Wednesday, December 29, 2010

George Carlin Died Today

June 24, 2008

George Carlin died today. He is being memorialized as an agent of the Counter Culture. It is true, I guess. I saw him in Radford, Va, at Radford Univ. in 1990. His act was unique, clever, and caustic. I liked him, but when I think "Counter Culture", I tend to think of William Burroughs, Alan Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and a few others. They were pre-Boomer, though. Carlin was 71, and his death is probably garnering this much press because of the Old Guard (Baby Boomers) still in the newsrooms of today, feeling their own mortality more keenly every day.

Is it possible that we can finally usher in the era of post-Boomer-ism? I, for one, have been calling for this for oh, let's see...about twenty years, now. I graduated from high school in 1985, and I can remember how the death of Q99 in 1980 meant a sudden loss of all things cool, drawn-out, and experimental. The industry name for that Q99 format was "album-oriented rock", or AOR. But before we knew the word, it could have really been called 'alternative'. How can anyone listen to King Crimson, The Moody Blues, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Pink Floyd, Yes, Steely Dan, Queen, Doors, Cream, The Who, Traffic, The Alan Parson's Project, Frank Zappa and The Mothers of Invention, Canned Heat, (early) Chicago, Genesis, Nick Drake, Todd Rundgren, Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Styx, Jimi Hendrix,Led Zeppelin, The Velvet Underground, Donovan, Steppenwolf, and the like, and deny that they were alternative for their time?

And there were precursors, of course. Miles Davis, always working to form his own voice, cut his teeth with other alternative artists of his time, like Charlie Parker. They formed the Be-Bop sound of jazz in the 40's. By the time Miles went solo, in the early-mid 50's, he was beginning to push the acceptable duration of single songs, allowing for unheard-of improvisational freedom. Others were experimenting in jazz, also, like Charles Mingus, Thelonius Monk, and Bill Evans. And before the age of Jazz there were others, too.

Alternative and counter-culture won't stop because of the Baby Boomers going out to pasture. Indeed, their footprint was large. (Hence the name "baby boomer", 'natch). Hell, I was just listening to the oldies station I quit from last year. Same old shit that it ever was, only sadder. The people out there who actually listen to this limp collection of rock and roll are not too far from the grave.
Maybe that's what most oldies/classic rock is best described as: "Muzak Over God's Waiting Room Speaker System" The format is yet another pitiful example of what the crowd who told us, "Don't trust anyone over thirty", has hammered into our heads for WAY TOO LONG. The same 350 songs which have been tested by lots of people who don't have to go to a job every day, streamed through the best software for maximizing a 'fresh' rotation. Most of the cadre in FM radio that's left standing is the most bitter, burned-out, blearry-eyed bunch of boomers you'd ever want to meet. Not an original thought among them.

I remember going to my boss, "Joey", the program director, for an idea I came up with. See, I was not only a full-time jock there, but also it's webmaster. I had been given some copy from the PD the day before. It was about a young child who was due for an emergency operation soon, needing a bone marrow donation. When I was uploading it to our site that night, I got into the second paragraph, and realized that he was an African American, and, thus, would be requiring donors of the same race only. Our station is Billy Joel-white, skewing white soccer moms.

So I went to "Joey" the next day about a possible life-saving idea that wouldn't have cost him anything but a quick conversation or email. Since the young boy needed only African American donors, I asked "Joey" if he would talk to the pd from another station in our cluster, The Beat, which has a sizeable audience of African Americans in the area, and offer to hyper-link my copy dealing with this call-for-action to help save this young boy's life.

"Joey" is a Boomer, having been a rock radio dj from Boston for the past thirty years before coming here. He worked at the hottest AC stations in the late 70's through to the 90's, then moved here shortly after Y2K. He's a corporate yes-man from way back, always willing to kiss the right ass and talk bad about anyone who isn't a liner jock. Those who aren't liner jocks take risks and chances on the air. It's what radio is supposed to be made of, but isn't anymore. The "Joey"'s survived by stabbing the risk-takers in the back.

I saw it happen to the best jock I ever worked with. He sailed into every break with spontenaity, freshness, and unpredictability. In other words, it was fun. He was a good smart-ass, too. Perfect attitude for American Radio. As our afternoon drive, he was easily the best jock besides the morning guy, surrounded by big market talent. He was so gifted that he could do a network-quality impersonation of Wolfman Jack. He would cut a six-hour show of "Wolfman" for the Sunday night shift.

He was excellent and creative, so, of course "Joey" had to push him out the door. "Joey" lives the persona on the air of a caring, friendly, companion for "your workday". He makes a big production out of the annual "Kids With Cancer" drive our station promoted. He makes an effort to put little kids on the air at our yearly radiothon, and stay excited and positive in front of everyone at the remote. So I thought he would pick up this opportunity to help this kid with Lukemia.

ME: Joey, you know that copy you gave me yesterday, about the kid needing a bone marrow match?"

Joey: [kinda clueless] Yeah...

ME: Well, I don't know if you read it or not, but it turns out that he's African American, and he needs donations from only African Americans.

JOEY: Uh...

ME: I've got it up on our site, but we would do a lot better for him if we had The Beat link to our site--it's easy. All you have to do is tell Scrappy to have his webmaster do it...

JOEY: [look of I-can't-believe-you'd-ask-me-that!] Uh, I don't think so. I don't have time for something like that.

And he walked off. "Time for something like that???" Joey's office is all of ten feet from the other PD's office! He knew how easy it was to offer some help for this dying boy, but because he couldn't make the effort to talk to another radio station's PD, (Joey is older, more accomplished in major markets, and sees himself as superior to the other 3 PDs in our cluster), this young kid's chances for survival were diminished.

And that's the way I see the entire Baby Boomer generation. They start off praising transcendental meditation in the 60's, tried to attach a lot of pride and righteousness to running from the Army, America, and the draft, only to become sullied, poisoned, and murderous, just like the generation they were railing against. It wouldn't be so bad if they weren't so narcissistic. All things are viewed through the lens of what they saw in their precious youth, the prism of the 60's, Vietnam, and The Establishment.

Their maturation process is stunted, having become stuck on their 18th birthday. Now that they're ready for their dribble cups, they're reverting to that tired, silly, childish attitude which they threw away for their piece of the pie in their middle years. Now that they're bent, cranky, and retiring, they can scream and bitch as if they weren't The Establishment for the past 30 years, themselves. They have turned into the "Still navel-gazing at 60", and can't even see the cliche'.

Maybe Carlin would have seen it.

Today Was Earth Day

May 27, 2008

Today was Earth Day, 2008. I first realized it when I walked into work, and our receptionist, Dianne, greeted me with an "Earth Day" kind of sentiment. I enjoyed the exchange, joking back with her that I planned on chewing some tree bark to commemorate this honorific event. I remember that those early Earth Days from the 70's usually included media footage of celebrations in (fill in the blank city), complete with hippie-strewn lay-abouts, some carrying big signs that said quasi-flower power sentiments like "Recycle" , "No Nukes", etc., and occasionally there would be placards warning of the climate problems resulting in a coming ice age.

An ice age!

What happened to those "experts" and their prediction about global…cooling? Oh, that's right. They are the same ones who today tell us that we'll be globally warming eight more degrees within ten years. Meanwhile, no apology for going on such a frenzy about chlorofluorocarbons, freon, and hair spray. No apology for being wrong about a lot of things: We were harassed about ddt to the point of banning it from our shelves, and now the rate of malaria is skyrocketing in developing countries where the American eco warriors have done their handywork. Oh, but at least the eggshells of a certain bird species may be stronger!

Coming home tonight was peaceful enough. I'm listening to a book on cd these days. It's called Widow Of The South. A lot of it is from the viewpoint of a Confederate infantryman. Instead of listening to Hannity on the way home, I decided to continue with my progress on the book. I'm on the 4th disc out of 6. The sacrifice of my normal AM show routine is no small departure, as today is the Pennsylvania primary, and I would normally be focused on any political discussion leading up until the returns tonight.

I get home about the same time most afternoons, and my dog Phoebe is always at the door, prancing around as I open the door. She's my best companion, and I don't have to feed her Prozac to be happy to see me every time I greet her. A long day of work is now over, and it's time to fire up the lcd and watch history play out.

NOTES:
Chelsea appears on stage before mom, and does the act-surprised-to-see-someone-far-into-the-crowd-then-point-at-them thing…
Bill appears slackjawed at the 12 minute mark of Hill's speech. Uncertain if he's looking at his wife or the 17 year-old supportor in a tight jumpsuit behind her…
Her speech lasted 17 minutes, fifteen too long…
She seemed as stiff and scripted as Al Gore does…
You were happy it was over finally…

Obama has a much better style than Hillary…
His concession speech sounded better than Hill's winning speech…
Only John Mellencamp and his wife were on the stage immediately afterwards…
His 17 minutes felt like 5…
He left you wanting more…

Isn't it amazing that Southern white states are the ones with the highest amount of white males voting for Obama? Yet it's true: Obama took Va, Nc, Sc, and Ga. And African Americans weren't the majority of Democrat primary voters, either. True, the African American voting bloc has voted for Obama at 92 percent in all of the primaries, but if it hadn't been for 62 percent of the white primary voters in those southern states [ALERT! ALERT! Southern White Men…gathering in numbers…details at 10pm], then Obama wouldn't be where he is right now.

So much of the real drama with what's going on right now is not being discussed, and I'm watching as much or more news than I used to. The drama isn't so much that blacks are overwhelmingly voting for an African American…it's the unavoidable reality of a demonized sect in our country-Southern White (Christian) Men—showing open-mindedness and enthusiasm for someone that conventional wisdom says, by the poor devils' nature itself, they can't.Why aren't there a lot of microphones and cameras grabbing Bubbas at every bowling alley, demanding an explanation at how they can defy mythology and prejudice like this as they actually go cast a vote for a black man?

That is the real story here.

(when will) We Shall Overcome

April 02, 2008

Most of us have experienced this: a child says to you, his or her parent, "You just hate me". This happens when you, acting as their gaurdian, decide to deny them something that they really wanted: ice cream, PS3 time, online access, etc. It is ridiculously wrong to assume that, indeed, you hate your own child, but that is how the little one feels. If he/she doesn’t get exactly what they want when they want it, then "the world is against me."Usually we grow out of this kind of immature reasoning.

Unless, of course, you have people around you who foster this kind of thinking, and you are too comfortable with blaming your shortcomings on someone else. We can find examples of this kind of immature reasoning in adult minds from time to time, but we also quickly rebuke it, usually.
Unless we are gripped by the throat with fear.

What kind of fear would keep us from telling someone that they are acting like a child? Well, simply put, it is fear of not appearing politically correct.

The Thought Police have terrorized America for the past 20 years, and the condition, unfortunately, is that of a yoke which has become all too comfortable on our necks. Want to keep your job? Well, keep your mouth shut when thinking about applying the same standard to that African American at work. You have to word things very carefully, so as not to be seen as reflecting attitudes from people you never knew 150 years ago, towards people who have never been slaves for 150 years.

Despite the mammoth amount of laws to prevent black people from being fired, excluded from purchases, or treated without respect, the convenient drumbeat continues.

Rapper 50 cent displays the mildest of reactions against white America:"I just think there’s people that might not be ready for an African-American president," he continued. "It’ll be an issue, believe it or not." "I’m not sure America is ready to have a black president," he continued. "I think they might kill him." The MC said that as a black man, "You’ve got to be conscious of racism, period. And it’s still there. We don’t deal with it as often as my grandparents did. My grandparents grew up in South Carolina, so they experienced the heart of that."

Alice Walker displays the more resentful side of African Americans. In case you forgot who Alice Walker is, she’s the one who wrote, "The Color Purple". She received a full scholarship to two different private, elite colleges, and became angry for her lot in life. You can read her bio at: http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vZW4ud2lraXBlZGlhLm9yZy93aWtpL0FsaWNlX1dhbGtlcg==

She just wrote an open letter to us all about the selection of a candidate for President Of The United States Of America. You can see it in full here: http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnRoZXJvb3QuY29tL2lkLzQ1NDY5L3BhZ2UvMQ==

Here are some excerpts to which I express my reaction:

"I made my first white women friends in college; they were women who loved me and were loyal to our friendship, but I understood, as they did, that they were white women and that whiteness mattered. That, for instance, at Sarah Lawrence, where I was speedily inducted into the Board of Trustees practically as soon as I graduated, I made my way to the campus for meetings by train, subway and foot, while the other trustees, women and men, all white, made their way by limo. Because, in our country, with its painful history of unspeakable inequality, this is part of what whiteness means. I loved my school for trying to make me feel I mattered to it, but because of my relative poverty I knew I could not."

Excuse me while I wipe away my tears. Poor Alice had to attend a college where, *gasp*, there were people who had more money than she! What a CRUEL thing to do to a woman! How clueless of me not to realize that when I was catching a bus ride in Athens, OH, to my school campus every day that "whiteness" meant that I was to ride in a limo! This is the ridiculous standard of equality that we are treated to by these child-like brains: "If I, as a black person in America, have to ride a bus or walk to my destination while white people ride in limos, then IT’S A RACIST SOCIETY!"

How does any adult reason with childish emotions like that?And pray tell, just how did "whiteness" matter in her context? Here is a woman who gets to attend a college that SOMEONE paid for (no one paid for mine. I still have $30,000 in student loans to pay back from a degree I completed 12 years ago), and upon graduation, she is IMMEDIATELY given a position on the Board of Trustees! Just WHO in America gets treated like that?

And yet Alice receives all of this privilege, resulting only in her spiteful resentment of the "system" that put her there! There is no pleasing some people! There is a great saying I learned while substitute teaching in Virginia public schools years ago. It was etched into the hall pass the kids would use: "Gratitude is the sign of a noble soul." After all that our mean, racist, evil "whiteness" has done for African Americans in this country for the past two generations, the only thanks or expressions from the benefactors is, "What have you done for me lately?"

I guess, for brains like Alice’s, if we don’t catapult all poor black people to the same income level as Bill Gates, then "AMERICA IS A RACIST SOCIETY."

"When I have supported white people, men and women, it was because I thought them the best possible people to do whatever the job required. Nothing else would have occurred to me. If Obama were in any sense mediocre, he would be forgotten by now. He is, in fact, a remarkable human being, not perfect but humanly stunning, like King was and like Mandela is. We look at him, as we looked at them, and are glad to be of our species. He is the change America has been trying desperately and for centuries to hide, ignore, kill. The change America must have if we are to convince the rest of the world that we care about people other than our (white) selves."

Oh, I see. America is supposed to be on a quest to convince the rest of the world that we care about people, "other than our (white) selves." Silly me. I’d thought that when my paycheck has many dollars taken from it every two weeks to be spent on foreign aid to practically ALL Third World (excuse me, "Developing Nations"), that I was working for a gesture of kindness to be spread to Africans, South Americans, Asians, and Arabs. But I was wrong! According to Alice, my tax dollars going to all of those black, brown and yellow folks proves just the opposite: that I only spend my hard-earned dollars at white stores, on white-produced products, in white neighborhoods.

Thanks, Alice--you really cleared that one up for me.And here’s something else that Alice illuminated for me, a Southern White Chrtistian Male: Me and my band of brothers didn’t REALLY put ourselves on the line and die for non-whites when we were in the Army. It was all an illusion: I didn’t really serve as a combat infantry soldier for 5 years in far-away lands, amongst non-white villagers. Me and my fellow soldiers didn’t really do anything special when we liberated yellow South Koreans, protected and fed black Africans in Somalia, defended Serbian Muslims against genocide in Bosnia, or any of the other far-away places we went to in order to die for their cause.

Since Alice doesn’t live in her original continent, where her own people sold her ancestors to European slave merchants, I guess she’s never felt the overwhelming gratitude of a native people who were liberated, rescued, and served by good, white men in American uniforms.

Funny how foreigners love America more than many of it’s citizens.

"I want a grown-up attitude toward Cuba, for instance, a country and a people I love; I want an end to the embargo that has harmed my friends and their children, children who, when I visit Cuba, trustingly turn their faces up for me to kiss. I agree with a teacher of mine, Howard Zinn, that war is as objectionable as cannibalism and slavery; it is beyond obsolete as a means of improving life. I want an end to the on-going war immediately and I want the soldiers to be encouraged to destroy their weapons and to drive themselves out of Iraq."

This passage is stunningly stupid. In one paragraph she manages to reveal just how deficient is her awareness of world politics: belief in Howard Zinn and helpmaid of communism. Leave it to someone who was "educated" (indoctrinated?) at Sarah Lawrence college to be unaware of the evil system known as communism, or it’s long record of murder, malaise, and decay.

To be fair to the braintrust at Sarah Lawrence, perhaps poor Alice just missed the bus to school that day when this was covered.

"I want the Israeli government to be made accountable for its behavior towards the Palestinians, and I want the people of the United States to cease acting like they don’t understand what is going on. All colonization, all occupation, all repression basically looks the same, whoever is doing it. Here our heads cannot remain stuck in the sand; our future depends of our ability to study, to learn, to understand what is in the records and what is before our eyes. But most of all I want someone with the self-confidence to talk to anyone, "enemy" or "friend," and this Obama has shown he can do. It is difficult to understand how one could vote for a person who is afraid to sit and talk to another human being. When you vote you are making someone a proxy for yourself; they are to speak when, and in places, you cannot. But if they find talking to someone else, who looks just like them, human, impossible, then what good is your vote?"

Whew...the stench from that well Alice is in is beginning to really stink. She’s so far deep into her hole that she can’t see any light whatsoever. Poor thing. She’s so racist and angry that she can’t even see an epic story for what it is.

The story of Moses and his people all the way up until now has been an amazing story of an underdog against the world. The Jews have been chased, murdered, and disrespected for four thousnd years. Whereas the Jews have always been a distinct people, with a distinct homeland, the Palestinians are a people who have constantly moved in and out of different cultures, refused entry into their own people’s nations (refugees, even. Regular studies show that "Palestinians" are discarded Jordanians, Syrians, and other Arabs. Whereas their parent nations refuse them citizenship, Jews actually allows Palestinians the right to vote in Israel.) and have resisted every attempt to establish a homeland for them also.

When the newly-formed UN tried to erect a Palestinian nation in 1948, their "leaders" refused, on the grounds that they wouldn’t put up with living next to those pigs and monkeys we know as "Jews". The surrounding Palestinians, Egyptians, Jordanians, Syrians, Iraqi, Saudi Arabians, Kuwaitis, and Algerians have waged more than four major wars on Israel since 1948, and when they aren’t trying to push the Jews "into the Mediterranean", they are waging minor wars, known as "intifadas".

But, then again, I guess I’m just a "typical white person" (Obama qoute), who is acting like I "don’t know what is going on." (Alice quote). Perhaps I should learn from such an enlightened mentor as she.

"It is hard to relate what it feels like to see Mrs. Clinton (I wish she felt self-assured enough to use her own name) referred to as "a woman" while Barack Obama is always referred to as "a black man." One would think she is just any woman, colorless, race-less, past-less, but she is not. She carries all the history of white womanhood in America in her person; it would be a miracle if we, and the world, did not react to this fact. How dishonest it is, to attempt to make her innocent of her racial inheritance."

"Racial inheritance"? "...carries all the history of white womanhood in America in her"? My, my. Just WHAT kind of "education" is that Sarah Lawrence school peddling?

I’ll tell you what, Alice: if you stop seeing all the evils of white society every time you look at my people, I’ll stop seeing all the rapes and murders that blacks have been responsible for when I look at you. Deal?

"I can easily imagine Obama sitting down and talking, person to person, with any leader, woman, man, child or common person, in the world, with no baggage of past servitude or race supremacy to mar their talks. I cannot see the same scenario with Mrs. Clinton who would drag into Twenty-First Century American leadership the same image of white privilege and distance from the reality of others’ lives that has so marred our country’s contacts with the rest of the world."

That’s (part of) your problem, Alice: you imagine too much. Sure, you can easily imagine lots of things, but Obama himself exclaimed that he would have bombed Pakistan right after 911! He didn’t say that he would "talk" to them. But details like this are unimportant when you live in a fantasy world, where everything around you is imagined (racism included). "...with no baggage of past servitude or race supremecy to mar their talks."

Here’s a little clue, Alice: we whites don’t walk around, remembering the "good old days", when we used to buy you from your own people. It isn’t something we hold onto, ya’ know? It’s not as if we’re learning anything valuable from the hateful rhetoric that too many blacks like you spew, so we’re not obsessed with concentrating on "how it used to be."

And, believe it or not, when a white American is in the position of ambassador or diplomatic attache’ to some third-world nation, the "whitey" in him or her isn’t dictating their every thought or move. We whites are mostly thinking of how to do our job to the best of our ability so that we may advance in our job capacity.

And in case you haven’t noticed, being an outright bigot is not a way to advance. Even for Condoleeza Rice, who is our present Secretary of State (that’s the office which is designated to talk to foreign leaders). And she’s black.

"And yes, I would adore having a woman president of the United States. My choice would be Representative Barbara Lee, who alone voted in Congress five years ago not to make war on Iraq. That to me is leadership, morality, and courage; if she had been white I would have cheered just as hard. But she is not running for the highest office in the land, Mrs. Clinton is. And because Mrs. Clinton is a woman and because she may be very good at what she does, many people, including some younger women in my own family, originally favored her over Obama. I understand this, almost. It is because, in my own nieces’ case, there is little memory, apparently, of the foundational inequities that still plague people of color and poor whites in this country. Why, even though our family has been here longer than most North American families – and only partly due to the fact that we have Native American genes – we very recently, in my lifetime, secured the right to vote, and only after numbers of people suffered and died for it.Imagine, if he wins the presidency we will have not one but three black women in the White House; one tall, two somewhat shorter; none of them carrying the washing in and out of the back door. The bottom line for most of us is: With whom do we have a better chance of surviving the madness and fear we are presently enduring, and with whom do we wish to set off on a journey of new possibility? In other words, as the Hopi elders would say: Who do we want in the boat with us as we head for the rapids? Who is likely to know how best to share the meager garden produce and water? We are advised by the Hopi elders to celebrate this time, whatever its adversities." "...in my own nieces’ case, there is little memory, apparently, of the foundational inequities that still plague people of color and poor whites in this country."

Sorry, Alice. It looks like you’ve thrown a pity-party, and no one is coming! Your own neices don’t have a bitterness in their hearts towards us whites, but you do! And I’ll bet you won’t let them remain happy, either.

Perhaps there’s "no memory....of the foundational inequalities that still plague people of color and poor whites in this country" because the memory is just that: a memory. If these foundational inequalities were actually a problem, then they wouldn’t need angry Aunt Alice to point them out!

And just what "madness and fear" are you suffering from, poor Alice? Just what else do you want besides your Ivory League education, celebrity life as a poet/author, and large family? Is the madness you describe something that could better be described as, "failure to assimilate"? Is the fear you describe more aptly stated as, "aversion to hard work"?

"We have come a long way, Sisters, and we are up to the challenges of our time. One of which is to build alliances based not on race, ethnicity, color, nationality, sexual preference or gender, but on Truth. Celebrate our journey. Enjoy the miracle we are witnessing. Do not stress over its outcome. Even if Obama becomes president, our country is in such ruin it may well be beyond his power to lead us toward rehabilitation. If he is elected however, we must, individually and collectively, as citizens of the planet, insist ..ing him do the best job that can be done; more, we must insist that he demand this of us. It is a blessing that our mothers taught us not to fear hard work. Know, as the Hopi elders declare: The river has its destination. And remember, as poet June Jordan and Sweet Honey in the Rock never tired of telling us: We are the ones we have been waiting for."

All hail the prophet, Alice Walker! We have come to learn the Truth about America from her trusted bossom: "Even if Obama becomes president, our country is in such ruin it may well be beyond his power to lead us toward rehabilitation." That’s it--set up the board for the next round: no way will simply electing a charlatan like this black man we call Obama really do any kind of "healing" for our black citizens.

The fight must continue! White brother kills white brother for what end? To free the black slaves! Is that enough? NO. Massive restructuring to our constitution and the creation of intrussive agncies are formed for the next 140 years to give you even MORE of a chance at the American Dream. Is that enough? NO. Ok, what if we elect a black man as president of this beautiful nation--will that be enough, Alice? NO.

You know, it’s funny. Ancient slave masters never were treated to the vitriol from their subjugated that the free great-great-great-great grandsons of the slaves inflict upon the whites of today. And that’s after the whites from the past two generations have put themselves at the back of the line for hiring, receiving education loans, and cultural respect. People who have NEVER experienced slavery or even Jim Crow laws are exacting pain and suffering from people who NEVER had anything to do with slavery or Jim Crow.

Acceptable In The 80's

January 27, 2008

"I've got love for you if you were born in the 80's", says Calvin Harris in his song, "Acceptable In The 80's". I know what he means. He was born in 1984. I'm now 40, and despite feeling the escape of my years quicken slightly, I'm far from becoming one of those stereotypical old codgers who inevitably adopts the attitude of, "Today's generation has it easy compared to mine—they don't know what it was like". In fact, I love this next generation just hitting their 20's: the Y generation. You won't catch me repeating the negative narrative our parents' generation did about my generation, the X generation.

In the 80's, there was a grey cloud over the horizon. And that cloud was a mix of Cold War fears, Aids, the proliferation of "McJobs". There were more, of course, but those are some that come quickest to mind. Some people really feared Jesse Helms, the Christian Coalition, and the Moral Majority. Others feared black helicopters, a UN takeover, and the Council on Foreign Relations. It wasn't a time of innocence and naivette', just because it started nearly 30 years ago. Sure, for a time in the early 80's it was actually fashionable for guys to roll up the bottom two inches of your jeans, which hadn't been seen in the American landscape since, yes it's true: the 50's. But that's where the myth of the 80's being some kind of 'Golden Age' repeat of the 50's ends.

When I entered my teen years in the late 70's, what you heard a lot of (if you were part of the hip "in" crowd, natch'), was this disdain, nay, condescending attitude towards this one illegitimate instrument which rock bands from Led Zeppelin to Queen railed against: the synthesizer. Why? Because the synthesizer created the facsimile of a true guitar, drum, or horn. A synthesizer compressed and recoded the trumpet's natural sound. One man could replace three (or more). For those of us who had been weened on understanding this thing we call music in two ways, the sound and the band, the thought of a couple of keyboards replacing our band was unthinkable.

The element of sound is self-evident. But the other aspect, knowledge of the band, is multi-dimensional. Personalities are involved. Egos compete. And in this aspect, it is illustrative to understand the problems of ego when you notice the divide between the Baby Boom generation and the next. The Baby Boom generation was forged from a 60's decade of deconstruction. It was the first generation to insist that it was more special than any other before it. Other generations met challenges in front of them, and answered when their country's sanctity was in peril. That is what allowed each generation to show great fortitude in improving social and economic conditions from the past.

Take the question of civil rights. When WWII was fought, there was a strong push already old by that point, to integrate the armed forces on racial lines. By 1952, there were mostly-African American units in our Army who fought in the Korean War. After the wars of the 40's and 50's were over, those men who were former soldiers were then in the Senate and Congress, affecting laws and society. The most important US legislation for African Americans in the past 100 years came about in the 1964 and 1965 Civil Rights Acts. They did away with poll taxes, literacy tests, and other barriers to full equality of access to the voting process in this great country. They also made it illegal for businesses to practice prejudice when both hiring and selling to African Americans. The same generation that stormed the beaches of Normandy in their youth grew into the ones who understood the need for a respect for the rule of law.

Survivors of D Day will tell you the truth: draftees made up a large portion of the initial bodies that ended up on the beaches that morning. Does the fact that many of them who may have had questions, misgivings at least, about our involvement with Germany (a country that hadn't done anything to us! And the US was invading-gasp-France, which also didn't have anything to do with 911, er, I mean Pearl Harbor), still put aside their fear and anger with their government and did what was asked of them mean anything anymore? Many of the Bedford Boys were drafted, as they were from farming families who couldn't easily afford to lose another set of hands. But it was those Bedford Boys who survived that horrific day who went on to be part of the clan who made the Civil Rights Acts of the 60's possible. At that time, Baby Boomers were under 25 as a generation, not in places of power such as congress or on town councils.

Our awakening into adulthood, we X-Gen'ers, was ushered in with the Baby Boomers telling us we were a bunch of "slackers". We were a do-nothing crop of brain-numbed, lazy, unmotivated youth. They were already printing nostalgic memoirs of their protest-filled 60's awakening of adolescent to adult. I read quite a few, actually. Some while I was young, myself. That's when all of that fuzzy-headed relativist cotton candy tastes best. When you don't have any idea of sacrifice, servitude, and faith in your whole being, it's easy to mock those of us who take those notions seriously. It's not all relative. And all it takes to realize that is to travel and live in a developing country for a year. Of course, for those who have never done that, this perspective may be lost. But it was important to me when I was 20 years old, entering my third year in the US Army, an infantryman being stationed in S Korea from Jan '88 through Jan '89.

It used to offend me a little to hear my parent's generation have such a low estimation of us. (now, I don't give a damn what they think of us.) My dad's cousin Jimmy belonged to the same hunting club my dad belonged to, and we would all see each other once a year during early trout season. I remember Jimmy extolling his disbelief at my generation. I was 16 at the time, and the drinking age had recently been raised from 18 to 21. Jimmy said that was bullshit, and that if it was his generation (my dad's--Baby Boomers), they'd be out in the streets about it, blah, blah. He said he can't believe my generation, taking it like that. So, in their eyes, I can see why they would consider us, "slackers".

Movies were made with those titles, books were written, and it was allowed to thrive unchallenged. But it is my generation who are the upper NCO's and officers of this latest war, (where the average age of combat death is 27 years old. In Vietnam, it was 23) and the enlistees and young seargants of the last one: the Persian Gulf I, or Desert Storm. My generation has been a quiet return to the best of American qualities: faith in something other than yourself.

We were told that our generation will be the first to be unable to achieve what the previous generation had. They were talking financially. We were coming of age when the notions of "downsizing", and "exporting of jobs" were placed in front of us. Those factors are still all over the ever-changing American domestic workplace. The proper term now is "outsourcing". To know that job insecurity will constantly be your reward until your death keeps you in need of something that enables you to meet each day with an air of gratitude and contentment...and for many it is faith. Faith in something bigger than yourself.

It hasn't been easy for the last 20 years. Moving from job to job, state to state. Relationship to relationship. Hardly time to sit and navel-gaze, wondering how I can think of a new way to protest in the streets for more.

I enjoy the largest free-market existence in the world. A startling experiment in self-government, coupled with a (mostly) free market economic engine. No other country has done so much for so many, in such a short time, while asking so little.

And finally, after a sad display in the 1960's of some of our American citizens and their lack of commitment to sharing in the responsibilities of maintaining this benevolent, reluctant empire, I am proud to be a part of the NEXT generation: a generation who didn't run and hide. I'm proud that we entered these last three wars (Persian Gulf I [Desert Storm], Afghanistan, and Persian Gulf II [Iraq War]) with a proud, determined, soulful acceptance of our place in this whole mix.

It is when you lose the ego that you can truly serve.

It's not hard to see why the Pink Floyd generation, with their Roger Waters-size egos, can't understand what the quiet, determined, focused Chemical Brothers are all about.

Half-Empty Jars

January 13, 2008

"Here, do you want to take these?" I was looking at a handful of half-empty jars of shaving lotion that my grandmother was thrusting in my face, as I sat down in the living room for the first time since he passed, earlier that morning.

"No, that's ok", I politely responded to her. Her nerves are completely shot. I am almost certain that the reason that she is worrying enough to scurry off to the bathroom to collect something as inappropriate for the moment as old, mostly-gone lotion, when I'm just about to sit down to the fact that I've lost the grandfather that I've lived with for the past three years…is because she's still in shock. And that's very understandable. She has just lost the man she's loved and lived with for 64 years.

Even though we've been prepared for this inevitability, we have been even more acutely aware of his frailty of life. He went down in the first week of September, four months ago. It was his breathing at first, but mainly his heart. It was giving out. He was flown to Health Park three times the first month, each for a weeklong stay. His prognosis was extremely grim each time, but he managed to hang on, fighting as any soldier does, emerging in a bedridden condition. He has lived the past four months on his back, in a hospital bed, in our living room. His mind was there, but his body was giving out.

There is a wash of emotions that come over you when someone that close passes. Something you think that would be met with high drama and intensity is actually calm. Sorrowful, numbing, humbling, yes. But simultaneously calm. Perhaps it's the knowledge of his long, rich life that has outlived all the odds. Perhaps it's the gratitude that his long battle is over. Life lived on your back is like a prison of sorts. The chains of emphysema and heart disease were strained against for many years, and he fought to make it for 85 years.

We have all been moving as if in slow motion for the past 4 months, running on adrenaline alone, sometimes. The needs for him were great, and the round-the-clock care was filled, mostly by my grandmother, my mother, and me. But that's what you do when you're in a family—you rally. You meet whatever task at hand you must, and think less of what impact it has on you. Days go by; everyone is clenched, nervous, and spending a LOT of energy in keeping a good front, expecting death at any minute. Then, days turn into weeks. Schedules are formed as to when to pick him up from either the bed or his wheelchair. Or from the porta-potty. That was my job, mainly. Although he'd lost some weight, he was still too heavy for my mother and grandmother to do with great care.

And weeks turn into months.

My mother lives in Va, so she had to fly down when he first went down—it hit us all pretty quickly in Sept. If she had driven, it would have required 19 hours straight on the road, and at the time, we weren't sure he would last that long. She flew back two months later, after living out of a suitcase for all of that time. He was debilitated, but stable for the time being. She stayed back in Va for about a month, then came back in early December. This time she drove.
And it's a good thing, too, because she just drove my grandmother back to Va, where they buried my grandfather yesterday.

He woke up last Tues, January 1st, saying that he wanted to "start the new year off right", by becoming more mobile than he's been for the last four months. He thought that he would try to stand up. He scooted to the edge of the bed, where my mother helped him swing his legs down to a stool at first. He sat there for many minutes, thinking. Finally, he thought better of it. Reluctantly lying back down, he resolved to try a few leg exercises instead. He tried a couple of repetitions, then quit. He complained of, "Not feeling very well."

He started getting grey soon after that. We called the EMS folks, who were there in minutes. "This time it looks bad", one of them said. We were all in the hospital within an hour after it all started that morning, and didn't leave until late in the evening. I had to work the next day, Wednesday. The prognosis wasn't good when I left, but it was undetermined as to exactly when it might happen. Hours, a day, three days…kinda like back in September, but even more certain-sounding. We found out that the loss of oxygen for the past 12 hours had damaged his brain. This wasn't good at all, of course. This was probably going to be his final passing.

I hadn't been asleep long when the phone rang. It was my mother. Very tired, and somber-sounding, she told me that it was probably going to happen soon. I said, "I'll be there in a half hour". She said no, that she and Granny were going to be leaving soon, themselves, and that there was no need to come out expecting him to be alive when he probably won't be. At almost 3am, exhausted myself, knowing I had to be at work in a few hours, I decided to concede.
Minutes went by after I hung up. I was dozing between conscious and unconscious when I was suddenly jolted awake, feeling a definite unexpected rush in my mind, a sudden increase in my heartrate. For minutes I was affected by this sudden reaction. Indefinable, but undeniable.

"They're good lotion; he had a bunch of them. Are you sure you don't want to take them home with you?", she said, her voice starting to trail off, realizing the way she was speaking in the past tense about him.

The Minefield We Walk Through

October 28, 2007

I'm the first to admit that I don't read things as accurately as I should all the time. I've been flat-out wrong about many things in my life. But all of us are guided by that "little voice" inside our head. Whether we choose to listen to it or not is another thing.

The other day I was in my company's small kitchen with three other women. We all work in cubicles throughout the day, so it feels different when you're actually grouped together with one or more people at the same time. Such times allow for a little playful interaction with each other, something to break up the monotony of the day.

It was lunchtime, and I had to leave to run some errands during my break, so I was trying to nuke my lunch, a soft burrito from WallyWorld, before I set out on my trip. Every minute counted, as I don't like to be late when clocking back in after lunch is over.

Out of the three women in the kitchenette with me, two of them were ahead of me for the sole microwave we have there. One was finishing warming up her meal, then the next one, I'll call her 'Jane', had to cook hers, then I would be next. The third woman was behind me in order.

While we were all standing there, the women started to joke with me about how they were not going to be "bumped" out of rotation for their meal, and I'd better get used to it, etc, etc. I was joking right back with them, enjoying the light banter for once. My job is such that I deal with angry, exasperated women on the phone all day, and for there to be a conversation that doesn't start with an upset tone is really a momentary blessing for me.

"Oh, I know better than to jump in line in front of you guys. I've heard you're really cutthroat about that stuff!", I jokingly replied. Two of the women were immediately laughing with me and going along with the joke, adding things like, "That's right, you better watch it", or, "Umm-hmm", and the like. But Jane's tone changed slightly when she chimed in on the lighthearted banter. "What do you mean "you guys"?"

It just so happened that out of the three women, two of them were African American. Jane was one of them.

Let me say right now that I am 40 years old, and I have been around the block a few times. I don't look for things to separate myself from others, as I've spent my life seeing the things that make us all similar to each other. As a white male, being raised in America right after the Civil Rights Acts of 1964 and 1965 were passed, I think it fair to say that I've "seen the light" when it comes to race relations. We all are overwhelmingly deluged with cultural messages which seek to continually portray my white race, particularly Southern White Males, as having "a lot further to go" when it comes to treating African Americans as equals.

It doesn't matter to the race-baiters that I was raised in a family where the 'n-word' was NEVER used. It also doesn't matter to those who see a racially-bigoted component in all facets of American life that as a young adult, I've promoted and advanced African Americans in every station of life in which I've been in a managerial position to do so. To those that are prejudiced against my race, I still am in need of being "taught a lesson" about race. I get the message, and have had to quietly deal with it my entire life.

So, when "Jane" made the exclamation about, "What do you mean, "you guys"", my internal radar immediately went off, assessing her accusatory tone. I was hoping I was wrong, frankly, in hearing what I thought I might be hearing. I have had a great relationship with "Jane" up until now, but her tone and quickness with that remark were almost unmistakable to this man of many years.

I jovially replied, without missing a beat, "Well, I mean 'you guys' who work up here with me". Jane then said back to me, "You cleaned that one up really well". Her tone was slightly less joking at this point, and it seemed to say, 'You may have gotten that one by me now, but I'm watching you'. But what, indeed, did I "clean up"? When I said, "…you guys who work up here with me", how could anyone see that as being 'cleaned up', unless a person was seeing an implied insult by referring to a group of people in my immediate vicinity as 'you guys'?

Now, I hope I've misinterpreted her implications. Like I said above, I'm guilty of misreading things in life occasionally. Some of us are plagued with a sensitive antennae, and have to always be on guard for reading "too much" into signs from people. I mean, after all, Jane could have been angling for me to say, "You women" is what I had really meant, and then the little room would have erupted into a lot of anti-woman, sexist kind of accusations instead of the racist element that ended up just hanging in the air, unclear and unrefined.

I know what I meant, and it wasn't either sexist or racist. It was just a joke that I was going along with from them in the first place. But of course, as a White Southern Male in this modern world, I don't get the luxury of defining what I mean when I talk. It's all in the mind of the minority, these days.

Ann Coulter Strikes Again

October 21, 2007

Well, Ann Coulter has done it again. The "purveyor of hate" has dared to stick her neck out again, making statements which are upsetting to the rest of the civilized world. First, she upsets the tender-hearted Left when responding to Matt Lauer during an interview on the NBC Today show:

LAUER: On the 9-11 widows, and in particular a group that had been critical of the administration:

COULTER: "These self-obsessed women seem genuinely unaware that 9-11 was an attack on our nation and acted like as if the terrorist attack only happened to them. They believe the entire country was required to marinate in their exquisite personal agony. Apparently, denouncing bush was part of the closure process."

"These broads are millionaires, lionized on TV and in articles about them, reveling in their status as celebrities and stalked by griefparrazies. I have never seen people enjoying their husband's death so much."

Then, without asking their permission first, she actually used a word that, heretofore, had mainly been used by homosexuals when exchanging comments about themselves:
"I was going to have a few comments on the other Democratic presidential candidate, John Edwards, but it turns out that you have to go into rehab if you use the word 'faggot,' so I'm - so, kind of at an impasse, can't really talk about Edwards, so I think I'll just conclude here and take your questions,"

These trespasses may be all that you can take, I'm sure. I mean, if you're as delicate and soft as the nation's left-wing bloggers are, and assume that all of us are as well, then you've already spewed your latte all over your parlor-room furniture and choked on your biscotti at the above passages. "Who is this she-devil that spews such vile propaganda and hatred?", I can hear you saying. Or, more accurately, I can hear Kathy Griffith still shrieking. Kathy appeared on the same episode of the Today show that Ann made the above statements about the 9-11 anti-Bush widows. Kathy Griffith, a darling of the Bravo channel crowd, made the absolutely best, most intelligent retort that she and her ilk could when she was trotted out after Ann's segment had ended:

"I saw that nut-bag on the show earlier. What's she doing wearing a cocktail dress at seven in the morning. She got home from the party last night. Doesn't she just make stuff up Al? Who fact checks? You can't just let Ann Coulter…"

Too bad for Kathy, I guess. No one informed her that her 'D-List" savvy wasn't going to hold up when going against an intellectual who is several stories higher than her basement-level mentality. Poor Kathy thought that after her profound insight on Today show dress code was launched, that she'd score a knockout blow with that jab about, "Who fact-checks?"
But when you're just a reactionary, you don't care about arguing intelligently.

Just ask the Left.

They can't manage to defeat this exquisite Siren we know as Ann Coulter on ANYTHING she has ever said. Ann Coulter is not just some airhead fantasy writer like Maureen Dowd. Ann got her credentials the honest way: Graduated with honors from Cornell University; earned her JD from the University of Michigan Law (serving as editor of the Michigan Law Review); clerked for the Honorable Pasco Bowman II of the United States Court of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit and was an attorney in the Department of Justice Honors Program for outstanding law school graduates; practiced law for a private firm in New York City; and she became a litigator with the Center For Individual Rights in Washington, DC, a public interest law firm dedicated to the defense of individual rights with particular emphasis on freedom of speech, civil rights, and the free exercise of religion.

A typical media-type or Washington talking head she ain't. Idiots like Maureen Dowd, Alan Combs, or Michael Kinsley aren't qualified to shine her shoes.

But that won't stop the brain-dead crew from The View from launching into Ann for her remarks during a recent interview on the Donny Deutsch show. In case you're like the other 99% of the world that hasn't seen Donny's show, you aren't missing anything. Donny showcases people who are near and dear to his heart: they're millionaires. He practically fawns over guests as they give their blow-by-blow experience with MAKING MONEY. All the way through it, Donny turns to the camera, telling us average Americans that "You can do this, too", with wide-eyed excitement and near delirious excitement.

For Donny, nothing is as important as MAKING MONEY. He doesn't understand someone who comes by millions of dollars as a by-product of doing something more important: living by their own standards. Ann is just such a person. You only have to read one chapter of her many books to understand that she is a passionate, committed, integrity-filled person, who just so happens to have made it rich because those of us in America are drawn to her pure analysis of the world stage. We buy her books faithfully. Me, included. I have every one of her tomes, and am the proud owner of one which was hand-signed by her. She doesn't have to market herself in the ways that hucksters like Donny Deutsch have made a lifetime of perfecting. She attracts millions of us loyalists by her mind only. No billboards, distributors, or slick packaging cause us to stop and buy her product.

Perhaps this is why Donny ended up turning on Ann by the end of their interview. I watched it from beginning to end, and saw Ann repeatedly try to get it across to Donny that her craft is just that: a skill. Donny kept trying to get her to divulge some simple formula which results in making the millions she does. "Being controversial sells", he kept trying to get her to say. Ann would try to rephrase his statement, correcting his shallow, materialistic analysis of what she does for a living, but he kept interrupting her—as if she was speaking a foreign language to poor Donny:
ANN:"I do what I do without calculating how I can make money from it." You could see those statements hit Deutsch between the eyes, leaving him speechless. He didn't know how to package that one.

After about three or four failed attempts to get some statement from Ann which would fit into a marketing slogan for Donny to wrap his mind around, you could hear the frustration welling up in him. He's getting to the end of his big interview with a well-known provocateur, and he hasn't produced some startling ratings-getter. Finally, he starts to sound desperate to get something, anything scandalous out of Ann:

DEUTSCH: Let me ask you a question. We're going to get off strengths and weakness for a second. If you had your way, and all of your — forget that any of them —

COULTER: I like this.

DEUTSCH: — are calculated marketing teases, and your dreams, which are genuine, came true having to do with immigration, having to do with women's — with abortion — what would this country look like?

COULTER: UMMMMM (pause) ... It would look like New York City during the Republican National Convention. In fact, that's what I think heaven is going to look like.

DEUTSCH: And what did that look like?

COULTER: Happy, joyful Republicans in the greatest city in the world.

DEUTSCH: No, no, no, no, but I'm talking about this country. You don't want to make this country — it's not about Republicans. I'm saying, what would the fabric of this country look like? Forget that the Republicans would be running the show.

COULTER: Well, everyone would root for America, the Democratic Party would look like Joe Lieberman, the Republican Party would look like Duncan Hunter —

DEUTSCH: No, no, no, I don't want — I'm not talking about politically the landscape. What would our — would we be safer? Would people be happier? Would they be more —

COULTER: We would be a lot safer.

DEUTSCH: Would there be more tolerance? Would there be — would women be happier, would the races get along better? The Ann Coulter subscription — prescription. What — tell me what would be different in our fabric of country, because —

COULTER: Well, all of those things.

DEUTSCH: I can give — I can give you an argument there would be more divisiveness, that there would be more hate —

COULTER: Oh, no.
DEUTSCH: That there would be a bigger difference between the rich and the poor, a lot of other — tell me what — why this would be a better world? Let's give you — I'm going to give you — say this is your show.

COULTER: Well, OK, take the Republican National Convention. People were happy. They're Christian. They're tolerant. They defend America, they —

DEUTSCH: Christian — so we should be Christian? It would be better if we were all Christian?

COULTER: Yes.

DEUTSCH: We should all be Christian?

COULTER: Yes. Would you like to come to church with me, Donny?

DEUTSCH: So I should not be a Jew, I should be a Christian, and this would be a better place?

COULTER: Well, you could be a practicing Jew, but you're not.

DEUTSCH: I actually am. That's not true. I really am. But — so we would be better if we were —
if people — if there were no Jews, no Buddhists —

COULTER: Whenever I'm harangued by —

DEUTSCH: — in this country? You can't believe that.

COULTER: — you know, liberals on diversity —

DEUTSCH: Here you go again.

COULTER: No, it's true. I give all of these speeches at megachurches across America, and the one thing that's really striking about it is how utterly, completely diverse they are, and completely unself-consciously. You walk past a mixed-race couple in New York, and it's like they have a chip on their shoulder. They're just waiting for somebody to say something, as if anybody would. And —

DEUTSCH: I don't agree with that. I don't agree with that at all. Maybe you have the chip looking at them. I see a lot of interracial couples, and I don't see any more or less chips there either way. That's erroneous.

COULTER: No. In fact, there was an entire "Seinfeld" episode about Elaine and her boyfriend dating because they wanted to be a mixed-race couple, so you're lying.

DEUTSCH: Oh, because of some "Seinfeld" episode? OK.

COULTER: But yeah, I think that's reflective of what's going on in the culture, but it is completely striking that at these huge megachurches — the idea that, you know, the more Christian you are, the less tolerant you would be is preposterous.

DEUTSCH: That isn't what I said, but you said I should not — we should just throw Judaism away and we should all be Christians, then, or —

COULTER: Yeah.

DEUTSCH: Really?

COULTER: Well, it's a lot easier. It's kind of a fast track.

DEUTSCH: Really?

COULTER: Yeah. You have to obey.

DEUTSCH: You can't possibly believe that.

COULTER: Yes.

DEUTSCH: You can't possibly — you're too educated, you can't — you're like my friend in —

COULTER: Do you know what Christianity is? We believe your religion, but you have to obey.

DEUTSCH: No, no, no, but I mean —

COULTER: We have the fast-track program.

DEUTSCH: Why don't I put you with the head of Iran? I mean, come on. You can't believe that.

COULTER: The head of Iran is not a Christian.

DEUTSCH: No, but in fact, "Let's wipe Israel" —

COULTER: I don't know if you've been paying attention.

DEUTSCH: "Let's wipe Israel off the earth." I mean, what, no Jews?

COULTER: No, we think — we just want Jews to be perfected, as they say.

DEUTSCH: Wow, you didn't really say that, did you?

COULTER: Yes. That is what Christianity is. We believe the Old Testament, but ours is more like Federal Express. You have to obey laws. We know we're all sinners —

DEUTSCH: In my old days, I would have argued — when you say something absurd like that,
there's no —

COULTER: What's absurd?

DEUTSCH: Jews are going to be perfected. I'm going to go off and try to perfect myself —

COULTER: Well, that's what the New Testament says.

DEUTSCH: Ann Coulter, author of "If Democrats Had Any Brains, They'd Be Republicans," and if Ann Coulter had any brains, she would not say Jews need to be perfected. I'm offended by that personally. And we'll have more "Big Idea" when we come back.

Isn't it funny when the liberal intelligentsia gets bested at their own game? Donny had to result to ad-hominem attacks against Ann, because she simply answered his Utopian question.

See, there is no right and wrong when you ask a hypothetical like Donny did, but he obviously becomes unhinged when Ann provided thoughtful, intelligent, cogent answers. Up until now, America has had to hear about what "the best that America should be", as defined by the Left.

Well, it turns out that us quiet, patriotic, Christian Americans have got just as much a vivid vision of what America should be, also. And when it comes out as beautifully as what an intelligent, beautiful woman like Ann Coulter says, they become rabid urchins, clawing and screaming that "You insulted me as a Jew".

Relax, Donny, it was a hypothetical question she was respondidng to. You're still safe in this Christian nation, ok? You're still welcome to spit on those of us who call ourselves Christian brothers of yours, who came to your rescue in WWII and gave you a safe place to make your precious money. Go find an easier interview next time.

What Is Love?

September 18, 2007

Thank God for women. Allow me to rephrase that: Thank God for my mother and grandmother, and women like them. There may be a few like them, but I'm not so sure anymore.

You know, we men think that we can do most anything at all under the sun. If we can't do it with our bare hands and our back, just give us the right tool, and we'll figure it out. This much may be true, but not everything worth living for or accomplishing can be done with a circular saw, a wrench, or a computer. We may need to admit that when this whole thing we call Life is over, the measurement of our soul's greatness won't rely on how well we fixed a car, built a house, or wrote a web application.

My grandfather has been the subject of the last few blogs on here, I know. Writing about his sudden cardiac decline has helped me get some of the emotions out of my system, to a degree. I have a good many people I call friends, and a few that I call my closest friends, but I don't completely unload all that I'm going through to these very few. They know some of the details, but they don't know what I'm about to talk about here. Only these two women, my mother and my grandmother, are the ones who are around me the most. They are showing me an example of what it is to love someone.

With the gradual failing of his heart, my grandfather is highly restricted in his movements. A wheelchair is a great blessing to him, but I have to lift him in and out of it every day. From bed in the morning to the chair, then to his soft recliner in the living room. From the recliner to his portable potty chair that we keep in the living room. From the potty chair back to the recliner. From the recliner at the end of the day to his wheelchair, then out of the wheelchair to bed again.

His progress is practically invisible, but my Granny acts like he's making great strides, and kisses his forehead with genuine love. "Honey, you're doing so much better", she says as I laid him in their bed the other night. He needs to hear that. It's an illusion that he's actually getting better, and she knows that. But this woman, who's been in his same bed with him for 63 years, and couldn't lie in front of him even if she tried, sincerely tells him how good he's doing as she excitedly leans in for a kiss.

There is no more shame about seeing my proud grandfather half naked. It's hard to still feel embarrassed when you've had to pick up a man dozens of times, sometimes with his pajama bottoms down around his ankles. Or handing him his urinal as he tugs down his waistband. Then picking him back up to scoot him him a foot back into his resting position in the recliner. The odors begin to collect, especially in this Florida heat.

The potty chair has begun to be optional, now. Stool softeners aren't having their desired affect on him. Suppositories aren't allowed anymore, due to chemical reactions with his poor heart. This is where it begins to get rough. He now feels that the only way he can expel his waste is to lay on their bed. Granny got a plastic sheet recently, and she actually assisted in his elimination the other day. She was completely unphased by it, and all I could do is to look at her with wonder and respect.
She's 85, diagnosed years ago with atrophy of the brain, contracted breast cancer 5 and a half years ago—17 lymph nodes infected with the cancer and removed—and she is completely wound up like a clock with worry at all times. But she shows nothing but love and patience through all of these grueling tasks, saving the worst of her fears and agony for when she's talking to me and my mother out of earshot of him.

She's so careful to treat him as if he was an infant, needing the most delicate of care. And she's been with this same man for 63 years. You'd think she was in their 'courting' phase, with the way that she dotes on him and never lets up. As if she hasn't already proven herself to him over, and over, and over again.

I've seen other elderly couples who bark at each other at every turn. But not her. And not him, either. I've told her many times what a love story theirs is. One for the history books, indeed. Their next-door neighbors just went through a similar ordeal. Tom passed at 89 years old, just two months ago. His wife Emily is a sweet soul who accompanied Tom everywhere. They had been married for over 50 years. His decline lasted for months. She tried to get him to eat better, but his weight just fell off of him, finally succumbing to the grim reaper while weighing maybe one-hundred pounds. She was out playing cards with her bridge club the day after Tom's funeral.

Me and my Granny kind of chuckled about that, but not for long. Poppaw's heart started to give out shortly after Tom died. Granny has been completely focused on nothing but him ever since then. The nurses came today for their scheduled visits. They got him to actually stand up, with their help for support, but that's about it. When I got in this evening I saw Granny sitting on his recliner's armrest like I've never seen her do. She was talking in soft tones to him, which is unusual for her.

I can tell the end is near.

I Support Our Troops...No, Really!

September 15, 2007

My unit from the 82nd Airborne Infantry, 1/325 Bn Mortars, has been deployed in Iraq for 18 months. I've been sending them care packages every few months. It goes without saying that I think of them as heroes. But instead of just paying them lip service, I try to put my money where my mouth is. So many American civilians have become accustomed to deluding themselves by saying the following: "I support our troops, just not the mission." And you can practically smell the smug air around them as they finish that piece of psychological acrobatics, as if to tell us, 'There. There's no way you can call me unpatriotic as I spit on this commander-in-chief and the military war machine I've always hated.'

Well, I definitely don't want to be confused with these self-righteous, dangerously-misguided Americans. When I say that "I support our troops", I really mean it. I support their mission, them, and our commander-in-chief. And I want to show it, too. Not to the idiotic Americans around me, but to the brave men of 1/325 Batallion Mortars. That's the only men who matter, to me, at this point. Trying to impress upon the leftist pacifists that this mission is more important than "weapons of mass destruction", or whether or not "Iraq caused 9-11", has become a losing battle.

It's amazing that the same people who can look ahead for the sake of a young child in Head Start, saying that if he is deprived of this pre-school program that he will live a life of diminished possibilities…can't look ahead to realize the fate of America if we shy away from answering the Islamic Fascists who have been hitting us for at least 35 years without appropriate answer.
I just received an e-mail from my unit's platoon leader the other day. His name is Captain Hank Reardon, West Point graduate. He and the platoon have recovered from a mortar attack last year that left 8 WIA (wounded in action), and 1 KIA. They have been soldiering on, unable to come home from their injuries, while some American people actually wish for our failure in Iraq so that they could smear President Bush.

Here's what Capt. Hank Reardon just wrote me:
John,
I dont really have much new to tell you. Everyday is pretty much a groundhog day for us. We got your package. It had everything on the
list, and the guys all really appreciated it. I posted your letter up and made everyone read it again. They really appreciated that too. I know one of the guys emailed you some pictures and stuff. Let me know if you want some more. They dont want any mail coming after October 1st if you decide to send anymore. Thanks again.
Sincerely,
Hank

Here's the letter I sent with this latest package that Hank was talking about:

HHC 1/325 Bn Mortars
Current Deployment

John Galt
Aug 8, 2007

Hello Men,
Thank-you once again for what you have been doing for me, our great nation, and the rest of the free world. I don't think there will ever be enough praise laid at your feet for what you do for us. This is yet another small gesture from me to try to show you what it means to us all.

There is a lot of distraction going on back here in the States concerning the upcoming election next year. Candidates from the left are flopping all over themselves to try to be all things to all people. They are saying things like "I will bring our troops home immediately in order to save them and to make our country more safe." It would be funny if it weren't for the fact that there are men like you in the middle of the fight, and a nation at home who desperately needs your bravery, dedication, and sacrifice to prevent the fight from arriving at our shores.

Hell, it already HAS arrived at our shores: Airplane hijackings in the 70's; Beirut US Marine slaughter in 1983; German nightclub bombings where off-duty American servicemen were known to hang out in the late 80's; civilian airplane bombings in the late 80's; World Trade Center bombing in 1993; Riyadh bombings, Kobal Tower bombings, American Embassy bombings, and the USS Cole attack, all in the 90's; and of course, the World Trade Center attack of 2001. All of these were committed by Islamic fundamentalists. They ALL had the same mission and goal in mind: destruction of the West/convert or die.

What you are doing will go down in the history books as a dramatic turn from how we used to respond to this terrorism. Thank God for men like you. You make me proud to be an American man, my friends. And you make me even MORE proud to be a veteran of HHC 1/325 Mortar platoon. I carry that intense pride with me to this day, 21 years after I volunteered as an Airborne Infantry soldier. I will never forget my experience there, and I will never forget you great men.

I am getting ready to graduate from night school with an AS in Microsoft Network Engineering in one month. I'm excited about my change of careers, and if I ever am in a position to hire new employees, I certainly hope that I get the privilege of accepting any one of your applications. I don't yet know where I will end up soon, but rest assured, I will never forget any of you.

Send any pics/letters you can—they are very much appreciated. I have the ones from last year's deployment still, but would love to see some new ones from your current deployment. You guys are heroes to me.

Godspeed, Men, and keep safe. Your time there is almost done. Me and millions of grateful Americans are anxious for you to return home.

Sincerely,
John Galt

The Kids Are Alright

September 14, 2007

Where I grew up, it was common to see kids living in the same house with their grandma's, great aunts, or both. I lived with my grandparents for a year in a little mountain community called Pilot when I was 8 years old. They were in their 50's at the time, and I was part of the old-time formula that said, "Children are to be seen, not heard." I remember asking my grandmother often 'why does Poppaw hate me?', because I was not used to such a stern attitude from a man who had just retired from 31 years of Army Infantry life. "Oh, Honey, your grandfather certainly doesn't hate you. He's like that because he had to be in charge of lots of men and had to keep them in line all the time. I try to tell him he needs to show his love for you boys more often", she would tell me.

I became a young boy who would actually listen to his grandpa, and do what he said, then feel bad if I didn't measure up to what he'd said. There were several times I disappointed him, but I was a child then, of course. As I got older, I was able to put things in better perspective, looking at him with a total view, instead of just the view from a waist-high kid. A lot of the blanks were filled in when I enlisted for 4 years as an Infantryman with the 82nd Airborne in Ft Bragg, NC. "Why in the world would you want to jump out of a perfectly good airplane", Poppaw would ask his 18 yr-old grandson back then. It was a common refrain that I came to hear from Army personnel who hadn't volunteered to go to jump school. Kind of a "You're nuts", comment without saying it. It had been around in the Army's lexicon for at least 40 years at that point, one that my Poppaw had said a few times himself to others before me.

I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. Too embarrassed to say something like, "To test myself". Here was an accomplished Command Sergeant Major with most every medal and badge the Army can bestow upon an Infantry soldier on his dress greens…except for jump wings,… good-naturedly asking an E-1 private why he's doing such a fool-hardy thing as to jump out of airplanes at midnight. It was a good moment for me, because, in his veiled comment, he was also saying to me, "I'm proud of you, Son". Meant a lot to me because I never heard those words from my own father.

With this backdrop, it may become more clear as to why I look at those older than me with respect. Or, at least, I try to. When I see a head full of grey hair on a man, I'm instinctively attaching a lot of respect and desire to hear his stories of bravery and valor, even though I'm 40, and have accumulated my own stories of bravery and valor in my travels. I still assume that that man has been through a lot, has interesting stories to tell, and has lead a respectful life. These naïve notions still haven't been beaten out of me, despite having lived all over the world, and having seen my fair share of things that are quite the contrary. I still have faith, yet I have a friend who is my age who hasn't ever left the state he was born in, doing the same line of work he started in as a kid, who sometimes treats me like I need to learn something about people. It's funny, but I let him talk down to me because it would be too long of a conversation to say just how shallow his perception of me really is. Plus, he's my friend.

But I quickly lose my naiveté about that anonymous grey-haired man when he opens his mouth to say certain things. Things like, "I don't know what's wrong with today's youth. They aren't taking to the streets to stop this war machine." I used to almost do a double-take when I heard these things coming out of elderly men's mouths. Back a few years ago, that is. Now, on our 6th anniversary of 9-11, it is sadly all too common to hear this alarming comment coming from men who think that they've done something patriotic or at least honorable in their lives, like 'take to the streets in protest'.

See, I'm someone who assumes that we men in America share a common experience. 'What I went through is what he went through', kind of sentiment. I assume that men in their 50's and 60's (and beyond), have done the same things to conquer their fears as I have. If they haven't served in the military as I have, then at least they have respect for the men who did sacrafice themselves for us throughout the history of our great nation. Surely they feel the same way I do when they read the same article in the newspaper, detailing the life of Jason Dunham. He is the first Marine to (posthumously) receive the Medal of Honor since the war in Afghanistan and Iraq began. Frankly, while reading the story from Peter Benesh, reporter for Investor's Business Daily, I almost started to cry. And that doesn't happen much for me.

Twenty years ago, I didn't have the perspective to understand the Aging Baby Boomer as I do now. I just wrote them off as being fun-loving hippies. I was, at most, resentful of those who treated our country with disdain as draft-dodgers, and the men and women who insulted, even spat upon, returning Vietnam veterans. See, I was in the Army with NCO's who were IN Vietnam during the war, and remained as career soldiers when the war was over in 1975. I knew those stories from many men who made me proud to be an American man.

Twenty years later, I still prefer to assume that the Baby Boomer generation has seen the error of their ways, and realized that it's best to face down your fears. 'With age comes wisdom', I still believe.

The truth is, however, despite my naivete', that as many of these Boomers get into their mid 60's and 70's, they are still holding on to the same emotions that they covered themselves with in their late teens and 20's. They haven't progressed. They haven't lead a brave life, and they probably hate themselves because of it. At the end of their lives, as they reflect on the terrible injustices they committed against our great nation, they are so weak and cowardly that they STILL can't admit they were wrong. So they turn their anger on my generation, and try to act like THEY can teach us something about being an American. It is common to hear one of these grey-haired children say, "Patriotism isn't defined as protecting this country, it's defined as PROTESTING against this country".

If that's what they need to tell themselves, so be it. The irony is that the only reason they CAN make their misguided protests against this country is because of us quiet, strong men who didn't think twice when our country needed us.

I am more proud of my X generation right now than I have ever been. When I was through with my 4 years with the 82nd Airborne Infantry, 2nd Infantry Division, and finally at the 101st Air Assault, I left with a strong sense of accomplishment, and much older than the 4 years I'd spent with the US Army. After 8 months as a civilian, who thought he was free and clear of the death-defying training I completed honorably, I received a Western Union telegram, taped to my door one day in January, 1991. It was orders to come back into the Army. I wasn't in the National Guard, the Reserves, or anything similar. I just happened to be a former infantry soldier, and as a fine print part of my enlistment, all of us men who join are part of a pool of people whom the US government can exhaust before America starts up the draft again.

I was given seven days' notice before I was to report to Ft Benning, Ga. I had no forewarning that this emergency recall would take place. It was a shock to me, my family, my girlfriend, and everyone who knew me. During that week before I was to rejoin the Army, two friends of mine from high school, a married couple by now, took me out for a short breakfast to say goodbye. What I thought was a nice gesture on their part, to show support and solidarity with me, turned into an effort to "talk me out of it".

"John, this is a war of blood for oil", I remember one of them saying to me. I was in another world, mentally, at the time. I had already started a mental preperation of fortitude and resolution. (We all know how brief that war was, now, but at the time, all we were told was that Iraq had "the 4th largest army in the world", their spokesmen were saying that they will fill the streets with "rivers of American blood", and so forth. What was in my mind was the way nerve gas kills a person. Here I was, an infantry soldier [not a cook, a motorpool mechanic, or a finance clerk], suiting up to do battle with a monster who gassed his own people. What do you think he is going to do to the infantry soldiers of the opposing Army?)

"Blood for oil?", I asked. "Do you really believe that?"

THEM: "John, it's just not right that you have to go. Couldn't you just not show up?"

ME: "Well, let me ask you something, Marc. If I didn't show up, and my brothers I served with didn't show up, who would they have to replace me with—you?"

That seemed to quiet their tone a little bit. But the look of determination and mission was still in their eyes. In another setting, I could have been mad at them. Here I was, having to suddenly quit my dream job as a DJ at a great radio station, drop out of full-time college I was enrolled in, and the only thing that my two friends here could think to say to me was their own unpatriotic notions of "setting me straight". Again, though, I was in a different world, mentally. I was preparing to do battle, and that meant that I was resolving to die. Nothing like these two in front of me was going to get me angry. I was already past them, and the cowardly impulses they were trying to fill me with.

Little has changed in my spirit or my being since those days.

If you can't see a reason to defend and protect this Great Nation, then it's because you aren't looking. If you don't see that it's best to fight these jackals in their own backyard instead of ours, then you're a fool. For a great country like ours, with all of its military technology and armament, to send in brave countrymen to do surgical, room-to-room fighting with the enemy instead of simply dropping any of the mighty bombs at our disposal…makes me weep with admiration for the men who volunteer to continue this noble fight for our way of life.

The break with our former generation, the "Woodstock Generation", is a very clean, deep, deliberate break. I will forever go to my grave looking forward at the Y Generation and beyond as the best answer to the dangerous cowardice we all had to endure from these idiotic Baby Boomers. What could have been a definite careening over the cliff for the vehicle we call America, was rescued when the X and Y generation grabbed the wheel, and steered it back on course.

Yes indeed, the kids are alright.