"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone."
"If someone throws a tone at you, throw back a loaf of bread."
"There is a time to throw stones, and a time to gather stones together."
"They want to throw rocks at our military, our military fights back. ... I told them to consider it a rifle. When they throw rocks like they did at the Mexico military police, I say: Consider it a rifle."
If that last one doesn't ring quite as true or sound as poetic as the others, consider the source: That's what the "President" suggested how the troops he sent the the U.S./Mexico border deal with anyone who would cast a stone at them. Shoot them. Men, women and children who have walked hundreds of miles as an act of desperation probably didn't get the memo.
Elsewhere in the world, The Nigerian army last Friday used our "President's" remarks to justify opening fire at Shi'ite Muslim protesters in their country earlier in the week. Good news travels quickly, but vile threats might travel just a little quicker.
It could be that being echoed by a government weighed down by human rights abuses, after eight years of conflict with Boko Haram, our "President" chose to tone down his initial bombast. Instead, he went with a more subdued, "They won't have to fire. What I don't want is I don't want these people throwing rocks," the "President" told reporters outside the White House. "If they do that with us, they're going to be arrested for a long time."
A long time. More than likely separating families. In tents. And guess what?
There are still people coming north. The conditions that they left behind in Honduras were such that being threatened with rifles and prison hasn't stopped them. You can't really bet the farm if the farm has already been burned to the ground. Why would they throw rocks? Because rocks are what are left them when they have run into obstacles. Thousands of troops with rifles versus hundreds of undernourished and exhausted refugees. Why would they line up for asylum in a country that would shoot them for throwing rocks?
Perhaps because America, in spite of best efforts by those who would make it great again, is where they long to be. Throw bread.
Wednesday, November 07, 2018
Tuesday, November 06, 2018
Look Out 'Cause Here It Comes
It's not my nineteenth nervous breakdown. I passed that milepost somewhere last year. In Spring. Since then it's been a series of moments of disbelief coupled with impotent rage while the country that I love has been turned into a Monopoly game. Look at those numbers! Look at that stock market! Look at all this winning!
Not winning here, sorry. Stuck in a morass of competing notions: The ones lauded by Fox News, and the "lies" spread by "Fake News." I would like, at this point, to say that I have always held a certain amount of doubt about everything that I read and see. As it turns out, Darth Vader wasn't really Luke's father. He was an actor in a costume, a guy who lifted weights for a living and also portrayed Frankenstein's Monster. And that wasn't even his voice. It was the Lion King's voice. And Luke was really that kid from Corvette Summer. We live in a swirl of information that needs to be verified.
But here's one thing that you can take to the bank: If you don't like the way things are going, you have a power that doesn't get exercised nearly as often as it should. You can vote. Vote like your life depended on it, since it turns out that it just might.
I am a fan of hyperbole, at least when it comes to exploding angry ideas held mistakenly by those who have spent too long with their heads in the metaphorical sand. Or even actual sand, if that happens to be the case. The suggestion that we are somehow Making America Great Again by creating more divides and widening the gulf between the sliver of haves and the vast majority of have-nots, or that missiles and guns are our best defense in a world that has already normalized the idea of mutually assured destruction scares me. If it scares you, vote.
Vote if you have a conscience and you are tired of being told that all is well as strains of fiddle music can be heard coming from the White House as the country burns. Maybe not all at once, but slowly turned to a cinder by ignoring climate change.
If you have spent just ten minutes in the past two years wondering how things could have taken this ugly turn, vote. Honestly, even if it never occurred to you that things have taken a nasty turn to the right and we are accelerating toward a cliff, take a moment to consider exactly how you want your city, state, county, country to look in ten years. And why not ponder this question on your way to your local polling place? Where you can vote.
That is what makes America great. And has for two hundred forty-two years.
Not winning here, sorry. Stuck in a morass of competing notions: The ones lauded by Fox News, and the "lies" spread by "Fake News." I would like, at this point, to say that I have always held a certain amount of doubt about everything that I read and see. As it turns out, Darth Vader wasn't really Luke's father. He was an actor in a costume, a guy who lifted weights for a living and also portrayed Frankenstein's Monster. And that wasn't even his voice. It was the Lion King's voice. And Luke was really that kid from Corvette Summer. We live in a swirl of information that needs to be verified.
But here's one thing that you can take to the bank: If you don't like the way things are going, you have a power that doesn't get exercised nearly as often as it should. You can vote. Vote like your life depended on it, since it turns out that it just might.
I am a fan of hyperbole, at least when it comes to exploding angry ideas held mistakenly by those who have spent too long with their heads in the metaphorical sand. Or even actual sand, if that happens to be the case. The suggestion that we are somehow Making America Great Again by creating more divides and widening the gulf between the sliver of haves and the vast majority of have-nots, or that missiles and guns are our best defense in a world that has already normalized the idea of mutually assured destruction scares me. If it scares you, vote.
Vote if you have a conscience and you are tired of being told that all is well as strains of fiddle music can be heard coming from the White House as the country burns. Maybe not all at once, but slowly turned to a cinder by ignoring climate change.
If you have spent just ten minutes in the past two years wondering how things could have taken this ugly turn, vote. Honestly, even if it never occurred to you that things have taken a nasty turn to the right and we are accelerating toward a cliff, take a moment to consider exactly how you want your city, state, county, country to look in ten years. And why not ponder this question on your way to your local polling place? Where you can vote.
That is what makes America great. And has for two hundred forty-two years.
Monday, November 05, 2018
What Are Those?
At the dawn of the sports shoe phenomenon, there was one shoe: The Adidas Superstar. In the mid-seventies, there was no glut of athletic footwear. I wore Keds to play in, and Buster Browns to school and church. Come home from school, take off school shoes and lace up the knockabouts. Which was fine for elementary school, but the advent of junior high school suggested that I would need to have a pair of shoes to wear for PE. Daily. The advent of junior high also meant that I was suddenly thrust into a pool of peer pressure that I had not anticipated. Carrying an extra pair of shoes around all day was not something that was done. Kids were now buying those expensive brand name athletic shoes and wearing them all day long.
All day long.
I took this matter to my mother, who was my chaperone in matters of sartorial splendor. Every autumn we would go shopping for school clothes, with a stop at Thornton's Shoes to pick up my Buster Browns and Keds. Which is where the plaintive whine began to emit from her middle son. "Mom, all the kids have Adidas. Why can't I have Adidias?" And so, in good faith, we went down the block to check out the sporting goods store to see just what we were getting into. When it became obvious that the price point of Adidas Superstars would buy three or four pair of Keds, I began to back down. I had grown up accompanying my mother to the grocery store, pushing the cart and acting as coupon caddy, and I understood value. And economy. These "tennis shoes" were not necessities, they were luxury items. I got that.
But my mother was listening. A week later, she returned from a trip to the mall with a pair of tennis shoes with green stripes. It turns out that Penny's was selling their own version of the Superstar. I now owned a pair. I wore them to school the very next day.
The snickers that accompanied my entrance into Centennial Junior High washed over me like a wave. How could this be? At last I fit in.
A "friend" of mine took me aside and pointed out the obvious: Adidas had three strips. My Penny's tennies had four. Anyone could see the difference. I pulled out a few valiant defenses of the value of my shoes, and how I could afford to buy two or three pair of my discount brand while they would have to save up for months to buy just one of the "real thing."
What I didn't reckon on was the strength of status symbols. I was not going to buy anything to elevate my status from Penny's. Which is probably why I ended up buying my first home stereo components from them. And I wore those shoes out. And bought another pair.
All day long.
I took this matter to my mother, who was my chaperone in matters of sartorial splendor. Every autumn we would go shopping for school clothes, with a stop at Thornton's Shoes to pick up my Buster Browns and Keds. Which is where the plaintive whine began to emit from her middle son. "Mom, all the kids have Adidas. Why can't I have Adidias?" And so, in good faith, we went down the block to check out the sporting goods store to see just what we were getting into. When it became obvious that the price point of Adidas Superstars would buy three or four pair of Keds, I began to back down. I had grown up accompanying my mother to the grocery store, pushing the cart and acting as coupon caddy, and I understood value. And economy. These "tennis shoes" were not necessities, they were luxury items. I got that.
But my mother was listening. A week later, she returned from a trip to the mall with a pair of tennis shoes with green stripes. It turns out that Penny's was selling their own version of the Superstar. I now owned a pair. I wore them to school the very next day.
The snickers that accompanied my entrance into Centennial Junior High washed over me like a wave. How could this be? At last I fit in.
A "friend" of mine took me aside and pointed out the obvious: Adidas had three strips. My Penny's tennies had four. Anyone could see the difference. I pulled out a few valiant defenses of the value of my shoes, and how I could afford to buy two or three pair of my discount brand while they would have to save up for months to buy just one of the "real thing."
What I didn't reckon on was the strength of status symbols. I was not going to buy anything to elevate my status from Penny's. Which is probably why I ended up buying my first home stereo components from them. And I wore those shoes out. And bought another pair.
Sunday, November 04, 2018
The Posse
One:
"Whoever, except in cases and under circumstances expressly authorized by the Constitution or Act of Congress, willfully uses any part of the Army or the Air Force as a posse comitatus or otherwise to execute the laws shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than two years, or both."
Two:
The current "President" told reporters that he might send up to fifteen thousand troops to the border with Mexico to deter a Central American migrant caravan slowly heading toward the United States. “We’ll go up to anywhere between ten thousand and fifteen thousand military personnel on top of Border Patrol, ICE and everybody else at the border,” his highness said.
How are these two items related? If you are wondering how the despot currently residing at 1600 Pennsylvania can get away with flying directly in the face of a federal law that has been on the books for more than one hundred forty years, then you're not alone. The most obvious response would be that the Congress is currently squarely in lapdog stage of existence coming just before a midterm election. Also, since the "President" continues to refer to the group of refugees from Honduras as "an invasion," he will most certainly whip enough dim minds into a frenzy that will allow the use of overwhelming force against a band of men, women and children who have walked hundreds of miles in order to find relief from the life they had been leading south of our border.
If fifteen thousand troops were to be deployed on that border, that force would outnumber that currently deployed in all of Afghanistan. I suppose it does allow the tyrant-in-chief a chance to visit the troops in the field, something he hasn't done yet during his term. Since there aren't a lot of quality golf clubs in Afghanistan, I suspect.
But getting back to the posse comitatus, how is this obvious assault on federal law being justified? The same way Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed. The same way laws have been broken by this administration for the past two years. The same way this nimrod got elected.
"Whoever, except in cases and under circumstances expressly authorized by the Constitution or Act of Congress, willfully uses any part of the Army or the Air Force as a posse comitatus or otherwise to execute the laws shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than two years, or both."
Two:
The current "President" told reporters that he might send up to fifteen thousand troops to the border with Mexico to deter a Central American migrant caravan slowly heading toward the United States. “We’ll go up to anywhere between ten thousand and fifteen thousand military personnel on top of Border Patrol, ICE and everybody else at the border,” his highness said.
How are these two items related? If you are wondering how the despot currently residing at 1600 Pennsylvania can get away with flying directly in the face of a federal law that has been on the books for more than one hundred forty years, then you're not alone. The most obvious response would be that the Congress is currently squarely in lapdog stage of existence coming just before a midterm election. Also, since the "President" continues to refer to the group of refugees from Honduras as "an invasion," he will most certainly whip enough dim minds into a frenzy that will allow the use of overwhelming force against a band of men, women and children who have walked hundreds of miles in order to find relief from the life they had been leading south of our border.
If fifteen thousand troops were to be deployed on that border, that force would outnumber that currently deployed in all of Afghanistan. I suppose it does allow the tyrant-in-chief a chance to visit the troops in the field, something he hasn't done yet during his term. Since there aren't a lot of quality golf clubs in Afghanistan, I suspect.
But getting back to the posse comitatus, how is this obvious assault on federal law being justified? The same way Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed. The same way laws have been broken by this administration for the past two years. The same way this nimrod got elected.
Saturday, November 03, 2018
What You Read
Believe this: I do not expect that anyone would take anything that I write here as gospel. I am a tech teacher in an urban elementary school and I teach my students about Al Gore's Internet and how it works. One of the first lessons is this: Don't believe anything you see once. I spent a couple of days politely disagreeing with a third grader who insisted that vampires were real, much to the distress of his little brother. He had seen a video on YouTube that convinced him, and that was enough. I asked if maybe he wanted to look at another website or two that might persuade him differently. On the third day, it became apparent that a parent had stepped in to put the kibosh on the stories of pointy-teeth undead roaming the streets of Oakland.
Just because you saw it on Al Gore's Internet, it doesn't mean it's real.
Which may still be a surprise to Jacob Wohl. Jacob was a teenaged hedge fund owner who ended up running afoul of several state and federal investigations, decided to become a conservative media star in his twenties. His most recent effort included a tweet that suggested that a bombshell was about to drop on Robert Mueller, media-wise. The "scandalous story" was teased, and then the following day was unveiled. The former director of the FBI was being accused of sexual misconduct. The investigators were from Surefire Intelligence, who exist primarily in the form of a cobbled-together Linked-In profile created by (here's the twist) none other than Jacob Wohl. As this shaggy dog of a story began to shed, it was revealed that "someone" had offered various women twenty thousand dollars to claim that Mueller, while an attorney in private practice in the mid-1970s, and engaged in some form of sexual misconduct. Surefire's voicemail redirects to Jacob's mom's voicemail.
So, it turns out that the scandalous story was there, just not in the way Mister Wohl may have expected it to unravel.
Which doesn't mean that Robert Mueller isn't a vampire, however.
But you don't have to believe me. Call my mom's voice mail.
Just because you saw it on Al Gore's Internet, it doesn't mean it's real.
Which may still be a surprise to Jacob Wohl. Jacob was a teenaged hedge fund owner who ended up running afoul of several state and federal investigations, decided to become a conservative media star in his twenties. His most recent effort included a tweet that suggested that a bombshell was about to drop on Robert Mueller, media-wise. The "scandalous story" was teased, and then the following day was unveiled. The former director of the FBI was being accused of sexual misconduct. The investigators were from Surefire Intelligence, who exist primarily in the form of a cobbled-together Linked-In profile created by (here's the twist) none other than Jacob Wohl. As this shaggy dog of a story began to shed, it was revealed that "someone" had offered various women twenty thousand dollars to claim that Mueller, while an attorney in private practice in the mid-1970s, and engaged in some form of sexual misconduct. Surefire's voicemail redirects to Jacob's mom's voicemail.
So, it turns out that the scandalous story was there, just not in the way Mister Wohl may have expected it to unravel.
Which doesn't mean that Robert Mueller isn't a vampire, however.
But you don't have to believe me. Call my mom's voice mail.
Friday, November 02, 2018
Words Matter
For years, I have straddled a lie. I have positioned myself as one who believes that sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me, and at the same time I know that there are plenty of names that can inflict pain. These are the lessons of youth, as well as the struggle of being human. We all know that, when backed into a corner, there are directed and aimed words that are thrown around with malice and forethought. When I think back about all the fights I have had in my life, very few of them have involved punches being thrown. This does not mean that I have not hurt anyone. This is why I have spent my teaching career educating children to use their words. Not in a harsh or evil way, but in a caring and careful way.
This means that sentences like "Your mom is so..." are not not going to help. Most of the phrases that address the other person first turn out to be challenges rather than reconciliation. The really useful ones are those that start with "I." I-Messages are something that we teach little kids to help them express complicated feelings. "I don't like it when you kick my backpack." At the same time, we are teaching children to hear those messages and heed them. This sometimes turns out to be even more difficult than the giving the message in the first place. If you are stuck in a place that doesn't allow much room between action and reaction, caring about how another person feels often gets lost in the blur of emotions that make up a day.
And every so often, it works just like it's supposed to. That is when the magic happens. Fists unclench. Brows unfurrow. Tears dry. Smiles return. And the business of the day continues. I want to believe that are the moments when our society grows stronger. Bonds are made. Peace replaces chaos.
America is a tough playground. There isn't a lot of listening going on. That makes empathy a pretty scarce commodity. Hearing the pain and making room to let the air out of hate and fear as it strains to take over all our interactions. And the understanding that it takes a lot of strength to say, "I'm sorry." Making mistakes is part of being human. We can all stand to be a little more human to each other. Use your words.
This means that sentences like "Your mom is so..." are not not going to help. Most of the phrases that address the other person first turn out to be challenges rather than reconciliation. The really useful ones are those that start with "I." I-Messages are something that we teach little kids to help them express complicated feelings. "I don't like it when you kick my backpack." At the same time, we are teaching children to hear those messages and heed them. This sometimes turns out to be even more difficult than the giving the message in the first place. If you are stuck in a place that doesn't allow much room between action and reaction, caring about how another person feels often gets lost in the blur of emotions that make up a day.
And every so often, it works just like it's supposed to. That is when the magic happens. Fists unclench. Brows unfurrow. Tears dry. Smiles return. And the business of the day continues. I want to believe that are the moments when our society grows stronger. Bonds are made. Peace replaces chaos.
America is a tough playground. There isn't a lot of listening going on. That makes empathy a pretty scarce commodity. Hearing the pain and making room to let the air out of hate and fear as it strains to take over all our interactions. And the understanding that it takes a lot of strength to say, "I'm sorry." Making mistakes is part of being human. We can all stand to be a little more human to each other. Use your words.
Thursday, November 01, 2018
How Long?
The full fury of Twitter was unleashed after our "President" suggested that armed guards at a Pittsburgh synagogue would have helped save the day. The four responding police officers who were wounded in the hail of gunfire last Saturday may have different opinions on that matter. Good guys with guns are rarely the solution to halting hails of gunfire. They tend to be victims along with the good guys without guns, since armed guards would be responding to trouble instead of going out in search of trouble.
Which seems to be the model upon which the "President" is aiming. This is a guy who seems to believe that it's best to shoot first and ask questions later. Since the shooting is over, for now, here are some questions:
What places or institutions would be safe without armed guards?
What places or institutions should be safe without armed guards?
Is there a connection between harsh rhetoric and the violence in our country currently?
Is there a place where, if an attack occurred there, you would be willing to consider gun control?
Are you troubled by the number of your supporters showing up with blood on their hands?
When will it end?
Pardon me.
Now I see that my questions have veered off into bleeding heart territory, which is of mild comfort to myself because it suggests that I do indeed have blood flowing through my heart. It is the part that makes me grieve for the victims no matter how many times we wander down this path. The obscene irony that some of the dead in Pittsburgh were old enough to remember a time when Jews were rounded up and killed because of their faith. They lived long enough to have their light extinguished by someone who wanted "all Jews to die."
One more question: When will it end?
Which seems to be the model upon which the "President" is aiming. This is a guy who seems to believe that it's best to shoot first and ask questions later. Since the shooting is over, for now, here are some questions:
What places or institutions would be safe without armed guards?
What places or institutions should be safe without armed guards?
Is there a connection between harsh rhetoric and the violence in our country currently?
Is there a place where, if an attack occurred there, you would be willing to consider gun control?
Are you troubled by the number of your supporters showing up with blood on their hands?
When will it end?
Pardon me.
Now I see that my questions have veered off into bleeding heart territory, which is of mild comfort to myself because it suggests that I do indeed have blood flowing through my heart. It is the part that makes me grieve for the victims no matter how many times we wander down this path. The obscene irony that some of the dead in Pittsburgh were old enough to remember a time when Jews were rounded up and killed because of their faith. They lived long enough to have their light extinguished by someone who wanted "all Jews to die."
One more question: When will it end?
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