush is responsible because the “beginning” was two months after he entered office is to completely ignore the issue of cause. What caused the recession? Were it possible that a recession could come about through sheer hatred of a person (George W. Bush, in this case), then I could see how a Democrat might actually hold this view. But being that that is not possible, such a view is completely disingenuous and without merit. (Score: 0 for 5)

6. The Hispanic Vote

As divided as this nation was before the 2000 election, many honestly believed that George W. Bush was the man to heal the riff. Looking at how he had been received by Democrats in Texas, this was a reasonable expectation. But given the hatred concentrated on him since elected, I could see how his support among traditionally Democratic groups, like Hispanics, might wane.

I’m not sure about the source. When I put NCLR in Google I got the National Center for Lesbian Rights. Out of deference to the lesbians, I will not dispute what may well be fuzzy math. True, Bush only doubled his support, not quadrupled. Hannity was sloppy with his math. (Score: Uno por Seis)

7. White House Vandalism

Clearly a case of he-said, she-said. Were Hannity the only one to report the vandalism, I might take pause. But the story appeared in virtually every major news outlet. Usually accompanying the story was always a mention of how Bush did not want to start his term out wrestling with a bunch of pigs, still hoping to be a “united, not a divider.” As for the FAIR source giving the contrary point, Google yielded the “Federation for American Immigration Reform.”

But seriously, I did find the intended FAIR source, which is clearly another euphemistic website devoted to trying to paint George W. Bush as a liar. Whatever. This was such a lame attempt, I’m taking away the point awarded last round. (Score: 0 for 7)

8. Patriotism

Sean Hannity once said, "I never questioned anyone's patriotism." This one is my favorite! Clearly taken out of any context, this would mean any time Hannity deservedly questioned someone’s patriotism, he would automatically become a liar. Huh?

The “factual” enumeration are a who’s who of unpatriotic degenerates. For the record, anyone who thinks a duly elected US president, accused of no crime, should be thrown out of office while Saddam Hussein remain in power would not be a patriot. If that’s not unpatriotic, what is?

Here like no other place we see the soulless soul of the Democratic party that believes nothing is wrong except saying that something is wrong. (Score 0 for 8)

9. Separation of Church and State

I may have spoken too soon. This could be my favorite.

Clearly Hannity was referring to the specific phrase “separation of Church and State,” which does not appear in the Constitution, but in a letter written by Thomas Jefferson. The phrase, as well as Jefferson’s intent, is frequently misapplied.

The citing of the First Amendment as validation of this disingenuous separation is also hollow, but does underscore the need for strict constructionist, or originalist, judges on the bench. The First Amendment guarantees freedom of religion, not freedom from religion. It was clearly designed to protect religious freedom from the kind of oppression they saw in the Church of England, which mandated religious practice.

Make no mistake about it. This whole of this issue is a thinly veiled attempt by atheists who want to abolish religion and think they can twist the First Amendment to that end. Ain’t gonna happen. (Score: 0 for 9)

10. James Madison

The only factual statement Hannity made was in regard to who hired the first chaplain. So they were hired by a committee. Without doing a lot of research, it would seem likely that Madison was either on or advised such committees, and therefore, would have had a hand in hiring them. I won’t play semantic games.

The real ire is over religion. (Reread my previous comment.) We’ve been hearing that this relationship between church and state is new. The citation affirms it is in the very foundation of our government, despite Madison’s reluctance in a quote that by no means depicts the totality of his view. (Score: 0 for 10)

11. Alabama Constitution

I don’t see a problem. Hannity said that the Alabama Constitution recognizes God. It does, As the reference acknowledged. Whatever else it may say is immaterial.. Make what you will of Judge Moore, but to assert that Hannity misreported something is simply not the case. (Score: 0 for 11)

12. Rent for Public Housing

Nonsense. Anybody who pays $25 a month in rent is living for free. True, that is only my opinion, but practically speaking, that is a great example of an opinion so universally held it may as well be considered fact. (Score: 0 for 12)

13. Kerry Tax Plan

If Kerry had ever made a coherent or consistent fact, maybe it could have been tested for veracity, which is what Hannity was attempting to do. Just because Kerry said one thing one time does not preclude (in fact it may assure) the fact that he said contrary at another time. I see nothing to suggest Hannity deliberately offered information he knew to be false. Offering information about a false candidate is inherently flawed. (Score 0 for 13)

14. Kerry and Weapons Systems

Anybody who’s ever honestly followed legislation knows the trick to voting and deceiving the casually observant. You vote against something unpopular (like Congressional pay raises) when you know it will pass. The truth was no sensible person was willing to trust or believe what Kerry was willing to say in defense of our nation.

They did not cite Slate as a source?! I ought to take away a point for that. But alas, I can’t. (Score: 0 for 14)

15. Kerry and the CIA

Clearly an opinion. Hannity did not misrepresent Kerry’s voting record, but responded to comments on other votes Kerry did make or nonsense Kerry spewed. Anybody remember the classic, “I voted for it before I voted against it”? At least Hannity is consistent.

Okay. So that’s it. Final score: 0 for 15. They made fifteen attempts to point out a lie, and only highlighted their inability to distinguish between fact and opinion.

What’s that? You want a recount? Okay. On the Hispanic vote tally, there does appear to be an irregularity. Upon further review, the votes cast for Kerry were found to be by illegal immigrants and should not count. You lose by a score of 0 to 15. Don’t like it? Sue me.

Thanks for playing!

Stubborn Facts, Immoveable Opinions, and Outright Lies

2005-05-31T20:25:00.000-05:00

I remember a lesson from when I was in the third grade that would serve us all well to examine now.

Sister Agnes gave us magazines, safety scissors, and instructions to cut out statements, labeling them as either facts or opinions. I recall focusing primarily on ads and whether the assertions therein could be proven, or if they were merely opinions.

Merely opinions? I can already hear some protest, objecting to the notion that an opinion might be subordinate to a fact. While a deeply held opinion essentially becomes a belief, beliefs (most people believe) ought never be held subjected to the scrutiny of facts. If this is a viewpoint you hold, keep your pants on long enough to humor me.

I will concede that there are some opinions so universally held they virtually become fact. Take for instance the assertion that Paris Hilton looks good eating a burger and washing a car while wearing a one-piece bikini. (Please overlook the oxymoron of a “one-piece bikini.”) Clearly, this would be an opinion, and not one I care to hold. For the record, I find Paris to be shamefully stupid, disgracefully vulgar and so desperately starved for attention that I would like to forget the fact that she exists. But that’s just my opinion.

Now consider the assertion that Paris Hilton looks better in a bikini than, say, Sister Agnes. While still clearly an opinion, I would urge you all to just concede that this opinion would be so universally held we ought to just consider it a fact. Or do you really wish to ponder what Sister Agnes may have looked like in a bikini?

The point is that there are some things that ought to be unthinkable. In fact, there once was a time when certain things were unthinkable.

Nowadays, news is sold like any other commodity. We select what we watch based not on the veracity or timeliness of the reporting, but for the opinions espoused that may be more in keeping with our own. This is a relatively new phenomenon, and one that will have to complete its cycle of metamorphosis. But it better do that soon.

The trust once put in Walter Cronkite, who told us “the way it was,” has been betrayed by the likes of Dan Rather and Bob Schieffer. There is no need to rerun “MemoGate,” but consider this quote from a recent Schieffer report:

“This is a radical, radical departure from our history and from our traditions, and it amounts to an assault on the judicial branch of government. It may prove to have the kind of long-term boomerang effect, damage on the institution of the Senate that thoughtful senators may come to regret.”

Any idea who said it or to what they may have been referring?

What if I told you that that opinion was offered by Kenneth Starr? Yes, indeed, it seemed like those opposing confirmation of President Bush’s judicial nominees had found an unlikely savior in none other than the Darth Vader of the Clinton years. It seemed too good to be true. The reasoned voice of the once “extreme right” was actually cautioning the Republican majority leader away from the so-called “nuclear option.”

Too good to be true, indeed. The report was false. In a very deliberate and calculated way, CBS lied. It was not a mistake.

While Kenneth Starr did utter the words above, he was speaking in reference to the practice of opposing judicial nominees for ideological reasons—not about changing the Senate rules to allow for a majority vote. CBS’s sleight of hand and creative editing juxtaposed the response they wanted with a question Starr did not answer. Starr has asked for the transcripts in order to set the record straight; CBS refuses to surrender them.

It is my opinion that this act not only further flattens CBS’s credibility, but is so dangerously dishonest that it borders on criminal. I would like to believe that that opinion would be so universally held that we might consider it fact, but sadly, I know that is probably not the case.

There are a frightening number of people who would distort, disassemble, and disregard the facts just so their opinions could prevail. There are people willing to throw over the very tenets of our self-government for their own self-interest. CBS News has proven itself time and time again to be one such traitor, and in doing so, has led spoiled and ignorant masses into accepting such tactics in place of legitimate discourse.

In regard to current state of affairs in the U.S. Senate, the facts are this. A simple majority has always been all that was required for confirmation. The president nominates federal judges. And George W. Bush was elected president. (That fact really roils ‘em.)

“Facts are stubborn things,” John Adams told us, “and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.” Incidentally, Kenneth Starr echoed Thomas Jefferson’s warning that a Court that overreached in its decisions would become a “despot branch” of government, thus the danger of selecting a court for ideological reasons.

If we, the people, do not distinguish between fact and opinion, and if we, in turn, accept construction of a court system that deals in opinions rather than facts, the third leg of our stool will fail and our freedom will fall.

Judges, until recently, were picked for their qualifications and temperance. They were to respect the confines of the law, and their rulings were expected to be unhindered by any personal opinions or policy preferences. Now, judges who do not promise to enforce an ideology that has no reflection to the will of the majority or laws that govern them are renounced as extremists. They are blocked from receiving the approval that is rightfully, if not dutifully, theirs. While this is all done in the name of fairness, of course, it is extremely dangerous.

I realize that while some agree with what I write, others will refuse to even engage in a debate that may result in them having to concede their argument. The heart wants what the hearts wants, and reason becomes an unwelcome intruder in the land of unbridled desire. I don’t know what is harder, changing minds or changing hearts. But I know something’s got to change.

The King, the Pope, and the Rope

2005-04-26T07:00:00.000-05:00

When I was in college and Bruce Springsteen was still near the peak of his popularity, I sat at the piano in the student center, working out my version of “Thunder Road.” Michelle Connelly came and stood next to the baby grand, leaning there and listening attentively. “You know that line ‘You ain't a beauty, but hey you're alright’?” she asked, and I nodded. “That line’s about me.”

I made a quizzical expression, then shook my head dismissively and kept playing. She knew the guys in my fraternity had been calling her Michelle from Hell, and I suspected she heard that I had taken up for her. I thought about taking another line from Bruce’s song, “Well now I'm no hero; That's understood,” but I opted to say nothing instead.

I supposed that was how she came to regard me as her friend.

Oblivious to the fact that she had dropped out of school and moved back home, I was at a loss for words when I got a phone call in the middle of the night a couple of years later.

“Bruce says hi,” said Michelle.

Groggy, as I tried to place her voice among those of the friends I had made over the years, I just said, “Huh?”

“Bruce Springsteen. He says hello,” she followed and began to explain how she would see him periodically in the gym where she worked out now that she was home again in New Jersey. “I said, ‘I know this guy, Dan, who’s the sweetest guy in the world, and he’s your biggest fan.’ He just kind of laughed, but I told him all about you.”

“You’re kidding?” I said, wondering why she had suddenly felt the need to tell me all of this at one o’clock in the morning.

“No. Now whenever he sees me, he just kind of waves and says, ‘How’s Dan doing?’”

I supposed that was how Bruce came to regard me as a friend.

Over the years, I have defended my friend. When he left his wife, I defended him. Bruce had done what the world says rocks stars do, which is to marry blond models. But that didn’t work out so well. He should have done what God would have had him do, which, he eventually figured out, was to marry Patti. His struggle (along with his infidelity) became very public, thanks to Tunnel of Love (which is my favorite album) and the tabloid press.

As I write this, I can’t help but draw parallels with Prince Charles. He married Diana because the world (more precisely, the queen mum) said he needed to reproduce with a given pedigree, which makes the British line of succession sound more like a kennel club. (And the British tabloids were calling Camilla a dog?!) In any event, his recent consummation of his infidelity may have been, in a very backwards way, his way of finally doing what God wanted. You might say the sins of the father (Henry VIII) became the sins of the son.

It was ironic how Prince Charles delayed his wedding to attend the Pope’s funeral. Perhaps he could pay Benedict XVI a visit, tell him that he finally figured it all out, and see about annulling his marriage to Diana. Then maybe he could reunite the Church of England with the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church. Fat chance, I know, but the Church of England is in worse shape than K-Mart, and they’re ripe for a take-over.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, defending Bruce.

I defended Bruce when he decided to have a family before marrying Patti. Perhaps a bit of iconoclastic rebellion was necessary for him to cope with the disillusion divorce causes.

I defended him when ticket prices continued to rise. I paid $17.50 for my first ticket and $75 for my last, not counting the airfare. McCartney’s tickets, by comparison, are going for $252 per seat, not counting the TicketMaster fee, which I’m sure Paul is getting a percentage of.

I defended Bruce when he outraged the New York police with “American Skin (41 Shots),”his recounting of the Amadou Diallo killing. It was entirely possible he was sympathetic. Even good cops are driven by fear, and fear can certainly be deadly. This is the price we pay for living in a fallen world.

But when Bruce broke his political silence to support John Kerry, I could not defend him. In fact, I felt betrayed. This was not about honest disagreement; this was about demagoguery. He supported Kerry because he saw “an opportunity to have someone in the White House who had a heart.”

So Bush has no heart? Well, with all my heart I supported Bush. Does Bruce think I have no heart?

What’s that quote about not having a heart if you’re young and not a liberal? Or not having a brain if you’re old and not a conservative? Well I’m 20 years younger than Springsteen, and I grew a brain without losing my heart. Yet even with my burgeoning brain, I cannot understand why some ascribe nefarious intent whenever rational thought seems to trump emotion.

In support of his new album, Bruce appeared on VH1’s Storytellers last Saturday night. I watched, naively hoping he had realized how divisive and hurtful his campaign rhetoric had been. After all, a rational person would realize that as many as half his fans voted for Bush.

Right off the bat, it was clear nothing had changed. He asked who we could trust, implying that George W. Bush (who he did not call by name, only referring to the president with a contemptuous “him”) was lying and was pitted against “us.” I suspect not everyone once in Bruce's “us” has chosen to remain there.

Sarcastically, he supposed that “the Red Bank [NJ] Al Qaeda cell [was] in a deep sleep.” This was awfully brazen language coming from the favorite son of the New Jersey county that lost more people in the 9/11 attacks than any other. They were his neighbors and his friends. Does he think the threat is not real? Does he think the US cells we have busted are part of a propaganda war? The fact is, he doesn’t have to be accountable for any of his cynicism. The only integrity of thought he upholds seems to be the belief that Republicans are the enemy.

The boogey man Springsteen fears is not the specter of terrorism, it is what he deemed “the erosion of our civil liberties.” One of his new songs asks, “What if what you do to survive kills the things you love.” He explained, paraphrasing, “What if what you do to stay alive destroys some part of you?”

I believe we accept the loss and mourn it while strengthening the body as a whole. I also believe it is better to live life a cripple than to die with two good feet. (Mark 9:45—I paraphrased.) Yes, all war is civil war. And if we are all truly one body, there are times when some must die so we may all have life. Is that not what Christ did?

I thought Bruce understood that. I thought when he wrote about the heroes who went “Into the Fire” of the World Trade Center, he understood the concept of sacrificial loss. The men and women dying trying to capture or kill Al Qaeda, be it in Afghanistan, Baghdad, Buffalo or Red Bank, are no different than those who died trying to save the lives of others on September 11, 2001. How about a song for them, Bruce?

Over the past 20 years, I’ve flown, driven and run to Springsteen concerts in Red states and Blue states alike. I’ve lost a job, missed a wedding, served 80 hours of high school detention, and ran out of a retreat to be able to see the Boss. I’ve slept on the sidewalk for tickets—or for albums when the stores would sell them at midnight. And I defended him, even when I didn’t agree with what he’d done. But today he releases a new album, and I don’t want to hear it.

I remember Bruce’s last fall from grace, a fall that wasn’t so fatal. With a little self-deprecating humor, he took assessment of the impact he had had on people’s lives.

“Well I learned my job I learned it well
Fit myself with religion and a story to tell
First they made me the king then they made me pope
Then they brought the rope.”

I can honestly say, I hear you, Bruce. I hear you.

And who knows, if I could figure out how to get my blog to Michelle from Hell, maybe Bruce will finally hear me!

Habemus Blogam

2005-04-19T22:59:00.000-05:00

Translation: “We have a blog!” for you non-Catholics out there!

So I would be lying if I said the reason I haven’t written in three months is because there was really nothing to write about. (I know, I know. I can’t believe it’s been three months either. Mea culpa, mea culpa.)

The truth is I was getting all geared up to do a blog on why I wasn’t writing. (“Geared up” is literary jargon for not actually writing, but thinking about it.) I had a title, though. “The Calling, the Stalling, and the One-Eyed Cat.” But that looks like that’s going to have to wait, because . . .

We have a pope!

I will admit, I was a wee bit worried about who would become the next pope. Now that the college of cardinals (or rather the Holy Spirit) has chosen (and chosen wisely), I have to confess that I feel a tad bit foolish for fretting. (I know, I know. Me of little faith.) And while I’m in the business of confessing, I may as well confess the schadenfreude I’ve been reveling in since I heard of the announcement of the German hardliner who is now pope.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud to be an American, but I do have to chuckle at how stupid my fellow countrymen can be—and how that stupidity has led to grand disappointment at this grand time. The coverage of all things papal has been remarkably positive, yes. But the myopic zeal with which the events have sometimes been relayed by the networks has been nothing short of comical.

Will the new pope be American? Will he ordain women? Recognize gay “marriage”? Permit divorce? Birth control? And with the appearance of Pope Benedict XVI at the balcony came a resounding, “No!” And there was much rejoicing. There was also some wailing and gnashing of teeth, and maybe a little bit of schadenfreude.

If nothing else, the events we have all witnessed over the past couple of weeks offer yet another lesson in absolute truth, a concept we in America really seem to struggle with. We have a Constitution, something of a bedrock to our way of thinking. Or a “living document” to the liberals among us who, obviously, are not so good at thinking. But I digress.

If we wish to change the Constitution, we can amend it, and, in a way, redefine what we call truth. If that is too burdensome, we can go to the courts and just have them do it for us. We just need to elect people who have our worldview and hold that in higher regard than they do the concept of foundational truth.

So if that can be accomplished in the most powerful nation in the history of Earth, why not within the Catholic Church? Because construction of buildings or of logic will fail without a solid foundation.

What I’m about to say may sound treasonous to some, but this country will eventually collapse. History has proven that. We can only chose the rate at which we wish to see that happen. The Church, on the other hand, has the guarantee from God that “the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it (Matt. 16:18).” Did you really think it was just dumb luck the Church (as an institution) has been around for over 2,000 years?

But perhaps I should not veer off into matters of what IS when we were busy indulging matters of what we want. Sorry. Now where was I? Oh yeah. Amending the Word of God.

Think of when the Pharisees approached Jesus and asked about divorce, citing how “Moses permitted [man] to write a bill of divorce and dismiss her.” (Interesting legalese, isn’t it?) But Jesus replied, “Because of the hardness of your hearts he wrote you this commandment (Mark10:5).”

Now I don’t know if we have hard hearts or thick heads, but notice how Jesus disapproved of Moses’ amending of their constitution. It wasn’t working. So Jesus did not qualify or accommodate, but rather offered truth and options. Fidelity or adultery?

When we don’t like what we hear, we Americans start to get . . . pissy. (My apologies, but it really is the right word.) We threaten to leave the Church out of protest, willing to cut off our souls to spite the Church that would save them. We go join another church, until we find another teaching untenable, then we leave again.

Like America, itself, we ought to recognize from whence we came. Benedict XVI, like John Paul II before him or Peter the Apostle before him, was called by Christ to head the Church that He founded 2,000 years ago.

To watch the ceremonies and have Wolfe Blitzer or Shepard Smith or Chris Matthews wax elegantly about how we are witnessing history is comical when everything else about their commentary reveals the vacancy in their knowledge of history. Okay, maybe vacancy is a little harsh. Let me say their inability to contextualize the little bit of history they must know.

The funeral of John Paul II likely attracted the largest television audience ever. (See what I mean by history? TV’s been around for, what, 50 years?) Nevertheless, with no disrespect to Live Aid, Super Bowl XX-whatever, or the last episode of M*A*S*H, I believe the largest television audience prior to the papal funeral was the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana.

Time for a little historical context.

The Church of England was created when Pope Clement VII refused to grant King Henry VIII a divorce. (Actually, the proper way to phrase it would be the pope had no power to separate what God had joined.) Henry VIII, in defiance, left the Church, created his own, and put himself at the head, passing whatever authority there was down to Prince Charles—if only he had proven himself worthy.

I found it painfully ironic and embarrassingly sad to watch Prince Charles’ second wedding happening in the midst of the glorious traditions of the papacy being past on. I had to wonder why he would even want it televised. Someone contended that he could not have kept the media away if he tried. I beg to differ. If Britney Spears was able to keep both of her weddings out of the camera’s lens, I would think the man who would have been king could have pulled a few strings.

Now I mean to apologize to anyone who has found my comments on divorce to be callous or insensitive. That is really not my intent. I do realize that many good people have suffered, sometimes through no fault of their own, sometimes through bad judgment, and sometimes in naïve confusion. Whatever the case, I hope we never lose sight of God’s will because that loss will only bring more pain.

Of all that has been said about Pope John Paul II—about his role in ending communism, how he truly globalized the Church, his unification of God’s people, or his relentless championing of the dignity of the human person and the culture of life—comparatively little has been said about his first and most beloved ministry.

Father Karol Wojtyla was the definitive family man. He counseled couples and wrote voluminously about the most intimate parts of marriage. He spoke lovingly of the unique and separate natures of man and woman, and he warned of the cultural assault on marriage and armed all who would hear it with the truth. It seemed he considered the institution of marriage no less sacred than even the papacy.

Both sad and triumphant was the feeling that struck me as I stood with a friend at an airport newsstand last week. There were six magazines prominently displayed. The three on the right (Time, Newsweek. and U.S. News and World Report) all had Pope John Paul on their covers. The three on the left (US, People, and Entertainment Weekly) all featured cover stories about celebrity divorces.

When it seems our world if floating blindly adrift, it is reaffirming to know that we at least have the option to ground oursleves on the Rock of St. Peter. With all the past couple of weeks has shown us, we’d have to be hard of heart or thick of head to want it any other way.

I thank God for John Paul II and Benedict XVI!

Stingy Americans, Desperate Supermodels, and the Blog of Virtues

2005-01-17T23:38:00.000-05:00

It was my intent to resume the discussion of political values, and I probably will weave around to that, but I feel compelled to start with the tsunami.

First off, I have to admit, I was a little surprised to learn that there was a “t” in front of the word. I also did not realize there was an “h” in Richtor, or that that word was capitalized. Incidentally, the scale goes up to 10, as opposed to five, as I always thought. (This tsunami was only a nine, by the way.) Revealing my ignorance is not so much false humility as it is an attempt to inspire some genuine humility in anyone who may privately share my ignorance. The virtue of humility will come in handy later.

Before I am accused of being insensitive, I would make the obligatory comments about how terribly sad it is, how lucky those who did not face the tragedy are, and how proud I am of our nation’s response to it——even while we are being called stingy and our president is being accused of being insensitive. (I may get back to Bush’s insensitivity later—then again, I may not.) I am, however, appalled to see how our news media is responding.

My disgust goes beyond the sensationalizing of people’s misery for the sake of other people’s entertainment that I have come to expect of broadcast media. While the tragedy and the death toll reach new highs, the 24-hour cable news media sinks to new lows. Within hours, CNN was profiling Petra Nemcova and her boyfriend.

What’s that? You don’t know who Petra Nemcova is? She was on the cover of 2003 Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. If that doesn’t clarify, she was on the cover of the 2003 Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. (She’s also a Victoria Secret supermodel.) The happy couple was vacationing Phuket, Thailand—thankfully, I only have to spell Phuket and not pronounce it—when the tsunami hit. As I watched, I could identify two emotions stirring within me. (Three, if you count lust.) 1) Bewilderment at how CNN could be so . . . (I never did come up with the right word), and 2) gratitude that it wasn’t Fox News breaking the story.

To explain my preference for Fox News, I will concede that Fox is to the right of CNN. But Fox News would not exist had CNN had not come to emulate Al-Jazeera as a model for objectivity. That said, Fox has better looking broadcasters, splashier graphics and several other subtle attributes that cause me to hang my head in embarrassment.

Where was I? Oh yeah. The swimsuit edition.

Now I’ve heard it reported, probably on CNN (or maybe it was Fox), that if man could pick the manner in which he were to die, dying in bed with a supermodel would be at the top of his list. Dying in a tsunami, I would think, would probably be near the bottom. We know that Petra was swept out the bedroom window of her bungalow and survived by hanging on to a tree while the waters rushed below her. But we do not know what exactly happened to her boyfriend, though it is unlikely he survived. I’m not sure if I should pity the lad or mourn him with a congratulatory tear.

In a very strange and sad way, this story, or rather the American perspective on it, reveals a great deal about our values. Why does the life of a supermodel command more electronic sympathy than the life of a peasant woman, an elderly man, or a regular model, for that matter? Perhaps profiling Petra is a way of satisfying the journalistic need to "put a face on the tragedy." And what a face it is.

I must admit, while writing this, my humor turned dark, much of it at the expense of Ms. Nemcova’s boyfriend. But while that humor would have brought a mischievous smile to the faces of those who like Helen Keller jokes, I feared it would only bring shock and appall to others. So I deleted much of it. I did want to be a little bit callous or cruel by belittling the suffering of a supermodel, but only to accentuate my point. I would never want to be insensitive to anyone, least of all Petra, especially since she’s apparently available.

Okay. This may seem like a rough segue, but bear with me.

I love Desperate Housewives!—not for the sex, which is gratuitous, but for the comedy, which is decidedly black, and the social commentary, which is sharply insightful. One character, Gabrielle, married for money and made no bones about it. Prior to being a childless housewife, she was, of course, a swimsuit model.

In an episode where her husband was jailed for financial crimes, creditors came to repossess their belongings. Gabrielle insisted that her prior earnings purchased some of what was being carted out the door. “I spent eight hours on a rock in a bikini for that painting!” she protested. (The painting, incidentally, was of the Madonna and Child.) Anyhow, that one line reveals a perverse set of American values.

Whether a bikinied supermodel marooned on a rock or another one stranded in a tree, the image for me is pretty much the same. Again, excuse my insensitivity. “That hardest part for Petra,” said her publicist, the latest CNN-created celebrity, “was watching [the children being swept away in the water] . . . because Petra loves children.”

Saying that you love children is like saying Curly is your favorite Stooge. Curly is everyone’s favorite Stooge, and everyone loves children. If you are a supermodel, however, actually having one could kill a career, not to mention what it would do to your sex life.

But what of the other victims of the tsunami?

President Bush, in the eyes of his critics, blundered by not getting on television and reassuring the world that America would stand with the suffering in Asia, something his press secretary dismissively likened to Clinton’s “feeling your pain.” What Bush did do was immediately engage the Pentagon to send resources to the region, ear-marking $35 million for the relief effort.

CNN, even though Secretary of State Colin Powell had said the day before that aid would soon reach into the billions, still reported the amount as a paltry sum indicative of a heartless administration. They then invited email responses from gullible and ignorant viewers. The Democrat leaders immediately joined in the criticism because they know that gullible and ignorant people vote.

Since last election’s exit polling overwhelmingly showed “values” to be the most important issue——and 80 percent of so-called values voters went for Bush——the Democrats are either going to paint Bush as a hypocrite (which has not been working) or figure out what values are for themselves. A Wall Street Journal/NBC News poll may give them a little help, not much though.

For Democrats, we see ensuring equal opportunity (37%), tolerance (27%), individuality (19%) as their core values. Republicans, on the other hand, value strengthening families (31%), strong faith (25%), and personal responsibility (21%). While Republican values, to borrow a term from the Founding Fathers, seem to be “self-evident,” what passes for Democrat values left me scratching my head.

Tolerance? In the words of G.K. Chesterton, “Tolerance is the virtue of the man without convictions.” Individuality? That sounds a whole lot like self-centeredness and intolerance at the suggestion that there may be consequence for those who abandon personal responsibility. And what exactly is the difference between equal opportunity and ensuring equal opportunity?

The modern Democrat party is one caught in self-interest and hedonism where God is dead and the so-called “tolerant” are going to have a hell of a time resurrecting Him when they realize they need Him. We are looking at a party that has repackaged socialism, hoping to pass it off as a conscience, where personal responsibility is compromised so that the not-so invisible hand of government can make up for what is lacking.

And speaking of lacking, I cannot let another post go by without quoting Bob Dylan. Matter of fact, I’ll do it twice to make up for last time. But before I do, let me first set the stage and maybe give a glimpse of what my next post will feature.

I spent much of last week down at the state capitol where I have been working as a lobbyist, which is why this post was a little delayed. My apologies. It was an historic week here in Georgia. The Republican party now controls the governorship, the state senate and the state house—the first time that has happened in 130 years.

When it came time to elect the new Speaker of the House, 18 of the 81 surviving Democrats voted for the Republican. Why? It may be that some are disillusioned Democrats who intend to change parties before having to run for re-election. There may also be some sore losers who can’t stand the thought of being in the minority, or, in the words of Bob Dylan, “just want to be on the side that’s winning.”

For every politician who switches parties, I have to think whole districts are changing as well. But while some politicians switch to survive, voters who traditionally side with the Democrats may need a different kind of incentive. The question may not be Why change? but rather, Why not change? And it seems the only thing stopping some is not logic, but a misplaced loyalty or even pride when what is needed is selflessness and humility.

Bonus Bob:

So here is a verse form my favorite Dylan song these days:

Well, there's fist fights in the kitchen
They're enough to make me cry
The mailman comes in
Even he's gotta take a side
Even the butler
He's got something to prove
Then you ask why I don't live here
Honey, how come you don't move?

The Art of Destruction, Newt Gingrich, and the Enemy Within

2004-12-14T01:47:00.000-05:00

I once heard Newt Gingrich describe the Democratic Party as the “most self-destructive institution mankind has ever created.” I laughed, regarding the remark as hyperbole and found it comical in its overstatement. But as I listened, standing in the back of the conventional hall where I worked, not yet part of the Grand Old Party the then future Speaker was addressing, I realized he was serious. And I wonder if he was right. Were the now former Speaker to voice the same analysis today, I supposed I would again laugh. But this time it would be with delight.

My first exposure to the political process was when I attended the Democratic National Convention in 1988. (I say with a Newt-sized portion of hyperbole, that is probably what made me a Republican.) The central facility for that Atlanta convention was the Omni. A few years later before Phillips Arena could be built, the Omni had to be demolished. News crews were on hand, and I can remember a friend who took his kids to watch. Why? Because it was history, the end of an era. Besides, there is a peculiar beauty, even an art or a science in such massive destruction.

Were this not the case, Bruce Willis would never have been able to make Die Hard, Die Harder, and how did they not name the third one Die Hardest? Without imploding buildings, Mel Gibson would have never been a Lethal Weapon. In fact, were it not for explosions, Arnold Schwarzenegger could never have gone beyond Conan the Barbarian, and the world, certainly California, would be lesser for it.

In brief, things have to blow up——things like communists, terrorists and the modern Democratic party, which does not seem to want to blow up either terrorists or communists. Politically speaking, I believe we are standing at such a point in history, watching the Democratic Party blow itself up, and it is a sight to see! If this is not the way you see it, perhaps you are not looking honestly enough. Keep watching.

I have a friend who admits to being a Democrat. (Honestly, I have to admit, I probably have a few.) In the interest of protecting one’s identity, I will refer to my friend as . . . Lola. Now I have to think that Lola is intellectually honest, of reasonable intelligence, and fundamentally good-hearted. She is Catholic, pro-life and holds traditional values. Still, somehow, she is a Democrat.

The way I see it, nowadays, there are three kinds of Democrats.* 1) Those who have a disdain for traditional American values, hold no regard for our country’s foundations and suffer with self-destructive propensities. 2) Those who were deprived of oxygen for extended periods of time during infancy or were dropped excessively. 3) Those who were born into the environment and really didn’t know any better.

* If you’re old—and I mean really old like my 94-year-old grandfather—you remember the party of FDR, and have trouble acknowledging change, you might qualify for a fourth category all to yourself—and my grandfather.

In the case of Lola, having established a relationship of mutual respect and trust by assuring her that I doubted she was either brain damaged or iconoclastic, I asked permission to ask her a tough question. Before I restate that question, let me first say that I realize when political affiliation becomes character identifying, reconsidering one’s political identity becomes a soul searching prospect that can be downright horrifying. So I will be gentle.

What would the Democratic Party have to do to cause you to no longer identify yourself with it?

Lola’s response, as opposed to her answer, was telling. She giggled squeamishly, avoiding eye contact, and shook her finger at me, saying that she would not be brought into a rhetorical trap. I was not trying to bring her into any trap. On the contrary, I was trying to show her the way out of the one she is in. I sincerely wanted an answer, though I suppose she knew that if she seriously pondered my question, she would realize that the Democratic Party had already forsaken her.

“I just think the Democrats are right on more of the issues,” she said, hoping her vague answer would negate the call for a real one. Yet she could not identify a single issue with which she agreed with “her” party. Her party had engendered in her a disdain for George W. Bush and all who hold a similar point of view, people who, ironically, would include most of her friends.

This might be a good place to examine the relationship between the people and their government. If We The People remember that government is supposed to be “of the people, by the people, and for the people,” then any relationship that does not exist on that basis is destined to be one of resentment no matter how benevolent or wise that government intends or thinks itself to be.

When we link irrational emotion with the concept of self-government, we are engaging in a self-destructive behavior. (And yes I do mean to imply Lola’s political affiliation has become irrational, moreover self-destructive.) This is the place the Democrats now find themselves. It is not just that most of their ideologies are self-destructive (and I may make a deeper argument for that later), it is their collective psyche has become self-destructive.

Regardless of what Bill Clinton considers his legacy, the political reality remains that his party suffered massive losses in both Houses of Congress during his administration, those losses continued to reverberate through subsequent elections, and the issue that most motivated voters became (and appears will continue to be for the foreseeable future) one of values.

Values? This has left the Democrats scrambling around like vaudeville clowns frenzied by the burning fuse on a powder keg. Values? Values? What are values? they ask. Being against gay “marriage” and abortion must be the values they mean, assumed Nancy Pelosi and any of her ilk who hope to fill the leadership void created by John Kerry. Then they berated so-called values voters for being narrow-minded. In turn, those voters smiled politely, looked toward the burning fuse, and checked their watches to see if it was time for another election yet.

One definition of values that might help the Democrats at least get off the keg they were bound to is the question of what we are getting for our money. We ought to approach federal treasury with the same discrimination we approach our own checking accounts. But we don’t. Instead, We The People, resent our government for the way we are taxed. Rather than demand we be taxed less, we demand an ever increasing amount from a government that, in turn, feels obliged to tax us more to pay for what we now demand. It is the Democratic Party that sees itself as the guarantor of all demands made.

Take Social Security, for instance. Does anyone not resent the way the system has been managed? Yet virtually everyone who has been taxed into it says, “It damn well better be there when I retire?” And why do we demand this? Because government will pay out more than we pay in? Because we are too inept to provide for ourselves? No. Anymore, demand this purely out of resentment.

Values? Values? What are values? Dems are still running around screaming, waiting for the bomb to blow.

Like atheists in a foxhole, they next turned to the Bible, noting that it was a “Christian” duty to care for the poor. “We do that,” they protested. “We care for the poor. We’re Christian, too. We have values,” they seemed to be arguing out of desperation, pleading that the transparency of their newfound argument be overlooked. Is it the word of Jesus Christ they submit to or the philosophy of Karl Marx they ascribe to? If you are unclear, try to reconcile your answer with the Democratic concept of the separation of church and state.

Never mind the Democrats’ care for the poor over the past forty years decimated the family structure, increased both the number and percentage of people living in poverty, and has turned their benevolent campaign into another government-run industry that promises to become as bureaucratic and costly as Social Security. (Any doubts here, read The Tragedy of American Compassion or any of the online articles by that book's author, Marvin Olasky.) I'd offer you my copy, but I loaned it to a friend in Iowa (I won't say who), but I never got it back.

And if the way the government (not to be confused with The People) visited dastardly consequences on the poor, consider what they have done to the women. The devastating effect abortion has on women (never mind her child) mirrors the destructive consequence abortion has wrought on the Party. (My editor suggested I offer evidence here to avoid the appearance of pure rhetoric. However, this is my longest blog to date, and adding appropriately to it, I fear, would make it excessive. Instead, I hope to at least inspire those who don't see the connection between abortion and misogyny to explore it. You can ask me personally, or you can take my word for it. Or I can save it for another blog. Your choice. Let me know.) Back to the point of how abortion is destroying the Democratic party.

Consider that if every aborted child had been allowed to live, most would probably be Democrats, like their parents. And provided they were not deprived of oxygen or dropped excessively as infants, and assuming they could figure how to use a touch screen or a butterfly ballot, the Democrats would never need lose another election. But the way it stands now, the only way Democrats can win is if dead people, those dead people, vote. Can you think of anything more self-destructive than killing off your voters?

This Christmas, Democrats are asking Santa Claus for a savior. Hell, a savior would be a miracle. They’d be happy with three wise men, or even one. But I suspect that the Democrats probably killed their savior. I have to think that if King Herod were alive today, he would probably be a Democrat.

And in the midst of what was promising to be an all-out implosion of the Democratic Party, we had the opening of the Clinton Presidential Library. Several have commented that the structure looks like a double-wide trailer. Though hardly flattering, Clinton had to concede as much himself during the rain-soaked opening ceremony.

But something else struck me odd about the structure. The architectural design was meant to remind us that Bill Clinton was the metaphorical “Bridge to the 21st Century.” (Boy did we hear that to ad nauseam!) Well Clinton’s “bridge” only goes halfway across the Arkansas River. Half a bridge is not a bridge, it’s pier. Or to a pirate, it would be a plank.

In true Democratic fashion, Clinton thrived while the party that supported him was being destroyed. Indeed, after the midterm elections of 1994, it was clear the only thing that saved Clinton was that he did not have to run that year. Quickly, Bill Clinton learned that he would have to appropriate the agenda set by the House Republicans, or more accurately, by the voters who put them there.

But the clowns now running around the powder keg that is the Democratic Party refuse to realize this. Why? Either they consider 1994 a rousing success, or their resentment for a majority of American voters has made them, dare I say, irrational.

And the one who deserves credit for saving Bill Clinton from himself is probably none other than Newt Gingrich, who knows something about the art of self-destruction himself. It’s a pity for Newt that Bill never returned the favor.

Kindness Kills, Hate Destroys, and Love Conquers All

2004-11-12T16:25:00.001-05:00

Around 3 a.m. on election night, unable to watch any more newsless news and unable to sleep, I reached for the book on my nightstand—you guessed it, Dylan’s Chronicles—and began reading.

During the recording of Oh Mercy, Dylan had stolen away from New Orleans for the afternoon on his motorcycle. Somewhere outside of Thibodaux, off Route 90, there was a shack called King Tut’s Museum that sold gas, fresh vegetables, trinkets, votive candles and blue voodoo beads. Dylan described the proprietor, Sun Pie, as “short and wiry like a panther, dark face but with Slavic features . . . on his bones was the raw skin of the earth.” With the Beatles song “Do You Want to Know a Secret?” playing in the background, Sun Pie explained how the Chinese were in America during the time of Christ and were the ancestors of the Native Americans.

“Yeah, that’s right. Trouble was that they split up into parties and tribes and started wearing feathers and forgot they were Chinese. They started wars with each other for no reason, one tribe against another. . . That’s why when the white man came from Europe to conquer them they fell so easily.” Furthermore, Sun Pie continued, “They’re coming back, these Chinese, millions of them. It’s been preordained, and they won’t have to use force.”

While Dylan found the man interesting, I imagined someone who might be considered, in our modern parlance, part of the lunatic, kook fringe. Or to put it in a politically correct way, a 21st century Democrat.

“You a praying man?” Sun Pie asked (and I thought, Oh, must not be a Democrat). “What do you pray for? You pray for the world?” To which Dylan responded, “I pray that I can be a kinder person.”

Ouch! My heart sank. There in my Florida hotel room, I realized I had been praying for our country and our world, but I had not been praying to be a kinder person. That thought, to use a Protestant term, convicted me. Or in other words, I was busted.

I recalled a rare interview Dylan gave 20 years ago in which he claimed to be apolitical, regarding politics as an instrument of the devil. I cannot agree with him categorically because we, as a free people, must assume responsibility in our system of self-government; and cynicism ought not be used to shirk these responsibilities. That said, there is a certain wisdom in recognizing that if rancor and chaos are the chief fruits of political discourse, evil will attach itself to our words as cunningly as smoke separates from a fire.

Thinking the election would soon be over, my faith in my God and my country still intact, it was time to let some of the bile go. I was about to find that not many were sharing that sentiment. In fact, despite the decisive outcome, the Left was asking what concessions President Bush would make. Incredible. How could they be expected to learn anything from this election when they still had not learned the lesson of last election, which is that the loser is the one who concedes? Or more to my point, how can the fighting stop when the defeated side doesn’t think it’s over?

Schwarzenegger, in what must be viewed with a sense of humor, tried to make this point. Responding to a reporter’s question about whether he would consider tax proposals from the Democrats or reject them flatly, the Governator said, “Why would I listen to losers.” Now clearly, such comments will not win friends or influence people (at least not the people being called losers), but they will get a few laughs (at least from the people who agree with him).

This seems like a good point to mention a friend who was dissatisfied with my last posting. Out of respect for his anonymity, I will not say who. I will say that he and I were fraternity brothers in college, and he has probably told me that he loves me more times than any other straight man. (I think he’s straight?) In any event, we were usually drinking when he would say it, and the words, “I love you, brother dude,” cannot really be taken seriously anyway. That being said, I feel I owe him a certain loyalty.

He considered my previous post to be mean, hateful and judgmental, with nothing redeeming about it whatsoever. He didn’t mince his words. I do have to admit, my goal has been to remain out of the vitriol that everyone else swims in, but I had sunk into it. When I started, I was delighted to hear that people who were, shall I say, not in their “right” mind were reading my blog. In a way, those people became my real audience. Assuming my goal was to be persuasive (which is probably overstating it a bit), the best way to do that would be with insight and humor. My real goal was, of course, insight and humor for its own sake.

That being said, it’s hard to know how to respond when the Brits are calling me dumb, Bruce Springsteen quit talking to me, and Tom Daschle really had it coming. (You Bork our judges, we’ll Daschle your senators.) Can I get a little wiggle room? The fact that most of my readers agree with me did not diminish the opinions of the two who didn’t.*
The truth is 59,459,765 people can be wrong. They just didn’t happen to be this time.

* I said two people because there was the one . . . person (I’m trying to be kind here) who accused me of being dishonest because I said I’d like to see the House of Representatives pick the president. Obviously, he/she did not know me well enough to spot my wry, sometimes adorably vindictive humor. But to question my honesty?

I would honestly prefer we pick the president as John Adams suggested, by having the House do it. (For the record, in the scenario I suggested, the House would have picked the President in accordance with the Constitution. Honesty?) Just think how much better that would be. We could avoid the Oprah spectacle, the dog and pony shows that are the conventions, and even the swimsuit competitions (i.e. the debates). This is really what we have brought our election process to, the entertainment of the most clueless among us. (Thank you Undecidables.) And while I’m on it, do we really want to have a swimsuit competition knowing that Hillary will be running in 2008? I mean, honestly!

So what is the solution? In a word: kindness. (Rough segue, I know.)

Think of the Kitchen Debates. Khrushchev, for purposes of this illustration, will be analogous to the Democratic party while Richard Nixon, God rest his soul, still carries the mantle of the G.O.P. The debate was over which society offered a better standard of living. Khrushchev, with the air of a professional wrestler, taunted the vice president, pointing his finger in Nixon’s face while saying, “Your grandchildren will live under communist rule.” Nixon, refusing to be provoked, stood with his hands folded behind his back, and calmly replied, “Your children will live in freedom.”

“Kindness” may not be the best word to describe Nixon’s response; meek is probably better (as in “Blessed are the . . ."). But history would prove Nixon right. On July 12, 1999, Sergei Khrushchev (Nikita’s son) took the Loyalty Oath and became an American citizen. The moral of the story is, of course, Kindness Kills.

Carrying the analogy out, how might the Republicans defeat the Democrats who refuse to admit they have lost? Again, with kindness.

When I hear the hatred being thrust at Bush (or as I perceive it, at those who elected him), I have to smile. When people of faith are maligned by the likes of Patrick Leahy, I think to myself, That should be good for another three Senate seats in 2006. As true as it is that our enemies can be killed with kindness, so, too, can they destroy themselves with hatred. (I have to confess, I’m not sure what to make of the guilty pleasure I take in watching this happen.)

All that said, I would like to see the rancor subside, at least before the Chinese return to conquer. Remember, we don't have Richard Nixon to kick them around anymore.

George Bush, John Kerry, and The One Who Gets the Final Word

2004-10-29T01:12:00.000-05:00

Of the beliefs I hold, I wish to mention one. God is a troublemaker. A benevolent troublemaker, I am to believe, but a troublemaker nonetheless.

This belief was formed in the midst of our last election. While several commented on my writing about God’s private assurance in regard to that last election, some have looked to me for an indication of what is to happen this time. For anyone to expect that I would have such an insight would be as foolish for them as it would be prideful for me to claim one. That said, I have a prediction. But I’m going to make you hear me out first.

What I really enjoyed about last election was that it felt like we got to beat Al Gore again and again. “What’s that, Al? Another recount? Sure.” I almost felt guilty for laughing at him set himself up to get knocked down. I saw God teaching us all a lesson about humility, obedience and honesty. Had Gore requested a recount of the entire state, as opposed to just the three most densely Democratic counties, he may have won. (I say “may have won” because a later, post-concession recount showed that he lost, again.) Instead, by employing the legal strategy of an equal protection standard, Gore would fall on what was, by definition, a two-edged sword. The truth hurts, but it also sets you free.

Even my sister-in-law, who voted for him, said she regretted it after watching him behave like a, dare I say, sore loserman for 36 days. Me, I had a picture on my desktop of Al about to lose it. Tears welling in the eyes, lines wrinkling across his forehead, his sun-tanned debate face now ashen with pity. It was beautiful! Total meltdown. I watched these events unfold with the same kind of sadistic voyeurism that would help reality TV save entire networks over the next four years. It was the un-making of an almost-president right before our eyes.

As irony would have it, had Al Gore just conceded, he would have lived to fight another day—maybe even this day. Instead, he’s out there stumping for the one senator even more unlikable than Tom Daschle. (I have a prediction about his as well, but I’ll have to get back to that.) Before we forget about Gore altogether, I have to note that realizing that he should have followed Richard Nixon’s lead has gotta hurt.

So does God hate Al Gore and enjoy watching him suffer? I don’t think so, but I believe as I believe Bush believes that God wanted W to be president. When the planes hit the World Trade Center, I think Bush saw why he had become president. I believe Bush sees the War on Terror and the threat it poses. Clinton did not. Gore did not. Kerry does not. And so by the same logic as last election, though it had not been apparent then, I believe Bush is destine to lead this country through a very dangerous and crucial time.

In his Chronicles memoir, Bob Dylan recalls getting to New York in the early 1960s, curious to understand the changing times and seeking to do so through the prism of history. He looked back through the pages of the nation’s newspapers to the Civil War. In those papers, Abraham Lincoln was commonly derided as a “buffoon” or an “ostrich,” deemed unfit to lead. Yet, he led this country through its most trying times and is generally regarded as our greatest president.

I found it curious that Dylan, rather than writing about what inspired songs like “Masters of War” (as was expected), wrote about how Lincoln’s vision and the nation’s short-sightedness influenced him. Surely he must have been aware that parallels would be drawn between that time and this one.

While it seems impossible to predict this election’s outcome based on polls, the one opinion of unanimity seems to be that this contest will not be settled on Election Day. There will be confusion, fraud, crime and, of course, lawsuits. In the midst of this, God will teach his greatest lessons, and those who have eyes will see. And what they will see will be the destruction of those filled with hate and deceit.

Since my last blog, there was an attempt to assault Ann Coulter, an effort to run down Kathleen Harris, the publication of a manual instructing Democratic poll workers to charge discrimination where there is none, gunshots and vandalism at various GOP campaign headquarters, and payments in crack cocaine made to Chad Stanton for registering people like Mary Poppins and Michael Jackson. What do you think an appropriate punishment would be for Chad?

From a hanging chad we move nicely to a hanging judge, and another reason Bush should be president. Let’s all say it together: Chief Justice Clarence Thomas. Just the thought of that makes my heart flutter like it hasn’t since I met the girl in the shaft. But I’m trying to forget about all of that, so don’t bring it up. Back to the point, don’t you find it deliciously mischievous how God lets us know he may be calling Billy Rehnquist home any time now?

But God’s antics won’t stop there. If we see an exact replay of last election, seven electoral votes will change hands do to the census reapportioning. What’s more, if Bush wins Wisconsin (which he lost by just 5,708 votes in 2000) and New Mexico (388 votes shy) while giving up Ohio and New Hampshire (both states in which Kerry is leading), we would see an exact tie. In fact, I found about a dozen highly possible scenarios that would yield such a result.

Now if the Supreme Court deciding the last election didn’t drive the Left bonkers, imagine what will happen to them when they find out that Tom Delay gets to pick the president this time. (Technically, it would be the House of Representatives, but they’ll undoubtedly blame Delay and accuse him of stealing the election. You think Al Gore had a melt down; I’m thinking Kerry will take Zell Miller hostage, and Theresa will go after Mary Cheney, who, by the way, is a LESBIAN. The Senate will pick the vice president, and Kennedy will get caught trying to stuff the ballot box.

So that’s my prediction: a tie in the electoral college and a vote on the floor of the House. Bush will have lost the popular, which will drive the Democrats deeper into uncontrollable rage and inspire greater contempt for those who established the EC and the Constitution that supports it. Hold fast and cover your eyes. It’s about to get ugly.

And speaking of ugly, I watched Fahrenheit 9/11. It turned my stomach. After some hard core (illogical and kook fringe) Bush bashing, Moore turns his cynical camera on everyday Americans and mocks innocent people. It is ironic how he thinks Britney Spears looks stupid for expressing her support for President Bush while he considers himself worthy of an Oscar for bashing him.

Fahrenhype 9/11 was the perfect chaser. It dismantled Moore’s deliberate web of lies perfectly. It was credible, balancing and civil. In fact, while I was disgusted with Moore after watching his movie, I found him almost tolerable after watching the answer to it. They treated him with more respect and fairness than Moore has ever treated anyone. It seems as though Moore wants to be hated. He appears to thrive on the ill-will he engenders. It is not unlike the mass murder who finds logic in his own execution. In hating Moore, we feed him with the very poison he sells.

A few more predictions before I go. Daschle will lose his seat and join his wife as a lobbyist in order to remain a sore in the side of Washington. Kerry, lionized for losing the election, will rise as the head of the Senate and poison the well of public debate Daschle swam in. Kennedy will announce his retirement and offer one of his nephews as a replacement. Bob Dylan will never get around to Volume Two, or Three of his Chronicles memoirs. And somewhere in Florida there will be an old lady who voted early, but now wants to change her vote.

Well, for those I haven’t had a chance to tell, I’m off to Florida to help get the vote out here in the homestretch. If I find that little, old, disenfranchised lady, I will be kind. Whenever you run into a troublemaker, be kind. You never know who sent them.

The New Civil War, the Profundity of Freedom, and the Self-licking Dog

2004-10-11T06:53:00.000-05:00

Since my last entry, George Bush twice restrained himself from strangling John Kerry; Dick Cheney finally had an encounter with John Edwards worth remembering; the Iraqi interim Prime Minister Iyad Allawi visited and accused the US media of misrepresenting the war in Iraq; and Simon & Schuster finally published a book that did not bash Bush.

With all that’s happened, you’d think I’d find plenty of fodder for an amusing entry, but I’m not seeing a lot to laugh about these days. The purpose of the blog in these trying times has been two-fold: levity and truth, because where there is humor there is truth.

But where there is truth there is not necessarily humor. With tensions rising and the specter of the 2000 election debacle threatening to recreate itself, it might be wise for me to recall something that happened around this time four years back. Is it funny? It might be to some, but the rest of us will see where it takes us.

I had been in the habit of checking the polls daily, some days hourly, and it was causing me great distress. I was losing sleep, waking up in the middle of the night, short of breath, tied and twisted in my sweat-damped sheets. The thought of a President Gore bothered me that much. (Some of you may be laughing already.)

One night, while praying by my bedside, I got a strong sense that said, “You do not need to worry about this.” I asked, “Does that mean I don’t need to worry about this because You’ve got it covered? Or do I not need to worry about this because I’m obsessing?” The fact that my follow-up question did not get answered led me to believe that it probably should not have been asked. Was it divine intervention or wishful thinking? God only knows, but it got me through the night.

In fact, it got me through October. While I continued to pray and fast, I also kept an eye on the polls, regarding them with a comic vanity because of knowledge that I, alone, had. This certainty continued to sustain me through the election (though Florida did humble me that night). It got me through the recount, the terrorist attacks and the start of a contest more vitriolic than I thought possible. Hell, it even got me to Iowa (and back).

But now the stakes are higher, the division is deeper, and the right war, at the right place, in the right time is here and now. But we are not fighting the battle we think we are. Again I am losing sleep; my sheets are sweat-damped and twisted; and my bedside prayers are not getting any special attention.

In the words of Bob Dylan, “I got mixed up confusion. Man, it's a-killin’ me.” (Incidentally, in the recently published Chronicles, Volume One, Dylan reveals that he had a childhood ambition to attend West Point.)

In the words of President Lincoln, “Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.”

And in the words of President Bush in Friday night’s debate, “I’m worried. I’m worried. I’m worried about our country.”

The seemingly interminable pauses that permeate his speech enrage those who hate him and steal beats for the hearts of those who love him. Did the president just admit he was scared? I thought to myself during one of those pauses. Was he thinking of what would happen if he lost the debate? I can’t even think of him losing the election I thought as I watched him amble clumsily through the tax and class warfare traps Kerry had set for him. “And the reason I'm worried,” he recovered, “is because there's a vicious enemy that has an ideology of hate.”

Now this might be where I leave the reservation, but I’m not so sure the president was thinking only of the terrorists.

The real war was never the War on Poverty or the War on Drugs or the War on Crime or Illiteracy or even War on Erectile Dysfunction. And while the War on Terror must be fought—and won, the real war is that which has been taking place in our culture. It is the New Civil War. “And the way to defeat them long-term,” Bush said, “is to spread freedom.”

We, in America, do not fight for our freedom in the sense that freedom is being fought for in Iraq or Afghanistan. Rather, we fight for what we might do with the freedom that has been afforded us. America has taken the profound freedom of which Lincoln spoke and many have died, and we have reduced it to mere license. If a 17th century French philosopher believed, “I think, therefore, I am,” then the average 21st century American believes, “I do because I can,” thereby making himself no better than the dog who licks himself.

If we put aside issues of how broad the coalition should be, the length of time it should take or what the US troop level should be, we can agree that the wars being fought are wars of liberation. Now let me ask, What kind of freedom would we like to see in Iraq? Do we want to see a Thomas Jefferson arise or a Howard Stern? A Betsy Ross or an Anna Nicole Smith? A Thomas Paine or a Larry Flint? If Iraq’s designs on freedom are no more noble than our own, then the war should not only have never been fought, it should be lost.

We ask in faux bewilderment why they hate us, as if we really don’t know. In arrogance, we claim it is because of our freedom, and we accuse them of being jealous. While the despots may hate us for embodying the freedom they keep from their people, their people must surely hate us for what we have done with the freedom they do not have.

And perhaps the reason we are so divided in this country is because we are free to hate one another, restrained only by the democracy many would gladly betray to get their way. Over the past couple of weeks, there has been gunfire in campaign headquarters; voter fraud is already happening; and Michael Moore is giving away underwear to “slackers” in exchange for their vote. (Let’s hope he’s not giving away what he’s worn.)

It seems that in our current America, we affirm that we are free by choosing the greater of two evils—-because we can. John Kerry displayed this perfectly when he argued for abortion rights. “I respect the belief about life and when it begins,” he said-—not, “I respect life.” (Notice how even life itself is subordinate to opinion.) Kerry then wondered voluntarily into partial-birth abortion, arguing not for exceptions to the rule, but exceptions in place of any rule.

Absurdly, he offered the fact that he was a Catholic (and that he was in Vietnam) as if being Catholic somehow required him to reject the Church’s teaching (or being in Vietnam required him to reject the mission). Apparently, in the mind of John Kerry, freedom comes in the choosing of what we know to be wrong. This would be funny, if it weren’t so true.

The Definition of a Bounce, Desires of the Flesh, and the Burning of My Blog

2004-09-20T01:02:00.000-05:00

Let me start by saying that I did not say that Homer Simpson was “more popular than Christ.” Nor did I say The Simpsons would thrive while Christianity would “wither and fade.” Just because the death of John Lennon introduced me to the Beatles, and the Beatles to just about every interest I’ve developed since (most notably Bob Dylan), I do not subscribe to Lennon’s theology. So those of you organizing Blog Burnings, chill. As a gentle reminder, anyone who printed out any of my lost blogs (and has not burned them) I still am hoping to recover that text. But getting back to my point, I was merely trying to offer a theological insight which was apparently lost on some of you. Let me re-approach with, of course, a Dylan verse.

The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter.

I will use the innocent flesh on the bone to refer to the geometrically round Homer, who, to no objection, was agreed to be without guile, thus the innocence. I must admit, I am a little uneasy using an animated figure to make a point about the reality of flesh. But what Homer lacks in actual flesh, he more than makes up for with the amount of flesh he has. Please, bare with me.

The import of Christianity is not to be found in the kindly platitudes or mystical divinations, but rather in the phrase, “And the Word became flesh.” God, in one way, became real when he became flesh. For those of you fearful that I might go religious on you, at ease. Pretend instead that you are Homer and concentrate on flesh the way Homer concentrates on doughnuts (“Mmm dough-nuts”), which is how he got so much flesh, and I may get closer to having my point realized.

The export of Christianity is much the same in that we were instructed to “love one another,” or to become the flesh of the mystical body of God. As St. Theresa of Avila put it, we must act as the hands and feet of God. One friend, who was concerned as to why I would not have picked a better hero than Homer Simpson, seemed to have missed the point about flesh——perhaps because I did not make it very well. Simply put: We need heroes with flesh in this world.

And while I’m explaining myself, allow a sincere apology for what may have been regarded as thoughtless or callous. I referred to Bruce Springsteen and Dave Matthews as “fallen heroes” the same week we lost our 1,000th soldier in Iraq. I’ll concede thoughtless, but not callous. The callousness belongs to those who, out of sheer hatred for Bush, would pawn these deaths off as victims who died, not for a conviction or in the greatest act of charity (charity is not a euphemism for higher taxes, by the way), but died for the stupidity and arrogance of another. Nonsense. For those who died because of a belief that man should live in freedom, we can have no better example of heroism or flesh becoming the mystical body of Christ.

Now for Galileo’s math book. During the last campaign, then-Governor Bush coined the term “fuzzy math,” almost as if knowing of the looming accounting scandals that laid the groundwork for the recession and revealed the decade gone by as too good too be true. (But don’t tell that to a Democrat who has been trained to believe that tax cuts cause recessions.) Fuzzy math? Oh, the places I could go with this!

Let’s start with the concept of absolute truth. Be it Fahrenheit 9/11 or The Passion of the Christ, there is a truth that exists beyond one’s willingness (or refusal) to accept it. Take for example Dan Rather’s memos. I heard one pundit slyly attempt to dismiss the story, saying essentially, “Look. People who support Kerry are going to think they’re real; people who support Bush are going to think they are forgeries.” Be that as it may, it was clear that pundit had no intention of installing any importance in absolute truth. Either the memos are authentic or they are forgeries. Right? Then again, one of the great things about freedom is that we can choose to believe a lie. We can even vote according to one.

Incidentally, this same pundit also, in further abuse to Galileo’s math book, said that the only thing to be taken from Bush’s numbers going up after the convention is that they would go down, thus the definition of a bounce. I beg to differ.

Remembering Encyclopedia Britannica from my childhood, I have a picture in my mind of Galileo standing on a balcony with two spheres of different sizes and weights. The experiment would show that both balls, if dropped at the same time, would hit the ground at the same time. (Gravity is another fine example of absolute truth.)

Now picture Galileo, or better yet, George Bush, with a big Red Rubber Ball. If he were to drop it from the balcony, what would happen? That’s right, it would bounce! Which is to say, it starts high (remember the aftermath of 9/11 and how Bush was more loved than Homer Simpson), falls (which is what happened to his numbers after making some tough decisions and making good on the hard promises he made on 9/20), then (after the Republican National Convention reminded us of the clear and consistent vision the president has held since 9/11) goes back up. The last USA/Gallop poll had the lead at the 13 points, and that poll was taken after the bounce would have subsided.

To hear a Democrat explain it, they would have you believe that a bounce starts from the ground, rises for a short period of time, then returns to a natural state of entropy. Now, I’m no Galileo, but that doesn’t sound like a bounce to me. That sounds like a hot air balloon. So if you’re looking to understand a bounce, I suggest you look to George Bush and release all the hot air coming from Dan Rather, John Kerry and a “disingenuous filmmaker” who scoff at silly concepts like absolute truth.

And lastly, Delilah who sits worthlessly alone. I am ashamed to admit that all I really knew of Delilah came from three sources. Tom Jones, to whom I can remember my father listening, singing, “Why, why, why Delilah.” In “Fire,” Bruce Springsteen roared, “Romeo and Juliet, Samson and Delilah; Baby you can bet their love they didn't deny.” And how Homer Simpson kept his brain from freezing in Episode 202 7F02, Simpson and Delilah.

So I thought I might check out the original source, which, incidentally, was not Cecil B. DeMille. Here’s what I found. This girl was not one to be pined over. In fact, Galileo should have thrown more than his math book at her. She actually said to Samson, “How can you say that you love me when you do not confide in me?” So Samson confided in her, and she sold his hair to the Philistines for shekels.

Now John Kerry’s three biggest qualifications to be president, in order, are: 1) He’s not George Bush; 2) The little-known fact that he was in Vietnam, and; 3) The hair. Which reminds me, does anyone remember Kerry ushering off his little intern mistress to England or France when the campaign started? Did we ever know her name?

Might it have been Delilah who sits worthlessly alone, with the tears on her cheeks from the laughter?

Well she will not be alone for long. Soon Alec Baldwin, Michael Moore and John Kerry can visit her and live there happily ever after.

Fallen Heroes, Human Waste, and the Wisdom in Sector 7-G

2004-09-09T11:19:00.000-05:00

So it’s been an interesting couple of weeks, what with losing my hero, then losing my job, and doing so in a way that made me wonder if I had not lost my mind. Well, while this heart of mine is in better shape than Bill Clinton’s, this head of mine remains a fringe partner at best—which will be the topic of this week’s blog: The Softer Side of Stupidity.

Perhaps we should start by examining the dual value of intelligence. Intelligence can be used for good, self-betterment and the betterment of others. Or it can be used to develop weapons of mass destruction, gain tyrannical power or trick the intellectually deficient into voting for a Democrat.

Heretofore, the only other value stupidity ever seemed to have was that it could make us laugh. How else to explain the universal appeal of the Darwin Awards, Joey while he had Friends and Howard Dean supporters. They were harmless, curious and lovable in their banality.

Those of you who have bumper stickers that read, “Stupidity Ought to Be Painful” and are growing frustrated because of your zero-tolerance policy on stupidity, let me say, “I feel your pain.” (That didn’t come out right.) Whatever. Bear with me. It is not that I am softening my position on stupidity (as my title would seem to suggest), it is just that I am trying to understand what appears to be a naturally occurring phenomenon in hopes that we all may live in harmony. I fully recognize that the greatest crop stupidity yields is frustration (though in many of the blue states, Children are coming in a tight second).

Where was I going? Stupid? Frustration? Oh, yeah. Springsteen.

Before I rant, for the sake of intellectually honesty, I have to admit the positive influence Bruce Springsteen had on me in the past. No matter how offended I am by his current actions, I remain grateful for the positive impact he had on my life during some tough teen years. He reached me when the only other person who even tried was my basketball coach; and the best thing he ever did for me was give me my first Springsteen record.

Now, before I get misty, let the rant begin.

I fully intend to illegally download every bit a music he makes moving forward; I offer my CD collection to whoever wants to pirate it, and I will sneak into his concerts only once he realizes at least half his audience want him to shut up and sing. No politics, Bruce! Got it?

Though this the most coherent of any of my openings thus far, I still feel like I have confused everyone. What does this have to do with re-election of George W. Bush, Iowa or the war in Iraq? I’ll get there. Patience, grasshoppers.

On the bill with Springsteen is Dave Matthews, who fronts my sister-in-law’s favorite band. (My brother likes them too.) Apparently Dave and his merry band of troubadours were riding their tour bus when human waste began to flow as if the bus’s bladder had burst. The driver, allegedly, had decided to, shall we say, relieve himself (and the whole band) while rolling down the highway. When the rubber hits the road and the shit hits the fan, or, to properly mix metaphors, the shit hit the road, Dave and his boys had some ‘splainin’ to do.

They offered to give DNA samples to test against the waste being recovered from the roadside in hopes they would be exonerated. Now granted, Dave probably has some fans who would have an interest in his bodily waste (heck, my brother might be one of them). But none of their shit-for-brains fans (which is not to say all) could analyze DNA. Even sober, I have to wonder how many of them could spell it.

Now that I’ve pissed off my brother and offended those sensitive to foul language, please understand I simply could not pass up commenting. How often would I get to use the phrase like “shit-for-brains” in a proper context? Anyhow, I did have a point, and as soon as it comes back to me, I’ll let you know.

Oh, yeah. Springsteen (who, at present, has no reported problems with incontinence). He and Dave Matthews are the two biggest names on the “Anybody-but Bush Tour” being sponsored by MoveOn.org, which, thanks to the new campaign finance laws, does not openly endorse John Kerry. Whatever. In my estimation, the whole lot of them should all be made to ride in the back of the short bus, if you know what I mean. And no toilet!

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, let’s talk about Schwarzenegger.

Again, for honesty’s sake, I admit that I think Arnold was once a serial groper, though probably no worse than Clinton or any of the Kennedys. I think he probably did steroids, and I’m still not sure what that was doing in the last State of the Union. And I think electing him governor was a trivial and indiscriminate indulgence into star worship that abused the freedom and self-government we ought to hold sacred.

Lest any of you think my thoughts have again strayed, I will remind you that the focus of this week’s blog is stupidity. Now, back to Arnold.

Needless to say, I was not pleased to see Schwarzenegger was elected, and I would have much preferred to see his spot at the convention given to Alan Keyes. But having been departed from the great state of Iowa, I lost my link to Karl Rove and the chance to make a crucial point that could have forever changed the course of the debate. And a good thing I didn’t, because Arnold was great!

Never mind the populist appeals with phrases like “girlie men” and “I’ll be back,” Arnold had me cheering when he spoke of discovering his political identity by listening to Richard Nixon and proclaiming, “Then I [too] am a Republican.” (I hope you all recall that with an Austrian accent.) I haven’t felt that kind of elation since Springsteen called out “Rosalita” in the Meadowlands last summer. A pain pierces my heart as I say that. See how hard it is to lose a hero?

So I have been on a quest to replace Springsteen as my hero. But with whom? Arnold? Too many bad movies. Alan Keyes? I’d have to move to Illinois. W? I’m voting for him, but I still say he spends way too much money. Nixon or Reagan? I can detract none from the dead.

When Springsteen first opened his mouth, a less-than-sympathetic friend in Iowa chastised me for having a hero other than Jesus. While she is, I am to believe, a devout Catholic, her thoughts sounded not unlike Calvin in their over-simplification, or like that of a Baptist in the intellectually superficial emotionalism. (Apologies to the Baptists who realize they were just slapped.)

Were it that simple. In my life, I have found that child-like faith as allusive as trying to pick up mercury from a broken thermometer off the kitchen floor with my fingertips. Incidentally, is it true that touching mercury can cause brain damage or death if it gets into the pores? What about ADD?

Where was I?

Oh, yeah. Jesus. Here’s my struggle. Not everyone who turns to God experiences what, say, Mel Gibson has experienced. I’ve heard all about the value of suffering, sanctification and the promises of eternal life. But, frankly, some of us are getting a little pissed off at being told to remember Job. I’m looking for a new hero. So I ask: What do Arnold Schwarzenegger, Richard Nixon, George W. Bush and Jesus all have in common?

“Do you think that I have come to establish peace on the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division (Luke 12:51).”

Huh, you say, recalling . . .

“So that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us (John 17:21).”

So if you are confused, maybe feeling dumb, I have made my point. You now understand the Softer Side of Stupidity. Congratualations.

So I ask, Who is the one person universally adored and loved by all? (I’ll give you a hint: He’s really stupid.)

More hints?

“Jesus saw [???] coming toward him and said of him, "Here is a true [Springfielder]. There is no duplicity (or guile) in him (John 1:47).”

Who could court a lady (successfully, I might add) by saying, “Look, I'm not asking you to like me. I'm not asking you to put yourself in a position where I can touch your goodies. I'm just asking you to be fair (episode 7F12, The Way We Was).”?

Who could, in a time of panic, pick up the phone and say, “Operator! Give me the number for 911! (episode 7F07, Bart vs. Thanksgiving).”?

And who could look upon the face of God and conclude, “Perfect teeth. Nice smell. A class act, all the way (9F01, Homer the Heretic).”?

In the words of Bob Dylan (lest you think I’d forget), “The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind. The answer is [Homer J. Simpson].”

Where, oh Where Has My Little Blog Gone?

2004-09-07T09:06:00.000-05:00

Due to technical ineptitude, my first three blogs appear to be gone. I pulled them from the site immediately following the unfortunate turn of events, thinking that I had back-ups, thinking that my brother had back-ups. Neither of us did. I'm hoping one of you may.

I know that sounds incredibly vain to think someone would catalog my ramblings, but I'm grasping at straws here. Maybe someone printed them out to read later, to bring home for a spouse, or maybe to line a bird cage or to give to an officer of the court. Whatever the reason, it matters not. I'd just like to find a copy of them.

A little help here . . .

Sin, Redemption and the Importance of Vocabulary

2004-08-26T21:38:00.000-05:00

Initially, I assumed losing my job meant losing my blog as well. But upon further consideration (and several requests), I realize that, in the words of Popeye (or was it Yahweh), “I am what I am.” (Was Popeye a blasphemer?) Never mind.

Where was I? Was I anywhere yet? Probably not. Point is, I have not changed.

I will freely admit that a certain quirkiness may well be compromised now that the blog is no longer originating from Iowa. (My apologies to those Iowans who do not think themselves quirky.) Yet I think the blog’s eccentricity resides in the mind of its author, and neither snow, nor rain, nor heat nor gloom of night nor psychiatric medication nor extradition from the Hawkeye state could stay this author from his eccentricity. In other words, I weather on.

Given the deep Christian history of our nation, it is impossible to think about sin and redemption without thinking about Richard Nixon. While my indiscretions were slight, at worst insensitive or stupid (though never ungentlemanly), it was by no means Watergate——or even a Checkers scandal. Furthermore, it is not inconceivable that I could be forgiven——not that I expect to be.

This is as good a time as any to clarify something. The girl in the shaft will not receive word of this blog’s posting. If she, as many of you did, checked the site during the past week, she would have found it wiped clean and hopefully assumed it would stay that way. I intend to let her.

While I have many dear and compassionate friends who could be resourceful, find her email and send word of the, dare I say, resurrection of this blog, I implore you not to. To those who wrote letters to the now defunct Yahoo account, know that I mean that seriously——not with the wink and nod a candidate gives his 527 as he calls for a more “civil” or “sensitive” campaign. Seriously.

Where was I? Oh yeah. Nixon. After the Grand Old Party of Iowa told me that they wouldn’t have Dan O’Byrne to kick around anymore——(I think the subject and verb or something were in different orders when Nixon said it)——I hung my head in shame and left. As I walked the length of the red carpet and boarded the waiting helicopter, shock, denial, confusion, anger and whatever other emotions associated with the grieving process overcame me.

Incidentally, Nixon won Iowa in each of his five national campaigns.

I thought then, and maintain now, that there were certain things that just did not add up. I will not go into detail, but when a like-minded friend actually convinced me to contact the ACLU about a wrongful termination lawsuit, I seriously considered it. In fact, I was in the process of entering the number when the phone in my hand started ringing. It was the RNC, and finally they were going to share some detail.

Have I quoted Bob Dylan yet? No? Let’s see if this one gets the point across.

Can you please crawl out your window?
Use your arms and legs it won't ruin you
How can you say he will haunt you?
You can go back to him any time you want to.

While this verse seems comically apropos, I do not mean to imply that she was actually crawling out her window to avoid me. (Though had she not been on the second floor, I now think she would have.) Nor do I mean to imply, reality aside, that she will come "back to [me] any time [she] want[s] to.” What the RNC made apparent was that she was willing to go to uncomfortable extremes to avoid saying, “Goodnight, Dan. See you tomorrow.”

In the end, the HR person did a superb job convincing me I was a low-grade stalker who, for the good of the country, should just lick his wounds and find somewhere convenient to die.

I can practically feel my female friends chomping at the bit to give me advice, which is to say, point out how I was wrong. Relax. Take comfort in knowing that virtually everyone else of your gender, except apparently you, has already done so. None more eloquently than my lovely sister-in-law—my lovely, older sister-in-law who is not to be confused with my lovely, younger sister-in-law who just married the Moose. Karen’s words of wisdom were as follows.

Point 1: “You did not misread her.”

What? I didn’t see that one coming, I thought. That doesn’t sound like an I-told-you-so. In fact, it sounds mildly supportive. Are you saying by inviting me to smell her hair or asking me if I knew how big a karat was, by spraying me with her perfume while marveling at my persistence that she was not trying to warn me that I was about to get canned as soon as she, metaphorically speaking, crawled out her window? Fascinating species these women are.

Point 2: “Any time you see mixed signals, run away.”

This coming from a woman who plans to vote for John Kerry. Let’s move on, shall we?

Point 3: “Always get the advice from an age-appropriate female,” said Karen, and, astutely sensing that I was patronizing her, added “and follow it.”

This, of course, brought uproariously laughter. Nearly 13 years of marriage had made her delusional. “My brother may have abdicated his own manhood, but he has no power of attorney over mine,” I told her. She reminded me of my success rate, and though not in the exact same words, basically Dr. Phil’d me by saying, “And how’s that working for you?”

By the time we got to Point 4, I was as prepared for the real point as I could hope to be, though wondering if there was an end in site. “You know, Karen, one more point and you’ll have enough for a pentagram." (I hate it when my best jokes go unnoticed.)

Point 4 was something about me being a great guy, saying that if the girl in the shaft had actually gotten to know me, she could have been the third luckiest girl in the world.

Karen’s opinion of my brothers is way too high.

This story, in all its facets, demonstrates, if nothing else, the importance of clear communication. And what is more essential to sound communication than a solid vocabulary.

Allow me to demonstrate with a couple of words.

My first great heartbreak was precipitated by my first real experience of love when I expressed my affection for a certain lass, who seemed to be pained at having to acknowledge that fact. When pressed, she described her feelings toward me as “ambivalent.” Had I known that “ambivalent” did not mean “indifferent,” things may have been different. Dare I say, I would have persisted.

Then there’s “guile.”

Around the time of that heartbreak, I was just discovering Bob Dylan and had a favorite song. “Heart of Mine,” he sang, “so malicious and so full of guile.” I’d thought “guile” meant the same as “vile” or “bile”——perhaps because they rhymed. Anyhow, I thenceforth have suspected there to be something loathsome and reviled about my heart.

Then, in last Tuesday’s Gospel, Nathanael was presented as someone “in whom there is no guile.” Being more familiar with another translation in which Jesus said of Nathanael, “There is no duplicity in him,” I always thought that something had been radically lost in translation. In fact, duplicity and guile mean exactly the same thing!

I, perhaps not uniquely, have felt a certain reprehensibility or self-condemnation when my passions have shone too bright a light on my heart. Yet, not even my harshest critic (which is to say myself, ocassionaly my sister-in-law) would ever accuse me of being two-faced, let alone two-hearted, which is what it means to be duplicitous.

So after all these years, I have finally found some consolation in the knowledge that in this “Heart of Mine,” there is no indifference and there is no guile.

An Overdue Beginning

2004-07-29T00:31:00.001-05:00

So it is Saturday night, just after midnight, and I am still in the office.

After many requests, I am finally making good on my oft-repeated promise to get out my blog. Technology races forward quicker than I can learn it--certainly quicker than I can buy it. Nevertheless, both of my brothers make up for what I lack.

So first, a word about my older brother, Joe. He is, dare I think, right-minded (insert sigh of relief here), though he married a left-leaning CPA who no longer does my taxes. I digress. The point is Joe set this blog up for me and gave me the address: W in '04. "thought you'd like that," he added.

Of course in http lingo, it reads wino4. "Wino for" what? Is that a Britney Spears song? I expect that kind of thing from Paul “the Forehead” Begala or my younger brother, Moose, who likes to be called Rodney for reasons I've never understood, or obeyed. Again, I digress. Anyhow, wino4? An innocent mistake? I think not.

So I drove out the Wednesday before last, failed my emissions test on the way and will be running from the law come August 21st, which is my birthday. No parties please. Before I hit Tennessee, a rock hit my windshield, and I watched it spider as I drove from the southeast to the midwest. Not only was the ride less than scenic, but I was over my minutes on my cell phone (I'm officially done with AT&T. Yeah!!!!!) and there is really no one worth 40 cents a minute—except for my psychiatrist who charges a lot more than that. Again, I digress. You’d think my $2 minute shrink would help me with my ADD. Anyhow, I called customer service, which is free, and happened to get a lovely young lady named . . . I forget. Damn! Anyhow, she was from upstate NY, in school studying elementary education. (I never called it an MRS degree, but let’s call a spade a spade.) I figured she had to be cute. About an hour later, after warning her away from college boys, I lost my signal and my only friend. Illinois can be a lonely place.

Through the night, I alternated between roadside naps and forging on with the driving. I got to Iowa late morning. It was raining like mad, and the streets were flooded from construction. I still had not gotten the address of my new office, but figured I’d go to the capitol, central enough, call on my 40-cent-a-minute cell phone and figure where to go next. The offices of the Republican Party of Iowa were two blocks from the capitol. Am I a genius or what?!

I wasn't expecting a ticker-tape parade, but it would have been nice to have someone know I was coming. Smelling like I did, and looking about the same, I had limited time to make my case before the police were called. "Oh, you're the Catholic guy," the director suddenly deduced and I was safe. I put in a half a day's work, which mostly consisted of meeting people (great first impression) and learning how to use the phone. I called State Farm and they had me a new windshield within 24 hours. It only cost me a three-minute phone, and not one on my cell phone. You gotta love that!

Hutch would meet me at his home around six. It's a good thing I was nice to him all those GWCC years ago because he sure has been gracious to me. He's put me up while I've tried to find housing in Cedar Rapids, two hours east of Des Moines, then bounced back and forth for various reasons between two ideas. I need to find a place in Des Moines that won't get bent when I leave to go to Cedar Rapids. I could give you the pro and cons of here and there, but who really cares.

The office here used to be a funeral home. It has all these strange interior windows, frosted and opaque. The boss's office, I'm told, is where they used to put the bodies with contagious skin diseases. Senator Chuck Grassley’s picture is the first thing you see when you walk through the door, and I will forever think of his as a kindly old undertaker. Reagan's picture is in no shortage around here, either. Again, let's all sigh pleasantly together. Sigh.

The office is temporarily overcrowded. I am in the conference room at a folding table. It could be worse. The lovely young lady who is the media relations director was ousted from her office so her boss could put someone “really important” in there. She ended up in the rear of the building where a special elevator used to bring up the dead for embalming and came to be known as the shaft. So you could say that she literally got the shaft. She has nice skin, though.

That’s probably enough for my first blog, but I really haven’t talked about why I’m doing. Maybe next time. Sufficed to say, if so many Catholics were not working from some misguided notion that they are supposed to be Democrats, I wouldn’t have such a hard job—or a job at all.

Scratch that.