What click were you in? When you saw the popular student picking on the kid that looked different, or had a funny name, did you speak up for the one being picked on, or did you gather in the circle with the other losers and yell "Fight! Fight!"? Did you notice that sometimes the kid that was being picked on had a quiet dignity about them? A silent resolve that said "Give me your best shot, I can take it"? That's what we have right now, in our presidential race.
In the middle of this particular circle we have the former war hero, who has somehow resorted to such low tactics that his words are now widening a rift in this country that we've been trying to close for over two hundred years. A man that loved his country so much that he almost made the ultimate sacrifice for it once upon a time. Now he's like the deranged, estranged husband that "loves" his soon to be ex wife so much that he's got a gun to her head, threatening a murder/suicide.
The other combatant has thrown a few punches, mostly defensive and always above the belt. Unlike the usually one-sided schoolyard brawls, this time the smart kid, the one that's trying to fight fair, is actually winning.
I'm growing tired of this metaphor, but I'm down right exhausted with the way the Republican Party has conducted themselves over the last decade. Politics has always been tough, but the last ten years of brutality that the GOP has inflicted on the American public is approaching treason.
Yes, treason. It has harmed our country and made us weak in the eyes of our enemies.
I remember when I actually admired John McCain, and in fact would have seriously considered voting for him over Al Gore had he gotten the nomination back in 2000. The Bush campaign snatched victory away from the war hero by appealing to the lowest common denominator of the GOP and starting a rumor that McCain fathered an illegitimate black child. That's all it took, and the racist idiots that fell for it were strong enough in number to hand the nomination to Bush. Now it's eight years later, and McCain and his lipstick wearing pit bull are using some of the same smear tactics against Barack Obama.
I don't agree with all of Senator Obama's plans for getting this country out of crisis, but at least I've actually heard his plans, and I think he will do a good job as our next president. All I've heard from John McCain is fear mongering.
Senator McCain, I don't live in fear, and you don't scare me.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, September 12, 2008
Trying To Reason With Hurricane Season
We're as ready as we can be for what is probably going to be our last hurricane. My wife and I have sold the house and the business, and are staying with friends until we move to the Austin, TX area next week.
Hurricane Ike is currently a Category 2 storm, expected to strengthen to a cat 3 before making landfall sometime in the wee hours of Saturday the 13Th. It's one of the largest storms on record, almost as big as Texas. I helped my friend Neil hook up the generator this morning, the wives have plenty of chocolate and potato chips, I stocked up on water and diet cola yesterday, and the dogs have enough food and treats to last a few weeks. Now we wait.
I grew up on the Texas Gulf Coast, and am a little sad to leave it. I've always marvelled at powerful displays of nature, and how most people come together in times of peril despite any differences they may have. Price gougers and looters are always the exception, despite the endless news casts posing them as the rule.
Corpus Christi is just a three hour drive from our new home, so I'll be able to get my saltwater fix when the urge hits me the strongest.
Hurricane Ike is currently a Category 2 storm, expected to strengthen to a cat 3 before making landfall sometime in the wee hours of Saturday the 13Th. It's one of the largest storms on record, almost as big as Texas. I helped my friend Neil hook up the generator this morning, the wives have plenty of chocolate and potato chips, I stocked up on water and diet cola yesterday, and the dogs have enough food and treats to last a few weeks. Now we wait.
I grew up on the Texas Gulf Coast, and am a little sad to leave it. I've always marvelled at powerful displays of nature, and how most people come together in times of peril despite any differences they may have. Price gougers and looters are always the exception, despite the endless news casts posing them as the rule.
Corpus Christi is just a three hour drive from our new home, so I'll be able to get my saltwater fix when the urge hits me the strongest.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Our House, Is A Very Very Very Fine House...
I've always said, if you feel poor, move. The sheer volume of possessions that you'll have to pack will convince most of you that you have far too much stuff.
We've been packing for a couple of weeks now. The first week we felt like we accomplished something if we loaded two or three boxes a day. Now we're in the home stretch, and in the past several days alone we've filled at least a hundred boxes. Most of my stuff was packed weeks ago. I've always been somewhat of a minimalist, so much so that a Buddhist monk would probably look at my few meager possessions and think, That poor bastard.
My wife bought this place after her divorce, and raised two extraordinary girls in it. They're both young women now, and were well on their way to adulthood when I entered the picture seven years ago (this makes it very hard for me to take any credit at how well they turned out). The oldest is going to be a college professor, the youngest is still deciding between psychologist and anthropologist. One night, when we were still dating, the power went out. We had a full house; The Professor and her boyfriend The Artist, both 19 at the time, Indiana Jane, 15, and the two of us. Indiana Jane and I lit a few candles. As we walked around the house we both remarked at the large number of decorative candles in pretty much every room. Most of them had never been lit. Indiana Jane and The Professor convinced their mom that now was the time. When we were finished we appeared to have the only house for miles with electricity. As the warm glow of the soft candlelight cast shadows onto the front lawn, the five us us sat on the sofa and talked quietly, smiling as we occasionally looked around the room at what we had done. That's my favorite memory of this house.
We've been packing for a couple of weeks now. The first week we felt like we accomplished something if we loaded two or three boxes a day. Now we're in the home stretch, and in the past several days alone we've filled at least a hundred boxes. Most of my stuff was packed weeks ago. I've always been somewhat of a minimalist, so much so that a Buddhist monk would probably look at my few meager possessions and think, That poor bastard.
My wife bought this place after her divorce, and raised two extraordinary girls in it. They're both young women now, and were well on their way to adulthood when I entered the picture seven years ago (this makes it very hard for me to take any credit at how well they turned out). The oldest is going to be a college professor, the youngest is still deciding between psychologist and anthropologist. One night, when we were still dating, the power went out. We had a full house; The Professor and her boyfriend The Artist, both 19 at the time, Indiana Jane, 15, and the two of us. Indiana Jane and I lit a few candles. As we walked around the house we both remarked at the large number of decorative candles in pretty much every room. Most of them had never been lit. Indiana Jane and The Professor convinced their mom that now was the time. When we were finished we appeared to have the only house for miles with electricity. As the warm glow of the soft candlelight cast shadows onto the front lawn, the five us us sat on the sofa and talked quietly, smiling as we occasionally looked around the room at what we had done. That's my favorite memory of this house.
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