I Want Ice Water

The Michael Jackson – Ayn Rand Connection

2009-07-01T05:17:00.001-04:00

I know that I’ve said some pretty radical things on this blog, but anyone reading the title to this post must think that I’ve finally gone off the deep end. And yet it is true. Although one might expect that the two belong on opposite ends of the “serious” spectrum, there is nevertheless a link between the career of Michael Jackson and the teachings of Ayn Rand. I only wish that it had occurred to me, on more than an unconscious level, prior to having it pointed out to me in another of the many e-mail notifications I’m subscribed to.

This one came from the site known as The Atlasphere, which exists specifically for the benefit of Ayn Rand admirers. This particular e-mail was an invitation to read the article Eulogy for the King of Pop submitted by columnist Orit Arfa. I strongly urge one and all to read it, for it is brilliantly written and clearly links the value of “pop” culture to what it means to be American.

Here’s a brief excerpt:

Pop music is emblematic of a free society. It’s an American stronghold, combining the Western achievements of melody and harmony with beats inspired by African rhythms. Some people dismiss pop music as mass-marketed, pandering, and unsophisticated, but I believe pop is among the most accessible of romantic art forms.

Pop songs abide by Ayn Rand’s definition of art as “the selective recreation of reality according to an artist’s metaphysical value-judgments” — giving individuals a concise medium to recreate and share an emotional idea so meaningful to them that they must sing about it to the world.

These songs may not involve complex arrangements that spell out an expansive, philosophical view of man; rather, they give us in the matter of a few minutes a “sense of life,” which Rand defines in The Romantic Manifesto as “a pre-conceptual equivalent of metaphysics, an emotional, subconsciously integrated appraisal of man and of existence.”

Now as a person with a long history of “emotional” problems, I have know for many years that certain pieces of art can overwhelm my self-control and reduce me to what I fear would be perceived as a quivering, blubbering fool. This is the primary reason why I hide myself away from those who would not only misunderstand, but might well view my reactions as a sign of vulnerability. I’ve had quite enough of being victimized, thank you.

As I alluded to in The Last Man Standing, one of the very first pieces of art to have this effect on me was the song I’ll Be There by The Jackson 5, when I was about 14 or 15. To this day, I wonder if I was somehow able to sense, in the person of Michael Jackson, another terribly vulnerable “soul” brother. And even years later, despite our vastly different paths through them, the craziness in both our lives only helped to enhance this feeling. I can’t help but wonder if at least some of the craziness going on now because of his death is proof that there are others who feel the same way.

But by far, the most powerful such emotional reaction came when I attempted to read Ayn Rand’s The Romantic Manifesto. The very same book that Ms. Arfa refers to in her article. And I say “attempted” because, well – it’s damned hard to read through tears. Because of Ayn Rand’s death, this book will have to stand as her primary non-fiction effort to define the ultimate importance of her work to the future survival of Mankind. I knew this when I started to read it. This frustrating experience was one of the final dominoes to fall in the months before my first hospitalization and diagnosis.

And now, after years of therapy at the hands of those ill-equipped to grasp its significance, I give my most heartfelt thanks to Ms. Arfa for finally helping me to understand the link between these two experiences.

You know, looking back on it some 14 years after my first breakdown, I now know that it was caused, at least in part, by my belief that Ms. Rand’s work must be continued at all costs and my fear that I was perhaps the only one who understood, and cared, enough to try.

Fortunately for all of us, the existence of places like The Atlasphere is proof that I was wrong. You’d be pleasantly surprised at who some of the other members are. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t.

I want ice water.

You Are Valuable!

2009-06-30T10:12:00.000-04:00

Yet another great e-mail funnie:

The Senior T-Shirt!

We are Valuable!!

We are more valuable than any of the younger generations:

We have silver in our hair,

We have gold in our teeth.

We have stones in our kidneys.

We have lead in our feet.

And

We are loaded with natural gas!!!

I want ice water.

“Aliens”

2009-06-30T10:10:00.000-04:00

This movie has at least two of the most classic lines in movie history.

The first is by Bill Paxton’s character, Hudson, right after their first escape plan goes horribly wrong:

I used to have the audio clip of this as an icon on my Windows 3 desktop. When a later version allowed for it, I used it as part of my shutdown sequence.

The second is this short and powerful line by Sigourney Weaver’s character, Ripley, when she decides to take on the Alien Queen:

If those aren’t enough, here’s a highlight clip for the entire movie:

A genuine classic.

I want ice water.

“Mission To Mars” – Inspiration For Humility

2009-06-30T10:07:00.000-04:00

Arthur C. Clarke once said: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” An example of this came to me while watching Mission To Mars for the 3rd or 4th time the other day. Once again, I was struck by the awesomeness of it’s closing sequence.

I don’t care how “highly evolved” a person thinks he is, an encounter with beings that had supposedly caused our species to come into existence would have to be like encountering the Gods themselves. Talk about restoring your sense of humility!

While I haven’t exactly encountered any “Gods” lately, I have had a recent “humbling experience” that inspired me to write this article. I received an e-mail from a friend a while back describing an historic “close encounter” with the planet Mars that the Earth is supposedly about to have. I don’t recall what it was that reminded me of it, but I decided to look at it again so that I could mark my calendar. After all, who would want to miss such an historic event?

And that’s were I very nearly put my proverbial foot in my mouth – big time. I was so impressed with the images included in the e-mail, that it seemed as if I had found precisely the kind of “golden nugget” an astronomy geek “wannabe” like me should create a blog post around. So, with gleeful abandon, I rushed to get it published…

You know, I can’t really say what it was that inspired me to do the google search, although I tell myself it was to see if there were more interesting aspects to the story that I could have included. But the results of the search revealed “interesting aspects to the story” far beyond my expectations.

Apparently, this “hoax” e-mail gets updated and put back into circulation every year or so, just for the purpose of humiliating dumb-assed would be astronomy “know it alls” who fall for it. Imagine me screaming at my old hunk-o-junk to “Hurry up you slow piece of %&#$!” as I scrambled to delete the post from this blog.

I know my that friend had no knowledge of the illegitimate nature of the e-mail, but after all, the many “provocative” statements I’ve made here has already put my credibility on what some consider “shaky” ground.

I want ice water.

Behind My Eyes

2009-06-30T10:06:00.000-04:00

Can you see through my eyes? Can you feel what I feel? Can you know my history, my hopes, my dreams, or my pain? No? Then tell me, why would you expect me to be able to see the world as you see it? Why would you even pretend that I could? Do you remember that old saying that no man is an island? Well it’s just as true that no mind is a community.

I can’t “feel your pain.” I don’t “know what you’re saying,” I can only hear you speak. I really don’t “get it.” And you certainly ain’t “got me.” I can’t “lie in your bed,” or “walk a mile in your shoes.” There is no such thing as a “psychic connection.” If we really want to understand one another, then we must get down to the hard work of communicating effectively.

There are two things that I have believed for as long as I can remember. The first is that the root of all evil grows best in the soil of misunderstanding. And the second is that we can do better. If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t try so hard to be a good writer. Hell, I wouldn’t try at all. But I keep on trying in the vain hope that, by effectively articulating the life-sustaining imperative that we live our lives as rational beings, my writing will help to inspire a new age of reason.

Unfortunately, all I seem to have achieved so far is an appreciation for the mentality of the sociopath.

The Who – Behind Blue Eyes

No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it’s like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies

But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free

No one knows what it’s like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

But my dreams
They aren’t as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That’s never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

And if I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what it’s like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

I want ice water.

The Last Man Standing

2009-06-30T09:59:00.000-04:00

As I grow older, and the count of those I’ve lost grows higher, I’m reminded of a frightening thought I had as a child.

I’ve seen them come, and I’ve seen them go
Yet I, alone, remain
Through all the pain and tragedy
The song remains the same

It echoed down through all the years
And through all the lands of man
That siren song that warned about
The coming of our last stand

But no one heard, and no one cared
Until it was all too late
Then came the time when hope was lost
And we accepted our terrible fate

So I’ve watched them go, friend and foe
Our numbers dwindling fast
’til the numbing pain of watching man’s end
Left me alone at last

Now all their ashes have blown away
Yet, somehow, I remain
With only the pain of tragic loss
And the song that remains unchanged

If you can’t quite imagine how a child could have such a vision, then you need to read more of my stuff. But I will give you a little hint:

I want ice water.

The Larger Picture

2009-06-30T09:57:00.000-04:00

Ever get the feeling …

… that you’re not the one calling the shots?

I want ice water.

Assembly Line Medicine

2009-06-25T00:09:00.001-04:00

Here’s a new forwarded e-mail funnie:

Doesn’t it seem more and more that physicians are running their practices like an assembly line?

Here’s what happened to Bubba:

Bubba walked into a doctor’s office and the receptionist asked him what he had.

Bubba said, ‘Shingles.’

So she wrote down his name, address, medical insurance number, and told him to have a seat.

Fifteen minutes later a nurse’s aide came out and asked Bubba what he had.

Bubba said, ‘Shingles.’

So she wrote down his height, weight, a complete medical history, and told him to wait in the examining room.

A half hour later a nurse came in and asked Bubba what he had.

Bubba said, ‘Shingles.’

So the nurse gave Bubba a blood test, a blood pressure test, an electrocardiogram, and told him to take off all his clothes and wait for the doctor.

An hour later the doctor came in and found Bubba sitting patiently in the nude and asked Bubba what he had.

Bubba said, ‘Shingles.’

The doctor asked, ‘Where?’

Bubba said, ‘Outside on the truck. Where you want me to put ‘em??‘

I want ice water.

My Dysfunctional Personality

2009-06-24T22:25:00.000-04:00

The subject of Borderline Personality Disorder came up during a recent on-line conversation. That’s when I remembered finding out, to my surprise, that my complete diagnosis actually includes that one too. I’m not sure if it’s because my doctors just don’t have the time to go into all of their findings with me, or what, but I never would have known at all if not for having a “friend with access” who provided me with a complete printout.

Amazingly enough, I’ve never gotten around to dragging an explanation out of my doctors. Between the fact that there were more than one little “mystery” in that printout, and having to reveal just how I had come across the information in the first place, I simply could never figure out how to go about it.

Prior to this on-line conversation, I hadn’t thought about my “mystery” diagnosis for years. But once my curiosity was aroused I decided that I wanted to know more. So I finally clicked on a link in one of the e-mails I get on a regular basis from various mental health related sites, and after a little more clicking, came across an interesting New York Times article that provides some fascinating insights into an often misunderstood condition.

What I found so fascinating was the fact that the definition for Borderline Personality Disorder is so broad that it not only includes my symptomatology, but also that of other members of my own family that I wouldn’t have thought shared the same illness I did. If you’ve read the other articles in the My Life series, then perhaps you can understand my amazement.

For example, the article says:

People with the disorder are said to have a thin emotional skin and often behave like 2-year-olds, throwing tantrums when some innocent word, gesture, facial expression or action by others sets off an emotional storm they cannot control. The attacks can be brutal, pushing away those they care most about…

and:

In an effort to maintain calm, families often struggle to avoid situations that can set off another outburst. They walk on eggshells, a doomed effort because it is not possible to predict what will prompt an outburst. Living with a borderline person is like traversing a minefield; you never know when an explosion will occur.

While the part about having a “thin emotional skin” may certainly fit in with my symptoms, there are members of my family that this entire description fits to a tee. To this day, I have a very difficult time being around them because the stress of having to “walk on eggshells” is just too much for my fragile mentality to deal with.

But “family history” plays such a large role in mental health issues that I have always wondered if there is a common link between my illness – that I have decided to recognize and deal with – and the obvious issues that my family has never even been willing to acknowledge. Fortunately, the article addresses that as well:

… affected individuals seem to be born with a quick and unduly sensitive emotional trigger. The condition appears to have both genetic and environmental underpinnings. Brain studies have indicated that the emotional center of the nervous system — the amygdala — may be overly reactive, while the part that reins in emotional reactions may be underactive.

As children, people who will develop the disorder are often “hyperreactive, hypervigilant and supersensitive,” Valerie Porr, a therapist in New York, said in an interview. Typically they receive a host of misdiagnoses and treatments that are inappropriate and ineffective.

“Some children need more than others in learning to regulate their emotions,” said Marsha M. Linehan, a psychologist at the University of Washington who devised the leading treatment for borderline disorder.

“These kids require a lot of effort to keep themselves emotionally regulated,” Dr. Linehan said in an interview. “They do best with stability. If the family situation is chaotic or the family is very uptight, teaching children to grin and bear it, that tough kids don’t cry, these children will have a lot of trouble.”

Finally, I’m beginning to see the whole picture. “Hyperreactive, hypervigilant and supersensitive” absolutely describes both myself and other members of my family. And if there was a picture of my family in some “encyclopedia of dysfunctional families,” the caption would read: “An uptight and chaotic situation, where children are taught to ‘grin and bear it’ and ‘tough kids don’t cry.’”

In the end, I guess the only thing that really distinguishes us is that part about “a lot of effort to keep themselves emotionally regulated.” While it has cost me more than I ever expected, I’m the only one out of my entire family who tried to model his behavior on the example set by Star Trek’s Mr. Spock. Of the limited choices my childhood provided to me, I’ve chosen to just be cool.

To read the full article: An Emotional Hair Trigger, Often Misread.

I want ice water.

The “Human” Stage

2009-06-24T00:07:00.005-04:00

When Pink Floyd said, “I was just a child then, now I’m only a man,” they were hinting that we tend to dismiss our failings by minimizing our capacities. Being the idealistic fool that I am, it disturbs me when bad behavior gets written off as “merely human,” especially when the one doing the “writing off” is also the one who has behaved badly. Even when motivated by more “altruistic” concerns, I’m still disturbed that we demand so little from ourselves and each other. And no matter how good we’ve become at settling for less, I have to ask: How has our trying to cheat our way through worked out for us?

An unfortunate fact of reality is that our abilities to conceal, ignore, pretend, and steal help out a lot when dealing with those who would do us harm. And I’ll bet that those same abilities were very useful in all of those hostile environments that our species have had to evolve through. But another unfortunate fact is that those same abilities have also been the root cause of all human conflict. And while we may still face many “natural threats,” the most undeniable fact of all is that, in today’s world, we are our own worst enemy.

As I said in my article, It’s Nature’s Way Of Telling You Something’s Wrong:

But the laws of God or Science (your choice) use volcanism and weather to maintain the Earth’s energy balance. They also use famine and disease to maintain the Earth’s wildlife population balance. And despite our apparent belief that mankind is above the law, those same forces provide the means to keep us in check as well.

It’s called War….

The fact that we have such a knack for behaving badly, combined with that behavior having been so instrumental in getting us to where we are, might lead some to think that we’re locked into a fatal “Catch-22″ that will inevitably result in our destruction. I have to admit that I swing back and forth between excepting that we truly are fated to destroy ourselves, and what I’m afraid is a hopelessly idealistic faith that we can work things out. Considering the epic numbers of prescriptions being written for depression and other anxiety related illnesses, I think that I have more than a little company in that regard.

In a comment thread on What side of your Brian do you use?, I said (talking about yoga):

Building up my strength, balance and flexibility sounds good. Maybe it’ll ease my mind from thoughts like “Peace from the type of troubles we have is going to require another step in our evolution.”

Could it be that we must grow beyond the “Human” stage in our evolution in order to survive yet another great threat to our existence? We’ve done it before. Can we do so again quickly enough to avoid extinction?

Perhaps it’s as they say, “Timing is everything.” What do you think?

I want ice water.

The Woman of My Dreams?

2009-06-24T00:05:00.000-04:00

So Hot… So Talented…

So Patriotic?

I want ice water.

Heroes: When A Soldier Comes Home

2009-06-21T19:41:00.001-04:00

While this forwarded e-mail contains some pretty good humor, the content demands that it be placed in my Heroes Hall of Fame. Amidst all of the turmoil in the struggle for liberty going on in Iran and other places around the world, this e-mail serves as a reminder that we still have many of our own people up to their necks in the struggle too – overseas and at home.

The people ahead of me in the chain included some nice quotes before sending it to the next link. I’ve added my own in last-comes-first order.

“He who is the author of a war lets loose the whole contagion of hell, and opens a vein that bleeds a nation to death.” – Thomas Paine

“Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.” – Unknown

“In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.” – Bill Cosby

“We cannot all do great things in life, but we can all do small things with great Love.” – Mother Teresa

WHEN A SOLDIER COMES HOME

This email is being circulated around the world – please keep it going.

When a soldier comes home, he finds it hard…

…to listen to his son whine about being bored.

…to keep a straight face when people complain about potholes.

…to be tolerant of people who complain about the hassle of getting ready for work.

…to be understanding when a co-worker complains about a bad night’s sleep.

…to be silent when people pray to God for a new car.

…to control his panic when his wife tells him he needs to drive slower.

…to be compassionate when a businessman expresses a fear of flying.

…to keep from laughing when anxious parents say they’re afraid to send their kids off to summer camp.

…to keep from ridiculing someone who complains about hot weather.

…to control his frustration when a colleague gripes about his coffee being cold.

…to remain calm when his daughter complains about having to walk the dog.

…to be civil to people who complain about their jobs.

…to just walk away when someone says they only get two weeks of vacation a year.

…to be forgiving when someone says how hard it is to have a new baby in the house.

The only thing harder than being a Soldier…

…is loving and worrying about one.

I was asked to pass this on and I will gladly do so,

Will you???

I want ice water.

Heroes: Thomas Paine – Our Forgotten Father

2009-06-21T07:53:00.003-04:00

In today’s jargon, Thomas Paine would be called a right-wing hawk by those who disliked him for advocating revolution in France and later in America, and would be called a left-wing rabble-rouser by those who disliked his stances against slavery and organized religion, not to mention his advocacy of a social contract. Yet this country was founded upon the ideals of freedom from tyranny and oppression, and Thomas Paine was truly one of The United States Of America’s greatest founding fathers. It is an absolute travesty that we only hear about him these days when some politician borrows one of his powerful quotes to further his own political ambitions.

The intro on the Thomas Paine page of ushistory.org says:

“These are the times that try men’s souls.”

This simple quotation from Founding Father Thomas Paine’s The Crisis not only describes the beginnings of the American Revolution, but also the life of Paine himself. Throughout most of his life, his writings inspired passion, but also brought him great criticism. He communicated the ideas of the Revolution to common farmers as easily as to intellectuals, creating prose that stirred the hearts of the fledgling United States. He had a grand vision for society: he was staunchly anti-slavery, and he was one of the first to advocate a world peace organization and social security for the poor and elderly. But his radical views on religion would destroy his success, and by the end of his life, only a handful of people attended his funeral.

By the time Paine came under the tutelage of Benjamin Franklin in 1774, he had failed at just about everything he tried, with the one exception being the publication of The Case of the Officers of Excise in 1772, where he wisely argued for a pay raise for tax collection officers. But with the publication of Common Sense in 1776, in which he made a most persuasive argument for American Independence from England, and then The Crisis series of pamphlets from 1776-1783 to help inspire the Army, Thomas Paine became one of the most important figures of his time. According to ushistory.org, The Crisis series “as a percentage of the population … was read by or read to more people than today watch the Super Bowl.”

After returning to Europe and pursuing other ventures, including work on a smokeless candle and an iron bridge, he wrote The Rights of Man in 1791 and 1792 in defense of the French Revolution. This caused him to become an outlaw in England and to flee to France to avoid arrest. He was then imprisoned in France by 1793 for speaking against the execution of Louis XVI. He used his time in prison (1794-1796) to write and distribute the first part of The Age of Reason, in which he railed against organized religion. He narrowly escaped execution and was freed in 1794 thanks to the efforts of U.S. Minister to France James Monroe. He returned to America on an invitation from Thomas Jefferson in 1802, only to discover that his contributions to the American Revolution had been all but dismissed because of his religious views.

A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong gives it a superficial appearance of being right – Thomas Paine

Every science has for its basis a system of principles as fixed and unalterable as those by which the universe is regulated and governed. Man cannot make principles; he can only discover them – Thomas Paine

The World is my country, all mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion – Thomas Paine

He that would make his own liberty secure, must guard even his enemy from opposition; for if he violates this duty he establishes a precedent that will reach himself – Thomas Paine

To say that any people are not fit for freedom, is to make poverty their choice, and to say they had rather be loaded with taxes than not – Thomas Paine

Government, even in its best state, is but a necessary evil; in its worst state, an intolerable one – Thomas Paine

If we do not hang together, we shall surely hang separately – Thomas Paine

I have chosen to include Thomas Paine in my Heroes Hall of Fame because, of all the founding fathers, the views he expressed in his writing most closely resemble my own. I fear that we, as a nation, have forgotten him at our own peril.

I want ice water.

The Sin of Sloth

2009-06-21T04:38:00.000-04:00

I was channel surfing earlier this evening when I came across an episode of Biography’s The Seven Deadly Sins. This one was about The Sin of Sloth, and it revealed to me some things about my own condition that I was not aware of. As if I actually needed more reasons to feel pissed off and outcast in this Hell on Earth global nuthouse.

Never having been one for religion, I had always assumed that the sin of sloth referred to people being too lazy to work or to maintain good personal and household hygiene. But apparently that’s only part of it. The sin of sloth also has to do with the causes of such laziness, such as having a weak moral character and being depressed – which many today still think of as being synonymous – and the things those causes lead to, like criminal activity and suicide. Apparently this is the reason the religious folk claim that sloth is the second most deadly sin.

As one who has suffered from depression for many years, I can see how others can confuse my lack of motivation with laziness. After all, I make no effort to “get out and meet people” yet still complain about being so terribly alone. And since I don’t anticipate being around anyone I care to impress, I’m not exactly what you’d call “diligent” when it comes to personal hygiene (I can’t stand an unkempt house, however). But I challenge anyone to label what’s important to me, my writing, as the work of a “lazy” person. And as far as having “a weak moral character” is concerned, I think the subject matter of my writing speaks for itself.

Now I have known lots of people who, just like me, don’t work. And yet most of them have no problem whatsoever when it comes to taking care of their personal hygiene or “getting out and meeting people.” Hell, as far as I can see, there’s nothing in the world more important to them than “feeling good, looking good, and looking for love.” And yet few of them seem to give a damn about cleaning their house and taking care of the property they live in and depend upon. So while you could argue that neither of us have much to show for our time on this Earth, you certainly can’t say that that has anything to do with who we are inside. So much for depression being synonymous with having a weak moral character.

If you’ve read the articles in the My Life volume of this blog, you’ll know that I do have some experience with the subjects of crime and suicide. So the question becomes: was it depression or having a weak moral character that led me to those things? Or perhaps more fundamental questions should be asked: if having a weak moral character and/or being depressed are such horrible personality traits, then why is suicide considered to be the worst sin of all, and why are all those religious folk so determined to prevent it? Why on Earth would they want us to stay?

I have to admit that I really wasn’t certain of where this would end up when I started writing. But then I guess that’s why writing is so therapeutic for me. All I knew when I turned on my old hunk-o-junk was that what was said on the TV show pissed me off, and I needed to deal with it. But now that I’ve worked it through, I’m left with one inescapable, if sickeningly familiar, conclusion: The prohibitions against Sloth and Suicide are “moral” justifications for human bondage.

Every culture that has ever existed has had at least one thing in common: the need for an “underclass” who can be blamed for the all the failings of that culture and who can be forced to do all that culture’s dirty work. Who better to blame for a culture’s lack of success than those who are “unproductive?” And who better to force into menial labor than those who are “shiftless” and “lazy?” Is this starting to sound familiar yet? Haven’t we all been taught that religion is both the “founding” and the “civilizing” force of our societies? What could be better than a justification for slavery that only a “heathen” would argue against?

I’ve spent my whole life resenting people because they’re all too willing to let me do their thinking and their work for them, and resenting religion because it tries to rob me of my individuality and my self-esteem. The problem with this logic is that it has lead me to erroneously think that I’ve been waging a war of two fronts, when the fact that over 95% of people are religious means that I’ve actually been battling an enemy with two faces. Like the character “Two Face” from the Batman comics, who swung from being the best kind of person one moment and the worst kind the next, the real enemy is the one who wants to be the slave-master but is willing to settle for selling his brother into bondage instead.

Now I know that we’ve come a long way since the days of treating those who suffer from depression as if they were possessed by demons, but it’s clear that some degree of animosity, disbelief, and distrust towards those so afflicted still exists, especially within the “less enlightened” segments of society. And it’s also true that the current age of “enlightenment” has brought with it every manner of “snake oil” salesman promising a pricey cure to a very vulnerable group that includes both the afflicted and those who care for them. Perhaps the lunatics are indeed running the asylum.

And now I think that it’s only proper that I include some lyrics from Pink Floyd:

Brain Damage

The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
Got to keep the loonies on the path

The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
The paper holds their folded faces to the floor
And every day the paper boy brings more

And if the dam breaks open many years too soon
And if there is no room upon the hill
And if your head explodes with dark forbodings too
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon

The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
You raise the blade, you make the change
You re-arrange me ’till I’m sane
You lock the door and throw away the key
There’s someone in my head but it’s not me.

And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
And if the band you’re in starts playing different tunes
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon

“I can’t think of anything to say except…
I think it’s marvellous! HaHaHa!”

I want ice water.

Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert

2009-06-20T01:42:00.001-04:00

Other than crude oil, which, in historical terms, only recently became of significant value, just what the hell is worth killing over in middle eastern countries like Israel, Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan? Do all of these countries even have significant oil deposits? And when you consider the environmental impact, perhaps the value of oil itself has become somewhat “crude.”

Just thinking about it makes me so angry that a little Pink Floyd has become an absolute necessity:

Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert

Brezhnev took Afghanistan
Begin took Beirut
Galtieri took The Union Jack
And Maggie over lunch one day
Took a cruiser with all hands
Apparently to make him give it back

The Fletcher Memorial Home

Take all your overgrown infants away somewhere
And build them a home
A little place of their own
The Fletcher Memorial Home for incurable tyrants and kings

And they can appear to themselves every day
On closed circuit TV
To make sure they’re still real
It’s the only connection they feel

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Reagan and Haig
Mr. Begin and friend
Mrs. Thatcher and Paisley
Mr. Brezhnev and party
The ghost of McCarthy
The memories of Nixon
And now adding colour
A group of anonymous Latin-American meat packing glitterati”

Did they expect us to treat them with any respect?

They can polish their medals and sharpen their smiles,
And amuse themselves playing games for a while
Boom boom, bang bang, lie down you’re dead

Safe in the permanent gaze of a cold glass eye
With their favourite toys
They’ll be good girls and boys
In the Fletcher Memorial Home for colonial wasters of life and limb

Is everyone in?
Are you having a nice time?
Now the final solution can be applied

Southampton Dock

They disembarked in 45
And no one spoke and no one smiled
There were too many spaces in the line

Gathered at the cenotaph
All agreed with hand on heart
To sheath the sacrificial knifes

But now
She stands upon Southampton dock
With her handkerchief
And her summer frock
Clings to her wet body in the rain

In quiet desperation knuckles
White upon the slippery reins
She bravely waves the boys goodbye again

And still the dark stain spreads between his shoulder blades
A mute reminder of the poppy fields and graves
And when the fight was over
We spent what they had made

But in the bottom of our hearts
We felt the final cut

I want ice water.

Heroes: Joan of Arcadia

2009-06-19T23:16:00.001-04:00

As someone who has frequently railed against concepts like “God” in this blog, my choice of Joan of Arcadia for admission to my Heroes hall of fame will probably come as a surprise to many. Well, it’s like this: you don’t get to choose the source from which beautiful inspiration comes.

Like a powerfully deep and frequently humorous admixture of the mythology’s of Joan of Arc and Job, the character Joan Girardi suffers through more than the usual teenage high school misadventures while attempting to accomplish the missions she is sent on by a God that simply refuses to be ignored – and who just happens to appear to her in the guise of whatever incidental person she can be seen talking to without drawing the attention to her plight that she so desperately craves. All of the characters are soul-deep and brilliantly played.

And best of all, the fabulous assortment of God characters are stunning for both their “un-Godly” appearance and for their wonderfully insightful dialog. I tried, but was unable, to get an actual count of the many incarnations of God that appeared in the show. Trust me, there were quite a few!

When, in perhaps the most series-explanatory episode, Secret Service, principal Price discovers Joan holding an empty egg carton near his freshly egged car, he wrongly assumes she’s the culprit and punishes her with a weekend of community service. She can’t, of course, tell him that it was God as Goth Kid that suggested that she should help clean up to prevent anyone from getting hurt. With no more direction from God than to “rise above the injustice,” Joan tries to figure out if she’s meant to help a former girlfriend of her brother Kevin, a bitter former nun named Lilly who is overseeing the service project, or one of the social outcasts who are there serving as a result of their own offenses.

er reluctance to have sex with her boyfriend, Adam, is driving a wedge between them. Adam is afraid that his sexual interest in Joan has driven a wedge between himself and his art teacher, Joan’s mother. Joan’s mother is questioning her value as an art teacher after having had her department’s budget cut by the evil principal Price. Kevin, Joan’s wheelchair-bound bother, has withdrawn from any hope of a meaningful love-life after his breakup with the aforementioned Lilly. And Luke, Joan’s ultra-nerd brother, is devastated at not having won a much-coveted science geek award.

After all is said and done… Luke learns that the true reward for his efforts comes from the work itself when he meets another great but unrecognized mental giant while filling in for Joan at the bookstore. His girlfriend even takes him to the restaurant that he would have been taken to had he won the award. When Adam visits Joan at the community service center in an attempt to apologize for having lied to her in order to give himself space to think, he meets Bonnie, a troubled but talented young artist that helps to restore some meaning to both his and Joan’s mother’s life after he introduces the two and the girl is invited into their art class. And Kevin is reunited with Lilly when she runs into Kevin’s car while driving Joan home. Kevin’s brakes had failed because their father insisted that he could “fix” them, and Lilly broke the ice by wise-cracking “Whatcha bitchin’ about? You’re already crippled!”

Having no awareness of all the good that has resulted from her “weekend in purgatory” – or of the impending trouble caused by Adam taking a bite from the “apple” named Bonnie – Joan confronts God:

In the final two episodes, Common Thread and Something Wicked This Way Comes, God tells Joan that her last two years were just a kind of “boot camp” to prepare her for her greatest challenge, which is to go toe-to-toe with a man who also talks to God – and has a sinister agenda…

Ryan Hunter is mysterious, charming, wealthy and influential. The guy even saved Adam when he was lost in the woods during a storm. And he too talks to God. But the guy definitely has a dark side, along with a clear distaste for the almighty. And what’s up with the wind blowing whenever he’s around? And despite Joan’s stated misgivings about him, he somehow has managed to endear himself to those that she cares about – and without whom she feels helpless to fight back.

Call it God’s plan, or fate, or whatever, the fact is that the breakup with Adam, and the seismic shift that has occurred within her little circle in the aftermath, all came about because of Joan’s willingness to carry out God’s little assignments while keeping them totally in the dark. No matter how you slice it, Joan has been set up for the battle of her life – perhaps for all our lives – at a time when her faith, in herself, in her companions, and in her God, is at an all time low.

But while Ryan Hunter apparently has the newspapers, the police, and even the school board, in his pocket – even as he acts to destroy everything Joan and her friends holds dear – Joan is not without her own inner arsenal which begins to reveal itself just when she needs it most. And she is most definitely not alone!

I know that I’m not alone in regretting CBS’s decision to cancel this series. Perhaps the producers couldn’t find a way to convince the network that there was an audience for an apocalyptic battle between the “Antichrist” and a teen aged girl. I don’t know. What I do know is that this series has provided me with more opportunities than I can count for deep reflection about the relationships between people and the powerful, if hard to see, impact that all our actions have.

I try very hard to remember these lessons whenever I see this blog’s sorry statistics.

I want ice water.

Watch That Doggy Door!

2009-06-19T21:57:00.000-04:00

Another great e-mail funnie:

Way too cute not to post.

This hit the 6 o’clock news big time in Maryland recently. The owner came home to find a visitor had made himself right at home…

Can you imagine coming home from work to find this tiny creature napping on the couch with your dog? It followed this beagle home, right through the doggy door.

I want ice water.

“Supreme” Leader?

2009-06-19T21:54:00.000-04:00

Mention of Iran’s “Supreme Leader” always

invokes my childhood memories of this guy:

But the sad reality is more like:

I want ice water.

Show Me, Don’t Tell Me

2009-06-17T09:03:00.001-04:00

As a follower of the Objectivist teachings of Ayn Rand, I naturally have an interest in what others are saying on the subject. And just as I have, there are many other voices pointing out how those teachings are more important now than they have ever been. That is because the Objectivist philosophy represents the only clear path to achieving a truly moral society, and I could not agree more with those other voices. However, those other voices also cry out for a strengthening and renewal of the so-called “Objectivist Movement.” On this point, unfortunately, I must beg to differ.

Just like every other attempt at “group-think” in history, the Objectivist movement is doomed to failure because, by definition, “group-think” is a collectivist endeavor. The real benefits to mankind from the Objectivist philosophy have come and will come in the form all such benefits have taken: as side effects of actions taken by individuals working for their own self interest. And while it may be comforting to have others with whom we can commiserate and share war stories, any attempt to forge a “union” from such a group of radical free thinkers is destined for a very embarrassing public failure.

One needs only to look at the current state of the Libertarian Party to see what I mean. I believe that the Libertarians are all good and well intentioned people, but an example of Objectivist thinkers working well together they most definitely are not. How does appearing to the world like a bunch of loonies help to promote the Objectivist philosophy? “Collective Individualism” is a contradiction in terms.

As has always been the case, it’s the “show me, don’t tell me” strategy that will get the job done. To emphasize this point, I submit the lyrics to Show Don’t Tell by Rush – one of the world’s foremost proponents of Ayn Rand’s teachings:

How many times do you hear it?
It goes on all day long
Everyone knows everything
And no one’s ever wrong
Until later…

Who can you believe?
It’s hard to play it safe
But apart from a few good friends
We don’t take anything on faith
Until later…

Show…don’t tell…

(Show me, don’t tell me) … You’ve figured out the score
(Show me, don’t tell me) … I’ve heard it all before
(Show me, don’t tell me) … I don’t care what you say
(Show me, don’t tell me)

You can twist perceptions
Reality won’t budge
You can raise objections
I will be the judge
(And the jury)

I’ll give it due reflection
Watching from the fence
Give the jury direction
Based on the evidence
I, the jury

Show…don’t tell…

(Show me, don’t tell me) … Hey, order in the court
(Show me, don’t tell me) … Let’s try to keep it short
(Show me, don’t tell me) … Enough of your demands
(Show me, don’t tell me) … Witness take the stand
(Show me, don’t tell me)

Show…don’t tell…

(Show me, don’t tell me) … Hey, order in the court
(Show me, don’t tell me) … Let’s try to keep it short
(Show me, don’t tell me) … I don’t care what you say
(Show me, don’t tell me) … Let’s see exhibit A
(Show me, don’t tell me) … You’ve figured out the score
(Show me, don’t tell me) … I’ve heard it all before
(Show me, don’t tell me) … Enough of your demands
(Show me, don’t tell me) … Witness take the stand
(Show me, don’t tell me)

I want ice water.

Products for the Deranged

2009-06-17T08:59:00.000-04:00

This is an excerpt from a recent E-mail funny:

How’s about a new doorbell…

To get into the place where they have this in the bathroom…

I want ice water.

Heroes: Pinky and The Brain

2009-06-17T08:55:00.001-04:00

And now, in yet another example of my brilliant insight and over-arching good will Oh shut up!, I present the next nominee for my Heroes Hall Of Fame: The Brain and Pinky Shut up I say!.

First there is The Brain, who is without doubt the most intelligent mouse that has ever lived, and who just happens to speak in a voice not unlike that of the great Orson Wells. So what if he has a few issues of social dysfunction like wanting to take over the world. Don’t we all have our little follies?

And then there is his faithful sidekick, Pinky, who while not being quite the shining example of stunning intellect represented by The Brain, nevertheless manages to bring a certain human-like charm to this tail. And besides, he reminds me of that voice inside my head that helps prevent me from trying to take over the world. What? I swear that it’s my own voice! Oh will you please shut up! Sometimes I swear I’ll blow my own head off just to get some peace and quiet! Naarf!

And now I’m off to plan for our, er, my next great adventure! Shush! You know what I’m talking about. Of course I know they can hear me! And don’t call me Shirley! What do you mean that’s a whole other character? Oh shut up! Naarf!

I want ice water.

Just Don’t Get It, Eh?

2009-06-15T22:10:00.002-04:00

As self-explanatory as the title to this blog seems to me, I know that there must be those of you who wonder. Well I’m sorry, but I just don’t have it within me to make it any clearer. But fear not, for help is at hand.

While seeking support for my ailing vanity – which is, perhaps, a big part of the problem – I recently did a Google search for “I want ice water,” and amongst the zillions of unrelated listings I got back was this gem: People In Hell Want Ice Water

Please don’t misunderstand my reasons for providing this link, as I’m not looking to get into some insane conflict here and I have no more hard feelings for these people than I do for anyone else stuck in this global nuthouse. In fact, I love their logo and think that the group photo is quite appealing.

The fact is that living in a global nuthouse affects each of us in his own unique way. It’s just that, for me, this link seems to do what my own words cannot.

I want ice water.

TV News Anchors

2009-06-14T19:12:00.000-04:00

Have you ever noticed that, no matter how good your mood was when you started out, just a few minutes of TV News can bring you crashing down to Earth?

Perhaps I misunderstood what they meant by “Anchor”

I want ice water.

What Is Love?

2009-06-14T13:39:00.000-04:00

What is love? Hell, just like everyone else, my life has seen me alternate between being absolutely sure that I’ve got a complete grasp of the subject to being absolutely, and very uncomfortably, convinced that I haven’t got a clue. In an effort to represent these extremes within myself, I present the lyrics from one of my all-time favorite love songs and a video that clearly speaks for itself.

The song is Nights Winters Years from the album Blue Jays by Justin Hayward and John Lodge. The music is on the associated playlist.

Pain, sorrow, tears
Long, lonely years
With love
Having passed me by
I could live a lie for you
But truth is the road I choose
Knowing all I need to do
Is give to you

Down, down down
Where your dreams are found
They’re sleeping inside of us all
They’re sleeping inside of us all

Nights, winters, years
Pain, sorrow, tears of mine
Cannot hold me now
I’m a fool to fall for you
But here
In the morning light
Tell me how can love be wrong
And feel so right

And from the movie A Night At The Roxbury:

I want ice water.

Power!

2009-06-14T13:28:00.000-04:00

While politics is always in the news, these days the political news seems to be at a fever pitch. Even this far after the history making elections of last year, the so called “battle for hearts and minds” rages on – in this country and around the world. Lately it’s been about the “radical right” and it’s influence here in the U.S., the resurgence of the conservatives in Europe, and the recent elections in Lebanon and Iran.

More than ever, the news from the political front reminds me of the song Power by The Temptations. Here are the lyrics and, as usual, the song is on the blog playlist.

My hands are clean, my heart is so pure
The world is sick, I am the cure
I don’t want money, or golden gifts
Give me your minds and souls to lift

Put your faith and trust in me
I’ll move your mountains, part your seas

All you poor, all you needy
All you’re doing, is giving to the greedy
All you poor, all you needy
All you’re doing, is giving to the greedy

Get off your knees, believe in me, I’ll set you free
All I need is a little
Power
I must have it
Power
Power
Power
Power
Power
Power

I have for you, a master plan, (tell it)
I’ll lead you to the promised land
I’ll give you peace (peace)
I’ll give you pride (pride)
I’ll save you from the suicide

I’m your hope
Your one salvation
I’m your one man united nation

All you poor, all you needy
All you’re doing, is giving to the greedy
All you poor, all you needy
All you’re doing, is giving to the greedy

Tell me your sins, I’ll be your friend, I won’t do you in
All I need is a little
Power
Power
Power
Power
Power
Power
Aahhh!

I’ll make you all, the master race
Just put me in my guarded place
We must work down on our feet
In the fields of oil and the lands of wheat

Power
More
Power
I want it
Power
More
Power

One thing I must make perfectly clear
Power
Nuclear weapons all men fear
Power
Their hands sweat, their fingers itch
Power
I’m the only one you can trust with the switch

Give it to me
Power
Power
Power
Power
Power
Give it to me
Power
More
Power
Give it to me
Power
More
Power
I need It
Power
Got to have it
Power
I must have it
Power
More
Power
Give it to me
Power
More
Power
Give it to me
Power
More
Power
More
Power
More
Power
More
Oh Whoa!
POWER!

I want ice water.

Reruns and Memories

2009-06-14T13:25:00.000-04:00

I’m not sure why, but for whatever reason I find it difficult to watch re-runs of some of my favorite, if now defunct, TV shows. This is especially true for comedies. But sometimes there’s nothing else on so I watch one, and almost always end up wondering why I’d been denying myself the chance to renew a pleasure that I had sorely missed. A case in point is WKRP In Cincinnati. A ball game I was watching the other night was in a rain delay and I needed something else to watch that I wasn’t likely to get so wrapped up in that I forgot about the game, and WKRP was playing on the very next channel. Well I ended up watching two episodes back-to-back and missing the resumption of the game. I actually think the time was better spent.

Now I have no idea what the inner workings of a radio station are really like, but I do know that when I watched that show regularly I couldn’t imagine a better job than being a disc jockey. Getting to hear the latest releases before the world at large. Being myself before a huge audience while I’m actually alone in a protective shell of technology. Having an audience that actually wants to hear what I’m playing. What could be better than that? But watching WKRP In Cincinnati also brought back a great memory of an experience I had with a real, also now defunct, local radio station.

It was back in the late 90s and I was just beginning to come to grips with “my terrible illness.” Having been declared “unemployable” because of my reluctance to deal with the world outside my home, I had spent well over $4000 of my “retirement money” on computer equipment that I intended to use for a home-based business providing graphics and printing services to small businesses, as well as computer training to the neighborhood kids. Unfortunately, operating a business, any business, requires that you actually engage in an effort to gain clientèle, so I ended up mainly creating a lot of things to print out on my fancy new $750 color ink-jet printer.

Now don’t get me wrong, I was quite proud of the philosophical pronouncements and song lyrics – with graphics – that I was producing, but they hardly justified the enormous expenditures required to produce them. And trust me, having only a dial-up connection to what was then a very primitive world wide web didn’t help when it came to doing research. Unlike today, there weren’t zillions of sites to go to to get the lyrics for songs, so I reproduced them mainly from memory. And when memory failed, I reproduced them by listening to my old vinyl records over and over again until I was satisfied.

But I was stumped when it came to Don McLean’s American Pie. Like so many other “one hit wonders,” I hadn’t bothered to actually buy the record, so I was attempting to reproduce the lyrics entirely from memory. Unlike the therapeutic value I had gotten from mentally working out the lyrics to other songs, my attempt to do this with such a long and complicated song had rapidly become an exercise in self-torture. But like the fabled monkey with his fist in the jar, I simply could not let it go. Which is what gave me the idea to call up a radio station for help.

I think the station was called “Arrow” or something like that. They specialized in playing classic rock from the 60s and 70s, and seemed the perfect place to call for help. Unfortunately, the guy I talked to told me that their broadcasts were pre-programmed and that they only did requests on an infrequent basis. I guess he caught the disappointment in my voice upon hearing that, so he asked me what was up. Without really meaning to go into such detail, I told him about the depression and how I used working through the lyrics to my favorite songs as a kind of therapy.

Well to my absolute amazement, the guy actually offered to play the song for me over the phone, using a cassette deck he had in his office. He went even further by offering to rewind and replay all or any part of the song until I was happy. Needless to say, I will never forget his understanding and his generosity. I only wish I could remember his name.

I’ve included the lyrics to this song below (downloaded this time – I lost the ones I worked out long ago). I’ve also included the song itself on the associated music playlist.

American Pie by Don McLean

A long long time ago
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they’d be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn’t take one more step
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died

{Refrain}
So bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die
This’ll be the day that I die

Did you write the Book of Love
And do you have faith in God above
If the Bible tells you so
Do you believe in rock ‘n roll
Can music save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to dance real slow
Well, I know that you’re in love with him
‘Cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym
You both kicked off your shoes
Man, I digged those rhythm & blues
I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died

I started singin’
{Refrain}

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone
But that’s not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the King and Queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
And a voice that came from you and me
Oh, and while the King was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned
And while Lenin read a book of Marx
The quartet practiced in the park
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died

We were singing
{Refrain}

Helter Skelter in a summer swelter
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
It landed foul out on the grass
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast
Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the Sergeants played a marching tune
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance
‘Cause the players tried to take the field
The marching band refused to yield
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died

We started singing
{Refrain}

Oh, and there we were all in one place
A generation Lost in Space
With no time left to start again
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
‘Cause fire is the Devil’s only friend
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in hell
Could break that Satan’s spell
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

He was singing
{Refrain}

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before
But the man there said the music woudn’t play
And in the streets the children screamed
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died

And they were singing
{Refrain}

They were singing
Bye-bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my chevy to the levee
But the levee was dry
Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singin’ this’ll be the day that I die

I want ice water.

I’m Not That Flexible

2009-06-14T13:22:00.000-04:00

I’ve just finished watching a recording of this past Sunday’s episode of In Plain Sight. It was about a bridge designer who had to go into witness protection after testifying that a bridge that had collapsed and killed many had had it’s design changed by the builder. The sad ending to the story, and why it hit me so hard, was that the man realized that the collapse of the bridge had less to do with the changes the builder had made than it had to do with a logical error he himself had been making throughout his career.

In the end, he stood on the first bridge he had ever built – now packed with explosives and wired to a dead man’s switch in his hand – explaining to the shows stars why it had to end this way. He said, “I just can’t go from being a man who was never wrong to being one that was never right. I’m not that flexible.”

Man, I can relate to that. Pride is a very powerful thing.

I want ice water.

Speech Therapy

2009-06-14T13:20:00.000-04:00

This article has been inspired by a rerun of Boston Legal where Alan Shore started having these bouts where his usually well conceived and colorful manner of speech came out of his mouth as pure gibberish instead. Being a lawyer renowned for his eloquent oratory, he was understandably concerned. While discussing the problem with his partner Denny Crane, he revealed that, other than Denny himself, his words were his only real friends. This struck me like the proverbial lightning bolt.

As anyone who has read my ramblings before would know, I have a certain fondness for using lots of words, in what I hope has been a well conceived manner, to precisely get across the ideas I want to express. My readers will also not be surprised to read that I have a rather large ego. The fact is that my large ego – the very essence of me – revolves around my love for using precise language to express my thoughts. So I hope you can understand why Alan’s problem struck home with me.

I had already been fascinated by the slow progression of Denny’s Alzheimer’s disease – what he calls his “mad cow.” As someone with a big ego and a history of mental illness, the idea of losing ones faculties is frightening enough. But to add in the prospect that I could be speaking with what I thought was my usual brilliance only to have everyone within earshot look at me as if I’d gone stark raving mad… Well that’s a truly terrifying prospect indeed.

The truth is that I’m no where near as good live as I think I am on paper (screen?), but I think you get what I mean. Since no one knows what the future will bring, I guess the thing to do is to speak (or write) about the subjects that are important to me while I can. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

I want ice water.

Speaking Of Dreams...

2009-05-30T19:47:00.003-04:00

Readers of this blog should be well aware that I’m not much for things religious, supernatural, paranormal, or superstitious. I’ve written much on these subjects in general, and about the influence that people who did believe in such things had on my youth. But until my recent Oh I Dreamed Last Night… article, I had written very little about my own actual experiences with such matters. In this article, I want to explore this just a little bit more.

The fact is that I’ve had many, many experiences that can be fit into these categories, with the vast majority being similar to what I described in the Oh I Dreamed Last Night… article. But unlike most, I prefer to maintain an open mind about these things rather than get into a lot of senseless speculation about what these experiences mean. After all, there are many rational explanations that can quickly reduce these experiences to nothing more than hallucinations and fanciful dreams. But they are interesting nonetheless.

One such experience started a few years ago when I had to be hospitalized due to a severe case of pancreatitis. Since I had already been diagnosed with the disease, and had been previously hospitalized (in intensive care) because of it, I was smart enough to recognize that I needed help when the symptoms came again. But from the point where they were wheeling me in to get a bed assignment to the point where I awoke from a medically induced coma (in a different hospital) some three weeks later, my memories are only of a series of very bizarre “dreams.”

I won’t attempt to recall the specifics of these dreams – after all, I could give only fractured reconstructions, other than to say that they involved extremely realistic experiences of living other lives in other worlds. So realistic were these experiences – so beautiful, so painful, and so awe inspiring, that I felt the most extreme sensation of loss that I have ever felt in my life when the doctors decided to bring me out of the coma. So shocking was my return to the “real” world, that even those in the room when I awoke could feel it. I know, because they told me so.

Obviously, what I experienced can easily be dismissed with a variety of “natural” explanations. The fact that I continue to experience such dreams can be just as easily dismissed for the same reasons. But I do continue to have them. And that’s also a fact.

I think that Heart’s These Dreams does a pretty good job of expressing some of the emotion I feel about this subject:

Spare a little candle
Save some light for me
Figures up ahead
Moving in the trees
White skin in linen
Perfume on my wrist
And the full moon that hangs over
These dreams in the mist

Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time
On a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all I remember
Are the dreams in the mist

These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away

Is it cloak ‘n dagger?
Could it be spring or fall?
I walk without a cut
Through a stained glass wall
Weaker in my eyesight
The candle in my grip
And words that have no form
Are falling from my lips

These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away

There’s something out there
I can’t resist
I need to hide away from the pain
There’s something out there
I can’t resist

The sweetest song is silence
That I’ve ever heard
Funny how your feet
In dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist

These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away

But perhaps When You Wake Up by Justin Hayward & John Lodge is a little more specific:

Now as we speed a little faster through the stars
To this new world of ours
With the seed that the garden requires

And as we drift a little further from the shore
Like the sea evermore
I’m the ivy that clings round your door

When you wake up
You will find
That you’re not where you left yourself

Ahhhh…
Ahhhh…

Now as we drift a little further down the stream
Was it all what it seemed
Was it true, was it real?
Or just a dream?

When you wake up
You will find
That you’re not where you left yourself

Ahhhh…
Ahhhh…

Now as we speed a little faster through the stars

Ahhhh…
Ahhhh…
Ahhhh………

I want ice water.

Song and Dance

2009-05-30T19:40:00.001-04:00

I’ll now continue to use the mask (”somebody stop me”) of anonymity that this blog affords me to once again expose some of the inner workings of my admittedly twisted mind. Previous readers are no doubt aware of my affection for including lyrics from relevant songs in my articles, and would probably not be surprised that I’ve always wanted to be a singer. In actual fact, I’ve often fantasized about performing on stage in front of an audience of adoring fans.

But the sad truth is that no matter how great a singing talent anyone thought I was, I’d never have the nerve to actually get up in front of people and do it. Not even for an audience consisting of my closest family and friends. And this “shyness” also applies to dancing in front of people, even though I know – at least intellectually – that almost no one would notice. To gain some insight into the effect that my unwilling to dance has had on my life, you should give a read to my Love, Loss, Anger, and Faith article.

But my shyness certainly hasn’t prevented me from “performing” in private. Sure, I know that everyone sings along to their favorite songs. But I doubt seriously that anyone has gotten more enjoyment, not to mention psychic relief, from doing so as I have. And while my private dancing is much closer to “performance art” than anything you’re likely to see on a dance floor, I’d be willing to bet that no one on a dance floor gets the enjoyment and release I get from it. Being the extreme “homebody” that I am, it’s probably my only real source of exercise.

In an attempt to provide a feel for the “psychology” of my private sessions, I’m including the lyrics from two songs that I think act as great references for it. The first is Sing Child by Heart:

Sing child sing
Sing child sing

Melody Maker
Giver and taker
Heartbreaker
He want to sing I know
Try it again
Sooner or later
He gonna break down and sing

Sing child sing
Sing child sing

Holy junkie
Funky monkey
Everybody calls him honey
He gonna sing I know
He don’t want to play that game
He gotta play that game
Oh, honey, honey, honey,
You got to come down and sing

Sing child sing
Sing child sing

Dreamer
Machiner
What will you ever do when you blow a fuse
Don’t want to stay here
Honey roll
Sooner or later
You’ve gotta break down and sing

Sing child sing
Sing child sing

The second is I hope You Dance by Lee Ann Womack:

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
GOD forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance…. I hope you dance.

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Livin’ might mean takin’ chances, but they’re worth takin’,
Lovin’ might be a mistake but it’s worth makin’,
Don’t let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to sellin’ out reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

I hope you dance…. I hope you dance.
I hope you dance…. I hope you dance.
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone.)

I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you’ll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

Dance…. I hope you dance.
I hope you dance…. I hope you dance.
I hope you dance…. I hope you dance..
(Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone)

Finally, I’d like to address the fact that those who know me have always wondered about my willingness, as a man, to be so open with how I feel about things. In most cultures, certainly the African-American culture in which I was raised, such openness is considered to be a “female” trait. But those who know me are well aware that I am not “gay” and don’t behave in any other way that might be considered “feminine.” It’s just that I’ve grown up surrounded by men that I consider to have been badly damaged by their inability to rationally express their emotions. But I’d be lying if I said that this has not had an impact upon me as well. Hell, I’m practically a hermit.

Anyway, I think that Pink Floyd’s Paranoid Eyes provides some more insight into this issue:

Button your lip and don’t let the shield slip
Take a fresh grip on your bullet proof mask
And if they try to break down your disguise with their questions
You can hide hide hide
Behind paranoid eyes

You put on your brave face and slip over the road for a jar
Fixing your grin as you casually lean on the bar
Laughing too loud at the rest of the world
With the boys in the crowd
You hide hide hide
Behind petrified eyes

You believed in their stories of fame fortune and glory
Now you’re lost in a haze of alcohol soft middle age
The pie in the sky turned out to be miles too high
And you hide hide hide
Behind brown and mild eyes

I want ice water.

Oh I Dreamed Last Night...

2009-05-29T20:17:00.002-04:00

This is a partial reconstruction of a dream I had one night.

“Well that was a bust, wasn’t it?”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.”
“Give yourself some time to recuperate.?”
“And to reflect.”
“You’ll feel better then.”
“But I really thought that I’d get it right this time!”
“Where have I heard that before?”
“From me.”
“And me.”
“And me.”
“And me as well.”
“How do you keep going back, when it ends like this?”
“Because every time through gets us a little closer.”
“To becoming what we want to be.”
“What we’re meant to be.”
“You have to admit that you’ve advanced quite a lot.”
“But I screwed up so much, and left so much undone.”
“Well, considering the limited timespan…”
“And with what little we carry forward…”
“The steps are incremental by necessity.”
“But worthwhile in the end.”
“Well it’ll be a while before I try again.”
“You’ll get bored soon enough.”
“And filled with ideas on how to do better.”
“You won’t be able to resist.”
“We never can.”

And speaking of dreams, I’m reminded of I Dreamed Last Night by Justin Hayward & John Lodge from their Blue Jays album:

“Oh I dreamed last night I was hearing, hearing your voice
And the things you said well they left me, left me no choice
And you told me we had the power
And you told me this was the hour
That you don’t know how
If I could show you now?

Well I dreamed last night you were calling, calling my name
You were locked inside of your secrets, calling my name
And you told me lost was the key
And you told me how you long to be free
That you don’t know how
Oh let me show you now

Like a bird on a far distant mountain
Like a ship on an uncharted sea
You are lost in the arms that have found you
Don’t be afraid
Love’s plans are made
Oh don’t be afraid

If there’s a time and a place to begin love
It must be now
Let it go
Set it free

Oh I dreamed last night I was hearing, hearing your voice
Why did you say those things that have left me, left me no choice?
When you told me we had the power
Why did you tell me now was the hour?
But you don’t know how
Oh let me show you now

Like a bird on a far distant mountain
Like a ship on an uncharted sea
You are lost in the arms that have found you
Oh don’t be afraid
Love’s plans are made
Don’t be afraid

If there’s a time and a place to begin love
It must be now
Let it go
Set it free

Oh I dreamed last night I was hearing, hearing your voice…”

I want ice water.

Heroes: Ayn Rand and “The Fountainhead”

2009-05-29T11:55:00.001-04:00

Ever since I created the Heroes category for my articles, I have felt the need to write one about my ultimate hero: Ayn Rand. The problem has been, as any of my readers know, my reverence for this great human being is evident throughout this blog. Finally, I realized that an expansion upon what inspired that reverence in the first place was in order. And that was her book The Fountainhead.

In my Opening Rant article, I described the book as “the story of a man [Howard Roark] who stood against the merciless tide of collective humanity out to destroy him for his unwavering stance in favor of his individual right to live as a free man – by his own standards and at his own expense.” That statement remains accurate, and yet leaves so much unsaid. To help fill that gap, I want to discuss what I think was a glaring error in the making of the movie version of the story. Now I know that others who love the book will be quick to point out that saying the movie had one error is a gross understatement, but I think all would agree the other mistakes pale in comparison to this one: Leaving out the part of the story that is most essential to understanding Rand’s message – even to understanding the story’s title – the fountainhead itself!

In my paperback copy, the book’s teaser says that “man’s ego is the fountainhead of human progress.” One point of story is to show that, in the real world, men like the character Ellsworth Toohey seek power over men through the destruction of their egos. Howard Roark, the architect, is the ultimate symbol of what a pure and unbridled human ego can accomplish, so he must be destroyed if Toohey’s plan for the conquest of man is to be achieved. To that end, Toohey browbeats simpleton rich-guy Hopton Stoddard into hiring Roark to design the Stoddard Temple of the Human Spirit – all the while planning to make a mockery of the temple using the power of the press to influence the masses who are unwilling to think for themselves.

But Howard Roark convinces Steven Mallory to sculpt the temple’s fountainhead statue using Dominique Francon as the model. Steven Mallory had tried to kill Ellsworth Toohey because, on an unconscious level, he recognizes the absolute evil that he represents. Roark chose him however, not because of his history with Toohey, but because he was the only artist equal to the task assigned to him by Roark’s vision. And Dominique Francon, in mentality, appearance, and stature – if not faith, was the living embodiment of what the temple was designed to pay homage to. Neither Francon or Mallory could hide the fact that they lived in dreadful fear of the power they thought Toohey had to destroy Roark. But in spite of their trepidations, the greatness of his vision was too much for them to resist.

The most important thing to understand about Roark, you see, is that in all the world he is the only one to recognize that, ultimately, Toohey is as insignificant as a bug on the windscreen of the vehicle of man’s forward-moving spirit. Even after Toohey’s media blitz caused the temple to be all but demolished and the reputations of everyone involved to be covered in slime, he remains unfazed. Even after those who loved him turned away in shame for having participated in what they thought of as his destruction, his only emotion was disappointment at their lack of faith.

As it did in the book, having that back story in place in the movie would have added so much to what I think is quite possibly the most memorable scene in the story: when broke and temporarily unable to find work, Roark is approached by Toohey one night while wandering the streets looking at projects under construction by other builders.

After starting with the usual Toohey-speak designed to induce fearfully-respectful babbling from most, Toohey finally asks: “Mr. Roark, we’re alone here. Why don’t you tell me what you think of me? In any words you wish. No one will hear you.”

In response, Roark’s answer is both short and sweet: “But I don’t think of you.”

I want ice water.

My Three Sons

2009-05-06T14:39:00.005-04:00

This article is not actually about my sons. The title is an intro to the metaphor I’ll use to describe the dangers of government interference in the free market as it relates to the auto industry. Besides, I liked the TV show.

I actually do have three sons. Let’s say that they each independently operate businesses that compete with each other to provide the same products and services. Let’s further say that, while operating their businesses in difficult economic times, two of the three businesses find themselves teetering on the brink of failure.

Continuing this scenario, the sons facing these dire consequences – knowing how much I love them and want them to succeed – come to me for help. They each remind me of the noble ambitions with which they started their businesses and the successes that they’ve had over the years. They also admit to the failures in foresight that have led to their predicaments. But they both plea on behalf of their families, and their workers, and their worker’s families, and their customers, and the workers and families of their suppliers – all of whom would be devastated by the failure of their businesses.

Tell me, just what is a poor caring father to do? Should I dive right in with everything I’ve got in an effort to save my sons and all of those who are dependent upon them? Or should I as they say, “keep it real” and remind them of the big ugly real world picture that shows that they and the ones they care about don’t exist in a vacuum, and that any action I take on their behalf affects not only them but the rest of reality as well?

Should I point out to them that they have a brother whose business is also facing tough times and yet is not at my door seeking salvation. Should I point out that any help I give to them would in essence give them a competitive advantage over their brother, and those he cares about, who is just as deserving of my love, loyalty, and help as they are? Should I remind them of just how unfair it is for them to put me in such a position in the first place?

What’s a poor caring father to do? What’s a government to do? The fact is that GM and Chrysler are crying for help and Ford is not. I don’t pretend to have any economics expertise, but it’s clear to me that Ford has more faith in it’s efforts to survive these hard times than does Chrysler and GM. It’s also clear to me that the taxpayer monies being used to help GM and Chrysler comes from every taxpayer, including those who work for and/or invest in Ford. You do the math.

I want ice water.

Tolerance… Not! Smoking

2009-05-03T14:36:00.000-04:00

At the risk of wasting even more of my precious breath, I want to talk about the new taxes being levied against us smokers. No, I’m not going to try to defend smoking - I know it’s bad for me. Blah, blah, blah. Instead, I want to defend my right to be treated as an equal in this society. An equal who should be free from the “targeting of convenience” mentality that seems to be running rampant in cash-starved government revenue agencies.

Being a cheapskate on a fixed budget I make my own cigarettes, so having the price of a 16oz bag of tobacco go $18 to $44 seems a wee bit EXCESSIVE to me. Regardless of all the babble about encouraging us to stop and using the money to fund health care efforts, we all know that this is nothing more than a grab for cash from a group who isn’t “popular” enough for anyone to defend. Hell, I’m probably one of the few smokers even willing to speak out. But before you dismiss me a just another nut fighting a lost cause, take a minute to allow me to add some reality to the issue.

First of all, what will happen to all those poor people whose health is being “saved” with this new revenue if this “encouragement to quit” blackmail actually works? Do you really believe that they think we will all quit? Second, if my health is such a concern to the government, then why do they block every attempt of the tobacco and pharmaceutical industries to market a smoke-free nicotine delivery system? While you can argue that nicotine is unhealthy, only a fool would say that it poses the health threat of all those other chemicals in cigarette smoke.

Of course, the real question is this: If tobacco is such a dangerous thing that poses such a threat to all of us, then why doesn’t the government just ban it outright? Please allow me to spell it out for you. The government knows that a ban on tobacco would only lead to a massive black market that they cannot prosper from. Then why not allow healthier alternatives that can be taxed? Because, like any addict, they’ve told so many lies that they simply can’t figure out how to do the right thing without revealing what monstrous hypocrites they truly are!

Indeed, the marketplace offers many opportunities for revenue generating regulation and taxation - drugs and prostitution are just a couple more examples. But rather than face the truth and deal with these things with the rational thinking they say we should use, they prefer to maintain their “because we said so!” attitudes and continue wasting precious lives and billions of dollars on lost-cause anti-crime efforts and drug wars.

And speaking of drugs, there’s a medium sized debate going on about whether or not marijuana should be legalized. While “the conservatives” argue against it because of the so-called “gateway” effect, the health nuts argue that marijuana smoke is even more unhealthy than cigarette smoke. But do you hear any of them admitting that making the prescription drug Marinol available over the counter to adults would solve this problem?

In closing, I want to remind you that smokers aren’t the only “targets of convenience” available for these new revenue enhancement measures. Drivers should be concerned about all those traffic cameras and the talk of new fuel consumption taxes. And what about the “fat taxes” I keep hearing about? The bottom line is that anyone not protected by the umbrella of “popularity” should keep an eye out - and up - for the big boot of government.

I am always amazed at how casually some can simply dismiss the rights of others simply because they don’t approve of how “those people” live. The issue here is not about health, the poor, or the Prez’s agenda. The issue is whether or not the majority has the right to target an “unpopular” group for taxation that is not shared across the board by all citizens. My answer is No! In a free society, there can be no such thing as the right to deny the rights of others.

On a more humorous note, maybe this ultra-litigious society provides hope after all. Remember all those new laws intended to protect the decent non-smokers from the horrors spewing from my mouth? Recent polls show that less than 20% of Americans smoke these days, while I think at least 95% spew forth mind-crushing second-hand bull#$%@. Where do I go to get laws passed protecting me from them?

I want ice water.

The Real Reagan Legacy

2009-03-31T09:32:00.000-04:00

There was an interesting discussion of the problems facing the incoming Obama administration on PBS’s The McLaughlin Group a while back. As usual, the group was in the midst of a shouting match - this time about whether or not the proposals Obama was making had any chance of working and how badly the Democrats would suffer in the next election if they didn’t. That’s when Pat Buchanan drew a comparison between the current situation and that faced by the incoming Reagan administration.

He pointed out how Reagan’s plans took over three years to start bearing fruit and how the Republicans got soundly thrashed two years after his election (a year before any positive changes in the economy were seen). This got me to thinking about my own thoughts and feelings during those times. You see, I was inspired by Reagan’s candidacy like I hadn’t been since Johnson (who reminded me of my dad) and Bobby Kennedy. I was too young to vote during the 60’s, let alone understand what the real issues were all about, but I was certainly primed for the polls in 1980. Besides, Reagan was the only politician ever mentioned, let alone given praise, by Ayn Rand.

Regardless of how he is painted by the politicians of today, I still believe that Reagan’s attempt to get government out of the way of way of free enterprise was the morally correct thing to do. Unfortunately, what he apparently didn’t realize (I know I didn’t) was that those who passed themselves off as Capitalists had been so corrupted by years of having to work around government interference that they no longer had the decency required to be actual Capitalists. Even Alan Greenspan, who not only was praised by Ayn Rand but contributed an essay or two to her books, was fooled into thinking that the profit motive would be enough to keep those clowns in line. A casual look at any news program today will reveal how well that turned out.

Now before you start thinking that maybe Ayn Rand just didn’t know what she was talking about, I should point out how she railed against the so-called ’defenders of Capitalism’ - the Republicans. Don’t get me wrong. She certainly had no great love for the Democrats, but at least they didn’t hide their liberal agendas. The Republicans, on the other hand, pretended then and now to be all in favor of freedom and free enterprise and yet consistently voted in ways that violated everything they preached. They’re the ones who consistently vote against the rights of women, gays, sexual freedoms, the content of our children’s education, and those who seek ’alternative’ lifestyles. And I’ll bet that the way they treated women was particularly annoying to Ms. Rand, one of the greatest minds the world has ever known.

What does any of that have to do with free enterprise? It’s simple really. Free enterprise only works in an environment that encourages freedom of thought! When looked at that way, the Republicans have acted for decades as the greatest hindrance to freedom this country has ever faced. Maybe if Reagan and Greenspan had paid more attention to what Rand was saying, they would have realized that their plans needed some serious checks and balances placed on their own party.

As for President Obama, I’m almost afraid to hope that he is as level-headed as he seems. If I could give him one little piece of advice, it would be to suggest that he push his evolving party to become what the Republicans should have been for Reagan. After all, Bill Clinton did a lot of good by stealing ideas from the conservatives. Genuine free market Capitalism is not only the way for Obama to take control of both sides of the political landscape, it’s the only true path out of the economic mess we’ve stepped in.

I want ice water.

Heroes: Johannes Kepler

2009-03-31T09:30:00.001-04:00

Considering how religion has dominated the history of western civilization, it should come as no surprise that scientific advancement in such an environment required a truly heroic effort. I am hard pressed to find a better example of this than the 17th century mathematician Johannes Kepler. Although this man is virtually unheard of outside of science lover’s like me and the scientific community itself, his accomplishments stand with even the most famous scientists of all. I first heard of Kepler while watching Carl Sagan’s PBS series, Cosmos. The name might also be familiar to those who follow NASA, because of the recently launched Kepler telescope and it’s mission to search for other habitable planets.

Despite being raised a Lutheran, attending seminary school, university as a theology student, and his full intention to become a minister himself, Kepler’s brilliant mind and absolute dedication to his search for the truth led him to instead to become what many believe to be the true father of modern astrophysics. At a time when The Church still maintained that the Earth was the center of the universe and Galileo was spending the rest of his life under house arrest for defying that doctrine, Kepler almost single-handedly developed the modern scientific method of discovery and went on to provide us with the laws of planetary motion that we use today to predict the positions of the planets and send to our spacecraft so precisely through the solar system.

Kepler’s work with planetary motion led directly to Newton’s later work showing that the motions of objects on the Earth and the heavens are governed by the same set of natural laws including Newton’s Law of Universal Gravitation. Amongst his other many achievements, Kepler’s work in Optics also inspired Newton and others, leading to our understanding of light, vision, and photography. Amongst his firsts are the development lenses for vision correction, and the explanations for depth perception, how a telescope actually works, and how the moon causes the tides.

Johannes Kepler was a truly amazing individual who absolutely deserves recognition as a true life hero.

I want ice water.

And The Band Plays On…

2009-03-31T09:27:00.000-04:00

I got all riled up this evening when I heard of the death threats against AIG employees and their families. I immediately raced over to this old-hunk-o-junk PC of mine. I wanted to rail against the news media for getting this witch hunt started in the first place, and against those weak-kneed politicians that couldn’t resist piling on. I wanted to point out how, in the larger scheme of things, those guys at AIG are no more guilty than the rest of us who bought into this whole get very much for very little mentality that damned near sunk the whole she-bang.

Unfortunately this old-hunk-o-junk is so slow that I’ve had time to cool off a little - enough to realize that I’ve said it all before. So instead I’ve decided to simply let those good old boys of Rush say it for me, with their song…

Witch Hunt

The night is black
Without a moon
The air is thick, and still

The vigilantes gather on
The lonely torchlit hill

Features distorted in the flickering light
The faces are twisted and grotesque
Silent and stern in the sweltering night
The mob moves like demons possessed
Quiet in conscience, calm in their right —
Confident their ways are best

The righteous rise
With burning eyes
Of hatred and ill-will

Madmen fed on fear and lies
To beat, and burn, and kill

They say there are strangers, who threaten us
In our immigrants and infidels
They say there is strangeness, too dangerous
In our theatres and bookstore shelves
That those who know what’s best for us —
Must rise and save us from ourselves

Quick to judge
Quick to anger
Slow to understand

Ignorance and prejudice
And fear
Walk hand in hand

I want ice water

At Seventeen

2009-03-31T09:24:00.000-04:00

As you might have gathered from the other articles about my personal life, as a child I was what some would call “a sensitive boy.” That is, those who wanted to be kind. The other boys usually weren’t. I prefer to think that I was just “more aware.” However I came to see things the way I did, as I neared seventeen I had had my fill of the opinions of those I knew about how things worked and how people should live. More than ever before, I looked for those I thought had something exceptional to say. One of those voices was that of Janis Ian, and her very timely song…

At Seventeen

“I learned the truth at seventeen.
That love was meant for beauty queens.
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles.
Who married young and then retired.

The valentines I never knew.
The Friday night charades of youth.
Were spent on one more beautiful.
At seventeen I learned the truth.

And those of us with ravaged faces.
Lacking in the social graces.
Desperately remained at home.
Inventing lovers on the phone.
Who called to say - come dance with me.
And murmured vague obscenities.
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen.

A brown eyed girl in hand me downs.
Whose name I never could pronounce.
Said - pity please the ones who serve.
They only get what they deserve.

And the rich relationed hometown queen.
Marries into what she needs.
With a guarantee of company.
And haven for the elderly.

Remember those who win the game.
Lose the love they sought to gain.
In debentures of quality and dubious integrity.
Their small-town eyes will gape at you.
In dull surprise when payment due.
Exceeds accounts received at seventeen.

(Instrumental)

To those of us who knew the pain.
Of valentines that never came.
And those whose names were never called.
When choosing sides for basketball.

It was long ago and far away.
The world was younger than today.
When dreams were all they gave for free.
To ugly duckling girls like me.

We all play the game, and when we dare.
To cheat ourselves at solitaire.
Inventing lovers on the phone.
Repenting other lives unknown.
That call and say - come dance with me.
And murmur vague obscenities.
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen.”

Being an almost seventeen year old boy living in the Black community, I naturally had no one to talk to about the impact this song had on me. I’m not sure if I could have explained how I could relate so strongly to a song about a girl and her problems anyway. But I did, and I still do.

I want ice water.

Dragged Down By The Stone

2009-03-20T17:37:00.001-04:00

In the late 70's, during my first attempt at 'higher education,' I wrote an essay on how I thought that Pink Floyd's Animals was an accurate reflection of our society. Sadly, I don't have a copy to share with you today. I do however, find it sweetly ironic that now, some thirty-two years later, the Pigs are in the air with no place to land and the Dogs are in a drop-dead panic because the Sheep are on the rampage.

Please allow me to translate:

The Pigs are those whom we, for one reason or another, have granted 'positions of authority.' While they are mainly elected officials, all those who are looked to for leadership and guidance fall into this category as well.

The Dogs are those well-trained individuals who work so hard to squeeze every penny of profit they can out of the system we provide at the behest of the Pigs.

The Sheep includes pretty much everyone who are not Dogs or Pigs.

It is possible for a member of one group to move into another. And because of the 'special nature' of this wonder-land we live in, it is even possible for a player to exist in more than group at the same time. Isn't that cool?

Sadly though, there is trouble on the board. Paradise has turned into a ball of confusion. The Sheep are out for the Dogs blood now that they've realized their true place on the food chain. The Dogs are begging the Pigs for bail money now that their victims are circling around with leash / noose, in hand. And the Pigs are fluttering about like wounded ducks while simultaneously wagging their fingers at the Dogs and crying for the Sheep to have patience.

As Pink Floyd sang:

"Now it's too late to lose the weight you used to need to throw around.
So have a good drown, as you go down, all alone.
Dragged down by the stone."

Unfortunately, the 'you' in that prose might well be all of us.

I want ice water.

Update 3/20/09

I decided to update this article after watching John Oliver's (The Daily Show) stand-up performance on Comedy Central. With his being British and with Pink Floyd being British and with my fascination with that British accent - I think in a British accent at times don't you know, it just seemed appropriate that I include his closing thoughts as an update to this article.

John, and his comic 'scientist' sidekick, made the point that perhaps the reason the U.S. isn't working harder to solve the problems of the world is because the rules of this crazy game say that whoever is on top when the world ends must be declared the winner. Well for a die-hard fatalistic American patriot like myself, I had to consider that perhaps this was a good thing. It's just unfortunate that no one will be around to celebrate our glorious achievement.

Not being one to give up on fame and fortune at any cost, perhaps we can leave some sort of great American Monument bragging of said achievement for future alien visitors to find. That'll wipe the smirk off their proud little green planet-hopping faces!

I want ice water.

Radicals Like Me

2009-03-19T23:17:00.002-04:00

Note: I’ve provided The Who’s We Won’t Get Fooled Again for your listening pleasure while you read this article.

I have been inspired to write this article by watching a little of today's Glenn Beck show. He was talking to Penn Jillette (of Penn & Teller fame) about how speaking against the government these days can get you labeled as a radical, or worse, a militant. This stuck with me because I sometimes fear the same thing when it comes to the things I write about here. I know that Mr. Jillette has claimed his alliance with The Libertarian Party, and I think that Mr. Beck has at least declared his sympathies for their beliefs. Regardless of that, I absolutely agree with their statement that if someone today wrote something similar to Thomas Paine's Common Sense, they would be labeled a radical.

As for political parties, someone once said something to the effect of "I wouldn't join any group that would have me as a member." I think it was either Will Rogers or Mark Twain, but I haven't been able to find the quote when searching through theirs. Regardless of who said it, as an independent thinker not wanting to swear allegiance to any group or party, this thought has been with me from the moment I heard it. As I've said before, I consider myself to be an Objectivist from a philosophical perspective. This means that I work hard not to allow subjective thoughts and feelings to influence my opinions and actions on specific issues.

By definition, claiming membership in a group or political party means that you have adopted the statements and platforms of that group or party as your own. While I realize that this is not literally true for those who join groups and political parties, they do expose themselves to having to defend or deny statements and opinions that they had nothing to do with. I refuse to put myself in that position, regardless of how "out in the cold" that leaves me.

If you were to ask me, however, which political party comes closest to the way I see things, I would have to say The Libertarian Party. But again, I have no intention of giving blanket approval to their party platform by joining. And in case anyone thinks it hasn't occurred to me, I'm fully aware of how my frequent references to Ayn Rand and her philosophy of Objectivism invites being tagged as a "Randian." I am also aware that the late Ayn Rand, and those who stand in her stead, has rejected the Libertarians even though so many Libertarians point to her as the influence that led them to that party. I can only guess that other Objectivists feel as I do about joining political parties.

At any rate, I will continue to write what I think until those with the torches and pitchforks drag my cold, dead hands from the keyboard.

I want ice water.

On The Cover Of The Rolling Stone

2009-03-18T10:46:00.001-04:00

Just like everyone else, I would like my moment in the sun. And I will gladly admit that this blog is my attempt to finally gain some recognition but for talents that I'm actually proud of. The drawback to my approach, of course, is that the web is crammed full of zillions of pages of stuff produced by people who think their work is worthy of attention as well. In fact, there are many, many examples of excellent sites that I can only hope to compete with.

However, just like all media these days, there is plenty of trash on the web as well. But I'm not mad, as I'm having a great time just learning how to do this. Besides, this whole thing started as a kind of public self-therapy journal anyway. To be honest, and with no insult intended towards anyone, I find much of the stuff I run across to be absolutely hilarious. The hilarity of it all reminds me of one of my favorite songs, On The Cover Of The Rolling Stone by Doctor Hook and The Medicine Show:

(No, I don't believe it, nah, nah, ah, oh...don't touch me. Hey Ray, hey sugar, tell 'em who we are)
Well, we're big rock singers
We got golden fingers
And we're loved everywhere we go..... (that sounds like us)
We sing about beauty and we sing about truth
At ten-thousand dollars a show..... (right)
We take all kinds of pills that give us all kind of thrills
But the thrill we've never known
Is the thrill that'll gitcha when you get your picture
On the cover of the Rolling Stone

(Rolling Stone.....) Wanna see my picture on the cover
(Stone.....)Wanna buy five copies for my mother..... (yeah)
(Stone.....)Wanna see my smilin face
On the cover of the Rolling Stone.... (that's a very very good idea)

I got a freaky ole lady name a cocaine Katy
Who embroideries on my jeans
I got my poor ole grey haired daddy
Drivin my limosine
Now it's all designed to blow our minds
But our minds won't really be blown
Like the blow that'll gitcha when you get your picture
On the cover of the Rolling Stone

(Rolling stone.....) Wanna see our pictures on the cover
(Stone.....) Wanna buy five copies for our mothers..... (yeah)
(Stone.....) Wanna see my smilin face
On the cover of the Rolling Stone
(talking) Hey, I know how
Rock and roll.....

[instrumental]
Ah, that's beautiful
We got a lot of little teenage blue eyed groupies
Who do anything we say
We got a genuine Indian Guru
Who's teaching us a better way
We got all the friends that money can buy
So we never have to be alone
And we keep getting richer but we can't get our picture
On the cover of the Rolling Stone

(Rolling stone.....)Gonna see my picture on the cover
(Stone.....) Gonna buy five copies for my mother..... (I want one)
(Stone.....) Gonna see my smilin' face
On the cover of the Rolling stone
On the cover of the Rolling.......
(Stone.....) Gonna see my picture on the cover
(talking) I don't know why we ain't on the cover, baby....
(Stone.....) Gonna buy five copies for my mother
(talking) We're beautiful first....
(Stone.....) Wanna see my smilin face
(talking) I ain't kiddin' ya, oh we would make a vulnerable cover....
On the cover of the Rolling stone......
(talking) fresh shot, right up front, man.....
I can see it now, we'll be on the front....
Smilin', Man......
Ahh, beautiful.......

I want ice water.

Heroes: Inspiration

2009-03-17T15:38:00.005-04:00

Readers of this blog have heard me rail against organized religion and belief in the supernatural in general. You’ve also heard me preach about the benefits and necessity for rational thinking. But I hope that my strong belief in our potential - and my faith in our ability to live up to that potential - has been revealed as well. If this blog reveals nothing more about my character than this, then I will be satisfied.

All my life, I have searched for inspiration. From books like The Holy Bible, Atlas Shrugged, Time Enough For Love, and The Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant. From movies like The Ten Commandments, It’s A Wonderful Life, and The Day The Earth Stood Still. From TV shows like Gun Smoke, Law and Order, and Star Trek. And from the songs of groups like The Temptations, Pink Floyd, and Rush.

Another thing that should be clear from reading this blog is how I love to include the music and lyrics from songs that relate to what I’m talking about. The great thing about my favorite movies and TV shows is that they combine great visuals with great music. In this article, I will attempt to combine all three elements - the visual, the music, and the lyrics - from two of my all-time favorite TV shows: The Greatest American Hero and Star Trek: Enterprise.

I chose these shows because they represent my life-long desire to be, and to inspire others to be, a force for good in the world. The Greatest American Hero represents how being a hero is not always a matter of choice, and that mistakes can and will happen along the way. The entire Star Trek line-up represents what can happen when good people stand up and make the right choices. I’m hard pressed to find another SciFi collection that presents such a positive view of the future. Star Trek: Enterprise is the greatest of the line-up because it’s the closest in the time-line to where we are now, and therefore presents a more relevant look at the moral issues - both social and technological - that we face.

The Greatest American Hero
(Believe It Or Not by Mike Post and Stephen Geyer)

Look at what’s happened to me,

I can’t believe it myself.

Suddenly I’m up on top of the world,

It should've been somebody else.

Believe it or not,

I’m walking on air.

I never thought I could feel so free.

Flying away on a wing and a prayer.

Who could it be?

Believe it or not it’s just me.

It’s like a light of a new day,

It came from out of the blue.

Breaking me out of the spell I was in,

Making all of my wishes come true.

Believe it or not,

I’m walking on air.

I never thought I could feel so free-.

Flying away on a wing and a prayer.

Who could it be?
Believe it or not it’s just me.

Star Trek: Enterprise
(derived from the song Faith Of the Heart written by Diane Warren and sung by British opera star Russell Watson. This song was first featured in the film Patch Adams, performed by Rod Stewart)

It’s been a long road

Getting from there to here

It’s been a long time

But my time is finally here

And I can see my dreams come alive at night

I can touch the sky

And they’re not gonna hold me down no more

No they’re not gonna change my mind

(Chorus)

’Cause I’ve got faith of the heart

I’m going where my heart will take me

I’ve got faith to believe

I can do anything

I’ve got strength of the soul

No one’s going to bend nor break me

I can reach any star

I’ve got faith

Faith of the heart

I want ice water.

Ball Of Confusion - Revisited

2009-03-16T11:18:00.006-04:00

I love the old Temptations song Ball Of Confusion and I’ve been waiting for quite a while for someone to do an updated version. Well I’m tired of waiting and will now tackle the task, at least the lyrics part, myself. My thanks to leoslyrics.com for the original lyrics.

Ball Of Confusion - Revisited

1, 2… 1, 2, 3, 4, Ow!

People moving out, foreclosures rolling in.

Why, because the bubble’s crashing in.

Run, run, run but you sure can’t hide.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Vote for me and I’ll set you free.

Rap on, brother, rap on.

Well, the only person talking about love thy brother is the…(preacher.)

And it seems nobody’s interested in learning but the…(teacher.)

Muslim nations, immigration, regulation demonstrations,

Aggravating humiliation, prisons all around our nation.

Ball of confusion.

Oh yeah, that’s what the world is today.

Woo, hey, hey.

The sale of guns are at an all time high.

People walking round with that look in their eye.

The cities are strange in the summer time.

And oh, the beat goes on.

Evolution disillusion, oil controls the screamin’ polls.

No mo’ rockets to the moon, kids still growing up too soon.

Politicians say low taxes will solve everything.

And the band plays on.

So, round and around and around we go.

Where the world’s headed, nobody knows.
[Instrumental]

Hey Google user, can’t you hear me talking to you.

Just a ball of confusion.

Oh yeah, that’s what the world is today.

Woo, hey, hey.

Fear in the air, tension everywhere.

Unemployment rising fast, Obama sure got elected fast.

And there’s no safe place to live, we’re now a well armed nation.

And the band plays on.

Eve of destruction, tax reductions, bridge inspectors set new records,

New blood in demand, economics out of hand,
Genocides, diamond kills, investors running for the hills.
People all over the world are shouting, "End the wars."

And the band plays on.

[Instrumental]

Hey Google user, can’t you hear me talking to you.

Sayin’… ball of confusion.

That’s what the world is today, hey, hey.

Let me hear ya, let me hear ya, let me hear ya.

Sayin’… ball of confusion.

That’s what the world is today, hey, hey.

Let me hear ya, let me hear ya, let me hear ya,
Let me hear ya, let me hear ya.

Sayin’… ball of confusion.

I’m so proud, but it sure wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. So don’t forget my check when you decide to record it. I may be laughing now, but I’m still a Capitalist.

I want ice water.

Singing The Blues

2009-03-11T14:51:00.004-04:00

As I’ve said before, I suffer from depression. Sometimes the bottom just drops out, usually for no rational reason that I can discern. When I’m laying on the bottom of one of these downturns, it’s very difficult for me to do anything, let alone writing. As much as I would like to write about it while it’s happening, I’ve never been able to do so. I’ve just been through one of these phases and I want to share with you, as best I can, what it’s like.

The following is a list of Pink Floyd song lyrics that not only describe the feelings I have when I’m in the middle of one of these funks, but are the actual songs that I sometimes listen to - and sing along with - while it’s happening. Amazingly enough, these songs somehow help me get through it.

The last song, by Emerson, Lake & Palmer, represents my underlying desire to persevere and reclaim my hold on life.

Please note that whether you are reading this on Blogger or on WordPress, I have made it possible for you to listen to these songs. On Blogger, they’ve all been included as individual songs in the Blog Playlist in the sidebar. On WordPress, you’ll find the same playlist on the Songs for this Blog page.

Pink Floyd - Another Brick In The Wall (Part III)

I don’t need no arms around me
I don’t need no drugs to calm me
I have seen the writing on the wall
Don’t think I need anything at all
Oh no! Don’t think I’ll need anything at all

All in all it was all just bricks in the wall
All in all you were just bricks in the wall

Pink Floyd - Goodbye Cruel World

Goodbye cruel world
I’m leaving you today
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye
Goodbye all you people
There’s nothing you can say
To make me change
My mind
Goodbye.

Pink Floyd - Hey You

Hey you!
Out there in the cold. Getting lonely, getting old,
Can you feel me?

Hey you!
Standing in the aisles with itchy feet and fading smiles,
Can you feel me?

Hey you!
Don’t help them to bury the light
Don’t give in without a fight.

Hey you!
Out there on your own sitting naked by the phone
Would you touch me?

Hey you!
With your ear against the wall, Waiting for someone to call out
Would you touch me?

Hey you!
Would you help me to carry the stone?
Open your heart, I’m coming home.

But it was only a fantasy
The wall was too high as you can see
No matter how he tried he could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain.

Hey you!
Out there on the road always doing what you’re told,
Can you help me?

Hey you!
Out there beyond the wall, breaking bottles in the hall,
Can you help me?

Hey you!
Don’t tell me there’s no hope at all
Together we stand, divided we fall.

Pink Floyd - Is There Anybody Out There

Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?
Is there anybody out there?

Pink Floyd - Nobody Home

I’ve got a little black book with my poems in
Got a bag with a toothbrush and a comb in
When I’m a good dog they sometimes throw me the bone in

I got elastic bands keepin’ my shoes on
Got those swollen hand blues
I got thirteen channels of shit on the TV to choose from

I’ve got electric light
And I’ve got second sight
I got amazing powers of observation

And that is how I know,
When I try to get through
On the telephone to you,
There’ll be nobody home

I’ve got the obligatory Hendrix perm
And the inevitable pinhole burns
All down the front of my favorite satin shirt

I’ve got nicotine stains on my fingers,
I’ve got a silver spoon on a chain
Got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains

I’ve got wild staring eyes
And I’ve got a strong urge to fly,
But I got nowhere to fly to

Ooh, babe when I pick up the phone
There’s still nobody home

I’ve got a pair of Gohills boots
And I got fading roots

Emerson, Lake & Palmer - Still... You Turn Me On

Do you want to be an angel,
Do you want to be a star,
Do you want to play some magic on my guitar?
Do you want to be a poet,
Do you want to be my string?
You could be anything.
Do you want to be the lover of another
Undercover? you could even be the man on the moon.

Do you want to be the player,
Do you want to be the string?
Let me just tell you something,
It just don’t mean a thing.
You see it really doesn’t matter
When you’re buried in disguise
By the dark glass on your eyes,
Though your flesh has crystallized;

Still .... you turn me on.

Do you want to be the pillow where i lay my head,
Do you want to be the feathers lying in my bed?
Do you want to be a colour cover magazine;
Create a scene.
Every day a little sadder,
A little madder,
Someone get me a ladder.

Do you want to be the singer,
Do you want to be the song?
Let me tell you something
You just couldn’t be more wrong.
You see i really have to tell you
That it all gets so intense.
from my experience
It just doesn’t seem to make sense,

Still .... you turn me on.

Hmmn .... you turn me on.

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Perfection

2009-03-02T06:55:00.001-05:00

Because I had a tendency to hold up the process of testing and quality control on my job, my supervisor once remarked that, "if we waited for every system to be perfect, we’d never ship anything." I had to agree that he was right, but that doesn’t mean that I was ever comfortable with that idea. In fact, I later became the company’s technical writer mostly because the engineers were never able to design our products so that it was obvious how to operate them.

I’ve had such a problem dealing with the ramifications of my perfectionism - if you only knew the massive amounts of time I have spent just writing and editing these articles - that I think a look at the subject of human perfection is in order. As for the attitude that most people seem to take towards people like me, I think Pink Floyd’s song Not Now John is a fair representation:

"Fuck all that we’ve got to get on with these
Got to compete with the wily Japanese
There’s too many home fires burning and not enough trees
So fuck all that we’ve got to get on with these...

Not now John we’ve got to get on with the film show
Hollywood waits at the end of the rainbow
Who cares what it’s about as long as the kids go
So not now John we’ve got to get on with the show..."

Even those who aren’t so callous in their views on getting things done, most of whom owe their ’gentleness’ of attitude to a religious upbringing, think that it’s ’sinful’ somehow for a human to strive for perfection in the things he does or in his life in general. While I completely agree that things must get done and products must be shipped, I have a problem when it comes to avoiding the idea of human perfection altogether. How else do we continue to move up the evolutionary ladder?

I realize that some will object to my reference to evolution, but I made that reference specifically because of the fundamental conflict that exists between the various views on how we got where we are and how we will survive and move forward in the future. I have to wonder if those amidst this raging debate have ever considered that, regardless whether one thinks we got here through divine action or random happenstance, we absolutely need something better than the our interpretations of the past to guide us into the future.

Perhaps a start on that can be achieved through a good definition of just what a 'perfect human' would be. My personal view is that, since absolute perfection is impossible for beings who don’t possess the power of omniscience, human perfection is better thought of as a road on which those who strive for perfection must travel. And while the occasional detour is to be expected - after all, trial and error is a fundamental part of the learning process - striving to stay on the road is absolutely essential.

Those who would treat as weird those of us who tend towards obsession when it comes to getting things right should remember that all of those people in history that we hold up as examples of human greatness were considered weird for their obsessive behaviors as well. While I may never be considered qualified to stand amongst those great people, I have no doubt that they were just as disgusted as I now am at the way creative people are treated.

After all, if more people considered it their duty to travel down the road to perfection, then perhaps the rest of us wouldn’t have to be so obsessive about our own pursuits. If nothing else, we wouldn’t be such a rarity that we seem weird by comparison.

I want ice water.

Pride, Respect and Pain

2009-03-02T06:52:00.001-05:00

After a very long time, I had the opportunity to talk to my oldest son the other day. I say ’talk to’ because I hardly let him get in a word edgewise. When I realized how much I was hogging the conversation I started to apologize by telling him how rare it has become for me to have someone to talk to, and that was when he told me how much he has in fact missed listening to me. Since we were also discussing his becoming my roommate, I was glad to hear him say that. But his statement planted a thought in my head that didn’t come to the fore until I watched Tavis Smiley’s interview with Mickey Rourke tonight.

Mr. Rourke’s description of the childhood demons that plagued him almost to the point of self-destruction caused me to reflect on my own. Both of us were affected by childhoods filled with violence and pain, and both of us chose to develop a ’hard’ persona to protect us from that pain while attempting to prove that we were a match for the evils that we perceived the world to have set against us. The difference between us lies only in the manner in which we chose to present our ’hardness’ to the world. His choice was the persona of the man who could not be touched through a shield of violence. My choice was the persona of the man who could not be touched through a shield of mental perfection.

I’ve always been so determined to prove that I was too ’smart’ to be affected on any deep level by the chaos and pain of our lives. I did this by attempting to appear to have an answer to everyone’s problem, and of course, an appropriate sermon to go along with my advise. This had both positive and negative consequences. On the positive side, maintaining this persona required me to learn quite a lot about the human condition, and also how to communicate my ideas effectively. On the negative side, this persona made conversing with me a real ’downer’ for some, and made me appear as an arrogant ass to others.

The problem was that perfecting this persona had become the very basis for any sense of pride that I had. I simply never believed that I could ever truly be respected without it. But the harder I worked at it the more difficult the task became, and I seemed to be moving farther and farther away from the respect I wanted. In a very real sense, my ego had become like the planet held up by the shoulders of Atlas, which only grew heavier the harder I strained to hold it up. Eventually it became more than I could bear and I had a mental breakdown as a result. The irony of it all is that as I slid down into addiction and despair, I became in reality both unreachable and untouchable to those around me.

I have to admit that I found comfort for a while in being thought of as ’crazy’ by other people. After all, who would expect a crazy person to have all the answers? But at the same time it really irked me to be judged ’chemically imbalanced’ by doctors and ’unemployable’ by the government. Especially when my mental state seemed to me the logical result of being a sane person living in an insane world. But over time I have come to realize that ’sane’ is a relative term, and that no one is completely sane when compared to some perfectionist ideal. I’ve also come to see that the disappointment that I saw in peoples eyes when I was really screwing up wasn’t because I had been revealed as imperfect after all - everyone already knew I was human, but because it looked like I had given up on striving for perfection - what actually made me special to them in the first place.

It’s now been over two weeks since I started writing this article. Something about the subject matter, in combination with other events in my life, made it too difficult to continue until tonight. What got me going again was seeing Mickey Rourke on Charley Rose last night and helping my oldest son move in with me earlier today. As far as the Rourke interview last night is concerned, I was again struck by the amazing combination of strength and vulnerability that exudes from the man. How can I not feel compassion for a man whose ’shield’ has failed him at least as badly as my own has failed me? But at the same time, how can I not have hope for myself when I see how possible it is for one to survive the failure and come out better for it?

I don’t know if the people who have been disappointed by my failures feel so because I had given them hope and then dashed it, or because I was no longer amusing them by acting like some Don Quixote character battling against impossible odds. And I guess it’s that not knowing that fuels my fear of being a further disappointment or an even bigger fool. But I know that the bottom line that I must stick with is the fact that I do what I do for myself and that it’s my own respect that I must earn. Pain is, after all, an unavoidable consequence of being alive, and genuine pride can only come from self-respect.

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 7

2009-02-21T13:12:00.003-05:00

Yeah, that’s right. I’ve got more questions. So sue me. Just kidding. You wouldn’t really sue me would you? Would you? Where’s the ACLU when I need them?

1. I read once that the sign of the dollar was created by placing the ’U’ for United over the ’S’ for States. I can even remember when there were two vertical lines over the ’S’ instead of the single one so commonly found today. But my question is this: when did that symbol change from representing the esteem that the one who carried it had earned from those he traded fairly and well with, to representing the shameful way in which the one who carries it turns a profit? Maybe that’s why, unconsciously, we changed the ’U’ to a slash.

2. I saw an Ohio Lottery TV ad where a guy jumps through one of those holes you throw down like in the old cartoons. Am I the only one who sees the irony in the relationship between the fact that the hole was black and what typically happens to people who chase riches through gambling?

3. While channel surfing, I happened across Who Wants To Be A Millionaire. Can someone please tell how someone can ask for help when the question involves the number of vowels in states whose names are displayed right in front of him?

4. Have you ever been so angry that you literally gave thanks that you were not in possession of ’the button’ that could destroy the world?

5. I have an idea for what could become a highly sought after ’gag’ gift for Nerds: men’s underwear with handles in the back! While I’m not sure if anyone would be crazy enough to wear them, the fact that being a Nerd has become so chic these days would give a product like this great value as a symbol of the ’torment’ Nerds have had to endure! Ah hah! Who’s crazy now? Oh shut up!

6. What do you think better reflects the true personality of Americans today, the face they present on shows like Maury and Jerry Springer, the face they present on all of those ’judge’ shows, or the face they show on all of those ’reality’ shows?

7. In the heat of summer, it’s not hard for me to accept the idea of global warming. In the cold of the winter I’m now struggling through, I can also accept the notion that humanity’s screw up is actually holding off the next Ice Age. But I wonder if the eggheads arguing on either side have considered the possibility that they’re all right? Could the fact that we’ve done such a great job - blindly as usual - staving off the coming ice through global warming - again quite blindly - that we’re actually bringing on an uncomfortable warm period followed by an Ice Age worse than what we were originally headed for? Perhaps we should not so easily dismiss the science behind the movie The Day After Tomorrow. Sadly however, history proves that while we can be very good at picking through the small stuff, we’re really bad when it comes to seeing the big picture.

8. Have you ever noticed how the products that claim to be more healthy are also more expensive? I guess this is just another example of how only the wealthy can afford good health care these days.

9. While watching tonight’s episode of 60 Minutes, a disturbing question occurred to me. One of the pieces was about the never ending fight between the peoples of the middle east over the Israeli / Palestinian lands. This reminded of children fighting over a toy and of the typical results of such disputes - destruction of the toy either by the kids or by an intervening parent. Considering the growing destructive power of the local players, and the enormous destructive capacities already in the hands of the powers seeking to settle the dispute, how long will it be before that area gets reduced to a gleaming radioactive wasteland that no one will live on for many, many years? Note that my reference to ’gleaming’ comes from my having heard that sand melted in a nuclear explosion would harden into green glass. Not that I’d advocate finding out in such a manner, but I would like to know if this is true.

10. Another piece from tonight’s episode of 60 Minutes was about the attempt by scientists to fight the effects of aging by producing pills made from a highly concentrated form of the chemical resperitol (?) found in red wine. They say that this chemical activates a gene in our bodies that cause it to go into a kind of ’survival’ mode, which increases the bodies ability to fight off the things that make aging so dangerous. As evidence, they showed the results from animal an microbial studies that seem to back up their claims. But 60 Minutes also presented people who claim that this same gene is activated through radical reductions in calorie intake. These people also had animal and human studies to back up their claim. They also claim that it is our high fat, high calorie diet that turn off the gene in the first place. So my question is this: Even if the new drug works as expected and is proven to be safe, doesn’t it simply represent another attempt by humans to escape the moral responsibility to take care of our bodies that freedom of lifestyle comes with?

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 6

2009-02-21T13:11:00.003-05:00

Again with the endless questions. Please note that this time there will be a test.

1. The ’progressive’ U.S. tax system requires the wealthy to pay more taxes than the poor. In fact, those at the top end of the income scale are sometimes expected to pay thousands of times more than those at the low end of the income scale. Why then, are people surprised that the principles separating freedom fighters from pirates have become corrupted?

2. How is it that American citizens can express more outrage at the treatment of people who openly desire the destruction of our country than they do at the treatment of Americans imprisoned simply because of how they chose to treat their own bodies? Or should the question be why are they surprised that those prisoners are being treated that way considering how we treat our own people? Please note that just as ’high minded’ butting in has inspired the terrorists, it has also inspired a flagrant disregard for the law by many of our own people.

3. The news is filled with talk about the racist history of the Washington, DC area. I suppose they think that shocking us with such ’terrible revelations’ will inspire us to watch their wall-to-wall coverage of the upcoming Obama inauguration. But considering that we know all to well that this country was built on the backs of slaves, just who is it that they think will be shocked? I just want all the hoopla to be over so the man can get on with the monstrous task ahead of him. What would shock me would be for all those talking heads to shut up for a change and let the poor guy do his job!

4. Being the eternal optimist who always looks for the silver lining, do you think that maybe my distant cousins will finally get Manhattan Island back after all is said and done? Okay, enough with the laughing about the ’eternal optimist’ bit!

5. Who in hell designed the standard keyboard layout? After all this time using it, I still hit Delete when I want End and write nad when I mean and. It’s not my fault I tell ya!

6. I don’t normally watch the show Ghost Whisperer because it’s so depressingly reminiscent of all that supernatural crap from my childhood. But the lack of cable has caused me to watch a lot of shows lately that I wouldn’t normally watch. Having it on my TV right now has inspired me to wonder about some of my own dead friends and family. Here are just a few of my thoughts:

a. Was my brother sad that he wouldn’t be able to spend the Easter of 1970 with me while he was dying from two gunshots to the chest? The police said that the shooter was my brother’s best friend, in a drug-induced craze, using my brother’s own gun. Others said that the police had framed my brother’s friend for a hit actually done by them to prevent my brother from testifying in a police-involved stolen property case.

b. What was it like for my father to die all alone in the V. A. hospital during that same year? I don’t know the actual date because I was considered ’too fragile’ to be told right away and I was to pissed to ask when I was.

c. Did the fact that our friendship ended, over a dispute about Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged, have anything to do with my former best friend’s suicide in 1980?

d. Was the son we lost ever conscious after labor had to be induced when my wife’s water broke too soon? I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t actually remember the date this happened, but I’ll bet that my ex-wife does.

e. I never said so before he died in 1995, but did my friend from work - the friend who taught me so much - ever know just how much I liked him? "You’ve got to be smarter than what you’re working with," is still one of the coolest things I’ve ever heard.

f. What were my mother’s final thoughts while dying, unnoticed, on the floor of the L.A. rest home she had been left in by my niece, who apparently couldn’t be bothered with her any more? That was in 2004.

g. From tonight’s episode, how would I react to having someone tell me that the ’memories’ I seem to be having are actually true recollections from a previous life?

h. What was really going on when I was in that medically-induced coma, when I seemed to be flying over strange lands, out into space, and even into the future?

i. And does the fact that, in my dreams, I return over and over to people and places I have no conscious memory of mean that I actually exist in multiple worlds at the same time? While I find the possibility quite intriguing, the reality of it scares me half to death.

7. I read or heard somewhere that plants like wheat and rye are subject to disease that can cause people to become sick and/or delusional. I’ve even heard it said that, during the Salem witch trials, some testimony about things the accused had supposedly done where actually hallucinations caused by ingesting bread made from tainted grain. If this is true, then doesn’t it shine doubt on other visions of ’supernatural events’ referenced in our history books and religious tomes? Speaking as one who has had hallucinations from illness as well as from ’other’ causes, I know all too well just how real they can seem.

8. Regarding the last item, I suppose that there are those who now asking, "Is that why he’s so &#%@ed up?" The fact is that, however hallucinations are caused, the processes within the brain are the same. You should no more doubt my faculties than you would doubt the faculties of anyone who has previously had a high fever. While I may have shown poor judgement in the past, you should judge my current reasoning capacity by my current actions. And I submit that the contents of this Weblog stand as clear testimony that my rational faculties are in good working order. Bedeep, bedeep, that’s all folks!

9. I hear that Barak Obama is trying to quit smoking. Borrowing a bit from the movie Airplane! "Man did he pick a hard time to quit?"

10. Am I the only one who sees the ultimate irony in Visa calling their new credit card The Black Card?

Just kidding about the test. Did the thought of it make you thirsty?

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 5

2009-02-21T12:53:00.003-05:00

Here are even more of those endless questions. You should now be hearing the theme music from 2001: A Space Odyssey. If not, try increasing the volume on your TV set.

1. Have you ever heard the song Shout by the group Tears For Fears? If you’ve ever wondered what this weblog is all about, you’ll find a large part of the answer there.

2. There once was a fictional story about The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly. Why does the real life story so often come down to the cute, the weak, and the petty? I feel a song coming on: "The unsung western hero. He killed an Indian or three. And he made his name in Hollywood. To set the White man free. Jesus save me." - Jethro Tull.

3. It’s been said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Okay, we’re at the gates and they’re about to open. Who goes first? And yet another song: "Step right up. And don’t be shy. Because you will not believe your eyes." - The Tubes: She's A Beauty.

4. I’ve got to hand it to that Murphy guy. Not only did his laws provide all the warning we needed to avoid the monstrous pot hole we’ve all fallen into, but he’s completely unreachable by anyone wanting revenge for all the constant reminders. Isn’t that just too cool? The man sounds Noble Prize worthy to me.

5. As everyone rushes to jump on the bail-out bandwagon, I’m reminded of The Cars when they asked, "Who’s going to drive you home... tonight?"

6. As I write this, I am still without an Internet connection. I’m sure that there are many other people who’re in the same boat. So why does it appear that every business and TV station assumes we’re all connected? Perhaps they only care about those who are.

7. I don’t have a cable connection either, but I just love over-the-air commercial TV. Does anyone know how to enter deranged laughter into this thing?

8. I hate the fact that William Peterson is leaving CSI. But I felt the same way when Mandy Patempkin left Criminal Minds and that show is still going strong. So what the hell do I know? Maybe Lawrence Fishburne will make the show even better.

9. To quote the parrot from Aladdin: "Why am I not surprised" that the government’s forced conversion to DTV has turned out to be so badly managed?

10. Assuming the DTV conversion thing gets worked out, wouldn’t it be nice if it proves instrumental in breaking the high priced stranglehold the cable and satellite companies have on quality TV programming?

11. I saw a TV ad claiming that the makers of a child locator device trust only Duracell batteries in their product. I hate ads that try to use fear to sell products. In response, my twisted imagination spit out an alternate ending where the bad guy escapes in an electric car who’s makers also trust only Duracell batteries in their product. Am I sick or what?

12. Man I have got to get a life! I’m taking Styx’s Too Much Time On My Hands to unheard of new levels. Does anybody have one I can borrow?

13. Is any of this stuff funny? I’m too sober to tell. Maybe it’s all the caffeine, or the nicotine, or the lack of sleep...

14. PBS is advertising a new documentary about comedy. I know I haven’t seen the show yet, but could it possibly include anything more funny than Jim Lehrer trying to tell a joke?

15. Is it really fair to call a show Sex In The City when there’s no hard core action anywhere in it?

16. Does anyone really believe that the hot babes shown in those TV ads have nothing better to do than sit around chatting on the phone with a guy that can’t get a real date?

17. Is Judge Judy such a hard ass because she’s so old, the litigants are so stupid, or both? The latter would be my guess.

18. Where do I get a ticket to see Judge Judy do that bionic-superwoman-in-heels stunt live?

19. During his final press conference, President Bush said that another terrorist attack is still one of the greatest challenges to be faced by the incoming Obama administration. Do you think that the terrorists would be stupid enough to attack us now considering the likelihood that Obama’s popularity would cause the rest of the world to rise against them as never before? But then again, maybe the rest of the world is even more stupid than the terrorists.

20. Am I the only one who would have stood up and cheered if Bill Clinton had answered the attacks against him with, "Yeah, I had me some fun with that woman. Now I’ve got to answer to Hillary. Lord help me! So I will thank you to keep your damn noses out of our private lives, you ambulance chasing dogs!"

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 4

2009-02-21T12:34:00.002-05:00

Here are yet more of those endless questions.... Yadabing, yadaboom. You know how this goes.

1. Why do people insist that Robin Hood was a thief who robbed from the rich to give to the poor, when the story was actually about a man fighting to regain the riches stolen from him by the government? Equality by any means is Not the same as fighting for a just cause.

2. I heard that some ’great thinkers’ once debated the number of angels that could stand on the head of a pin. How did people stupid enough to waste their time like that ever learn to count in the first place?

3. People whine and complain about how they suffer from other people’s second-hand smoke. Who do I complain to about all the second-hand bull crap I have to put up with?

4. Why are Israelis and Palestinians killing each other over land that would be considered worthless by any other that mystical standards?

5. In the song The Last Resort, The Eagles said that when you "call some place paradise, you kiss it goodbye." History proves just how true this statement really is. But why?

6. Just because I live in Ohio, is it really fair that I’m limited to watching the Cincinnati Bungles and the Cleveland Clowns on Sunday? Maybe when I’m all growed up and rich and stuff, I’ll be able to get that NFL Sunday Ticket on Direct TV!

7. If we really want to get rid of racism, shouldn’t we just force everyone to make babies with someone of a different race? Nah! It wouldn’t work. We’d just replace racism with ’shadism.’

8. For those who want to guarantee the ’purity’ of their race, may I suggest in-breeding? Oh wait. That’s how you got to be that way to begin with. No, I’m not just being facetious. The races quite literally evolved over the millennia through isolated groups breeding only within their group.

9. Why are people just now realizing that they can save money by re-using their sandwich bags? While I don’t have much use for sandwich bags, I’ve been washing and re-using my resealable storage bags for years. Not only do I save money this way, but it’s ’eco-friendly’ to boot.

10. Why do people keep shooting each other? Haven’t they ever heard about lead poisoning? Okay, I know it’s a lame joke and also two questions, but I’m just a kid at heart. What do I know? "Oops I did it again..."

11. If, as Rush says in Entre Nous, "The spaces in between leave room for us to grow." Then why do we fill those spaces with barriers to prevent us from growing together?

12. If, as Pink Floyd says in Your Possible Pasts, "I was just a child then. Now I’m only a man." When do I get to be more?

13. I think it’s so unfair to burden our children with being ’the hope for our future.’ Wouldn’t it be better to inspire them by demonstrating that we are ’the hope for their present?’

14. We adults don’t like talking to our kids about a ’sensitive’ subjects like sex. And we damn well won’t allow other adults to talk to them about it either. But do we really think that our kids are better off learning about sex from other, equally ignorant, kids on the streets and playgrounds?

15. Why is it that, no matter how long I’ve waited for a bus, it always comes right after I light a cigarette?

16. Will someone please tell me just what kind of mighty morphin’ movie magic was used to transform our system of Justice Tempered By Mercy into the system of Mercy Tempered By Justice we have now?

17. If it’s true that sweet attracts more flies that sour, then why does a steaming pile of crap have them both beat hands down?

18. I may be an Unbeliever, but I absolutely support the right of a doctor or pharmacist to refuse to provide what they consider to be legal yet morally objectionable services, as long as they don’t act to prevent other doctors and pharmacists from doing so. My only question is: Why deny this freedom to other business owners regardless of their reasons? I don’t want to do business with someone who thinks I’m a piece of crap, and a truly free society will always have those who care more about my money and less about my politics.

19. With the ’bad economy’ causing so much downward pressure on both wages and prices, I wonder if we could’ve avoided some of this trouble by not being so greedy in the first place? If so, then perhaps there’s nothing ’wrong’ with our economy at all and this is all simply a ’market correction.’

20. The next four items can be categorized as "But why Daddy? Because I said so!" or "Do as I say, not as I do!"

a. Considering how we treat the rich as if they couldn’t possibly have earned their wealth, should we really be surprised when only those who’ll take it any way they can get it seek to be rich?

b. After spending so much effort denigrating the legal and political professions, why should anyone be surprised that the people willing to go into them are also the kind of people who can be tempted into corruption?

c. After spending so much time, effort, and money criminalizing the activities of millions of Americans, why should anyone be surprised that our society is now filled with outlaws?

d. After making it the sworn duty of our police to arrest people who have harmed no one other than themselves, why are we then surprised when the resulting conflict of interest leads to corruption and dereliction of duty?

The following should be read as if spoken by Walter Cronkite. ’And so it ends for now. Join us again next time for more questions from the ridiculous to the profound on...’

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 3

2009-02-21T12:24:00.003-05:00

Questions, questions everywhere, but I do wonder if anyone cares.

1. I loved reading Ayn Rand’s novel Anthem, as well as the beautiful tribute to it by Rush in 2112. In the book, however, society had devolved to the point where candles were amongst their greatest accomplishments. This was because they had rejected the philosophical basis on which a technological society must stand. In contrast, 2112 described a society dominated by a ruling class that used technology to enforce the same philosophical denials found in Anthem. This issue is important to me because I see signs of the same type of devolution happening in the real world, as evidenced by the dwindling numbers of young people taking up careers in the very disciplines used to build our modern world. Now, having an electronics background and a continuing interest in computers, I know that self-maintaining systems could one day become a reality. So my question is this: Could such a philosophically backwards society as that described in 2112 ever exist?

2. Ever since reading Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged, I have been intrigued by the motor invented by the character John Galt, which ran on energy drawn directly from the Earth’s atmosphere. The few people I’ve discussed this with have all responded that such a device was impossible. But mankind has a long history of accomplishing things previously thought to be impossible. So I’m not so easily dissuaded. The way I see it, what we call ’weather’ is just nature’s rather chaotic way of seeking to balance the enormous energies produced by the even more enormous forces at work in, on, and around our planet. And if you’ve ever seen lightning you know that tapping into those energies is possible. The Earth does it thousands of times a day. Given that, wouldn’t you agree that it would be worthwhile to do some research into what could possibly be an unlimited source of energy and a way of taming the weather?

3. Now I believe that a person has an inviolate right to do anything with his money he wants, but I have been seeing almost the same ads asking for help for the starving kids of the world since I was a poor kid myself. Yet there seems to be more starving kids in the world than ever before. What’s up with that? I thought we’d figured out what causes kids.

4. This ’question’ is inspired by the TV show The Mentalist, which is on as I write. The way the main character, Jane(?), uses keen observation and deductive reasoning to solve mysteries puts him on par with Mr. Holmes himself. The particular thing that inspired me to rush to the keyboard was the response he gave when a cop mistakenly, and with typical disdain, referred to him as "that Psychic she’d heard about." I suppose the writers thought that the air of mysticism they cloak the guy in adds more appeal to the show, but having him answer, "There are no such things as Psychics." was just the perfect touch. Perfect because I feel like I’ve spent my entire life fighting to stay sane while drowning in a virtual sea of mysticism and superstition. Now with all this in mind, just how do you think that I have ’known,’ since I was a kid in the 70’s, that we were headed for both religion-inspired warfare and economic disaster? And trust me, we ain’t seen nothing yet. I really hope I’m wrong, but I haven’t been so far.

5. There was recent news that a Chinese company will soon market an electric car at roughly half the price of the much heralded Chevy Volt. The company’s automotive venture stems from it’s roots in the manufacture of, believe it or not, cell phone batteries! Could it be that we’d have been better off investing in Eveready rather than bailing out the auto industry? Maybe they could call their new car The Energizer Bunny! It keeps going and going...

6. On the subject of driving, wouldn’t a reckless driver be more accurately described as a ’wreckfull’ driver? Okay, my spell checker kind of spoiled this one a little. I actually thought the word was spelled ’wreckless.’ But damn it, the principle still matters!

7. On the subject of misused words, why do we call a someone who works hard to care for the things most important to him ’selfless’ and someone who apparently couldn’t care less ’selfish.’ Why if I didn’t know better... Hey wait. I don’t know better! Someone is trying to steal my self. Doe! That’s like the soul, right?

8. Regardless of how I may feel about the military or my experiences therein, it still pisses me of to hear people toss around words like ’service’ and ’sacrifice’ as if their experiences could in any way meet the definitions known all too well by those who have either survived, or have lost loved one to, real suffering. Just what do people think those words mean?

9. If a mother calls it a ’sacrifice’ to buy her kid new shoes for school instead of new kicks for herself to go clubbing, doesn’t that mean that she values her kicks more than she values her kid?

10. If harm to any part harms the whole, then why do we consider it a ’duty’ to give ’til it hurts?

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 2

2009-02-21T12:11:00.004-05:00

Here are some more of those endless questions that come gurgling out of the sea of confusion inside my head. As before, they’re presented randomly and cover pretty much anything that strikes my fancy.

1. I was a Weather Observer Technician in the Air Force. I learned a lot about the subject, but still have some questions:

a. Why does the Earth’s atmosphere rotate towards the east even faster than the Earth itself? Common sense would have the atmosphere moving because of friction with the rotating Earth, with the Earth ’pulling’ the atmosphere along. But the facts would seem to indicate the opposite.

b. The Coriolis effect is what causes weather systems to rotate clockwise in the southern hemisphere and counter-clockwise in the northern hemisphere. I believe it causes the atmosphere to ’dip’ towards the equator. Again, however, common sense would have me expect that atmosphere moving faster than the Earth would rotate in directions opposite to what the facts show. Why is this?

c. I’m not sure about the southern hemisphere, but considering the two previous points, why do actual storms, including tornados, tend to move to the north and east in the northern hemisphere?

2. Why should ’the person who has everything’ even be on my Christmas list, let alone anywhere near the top?

3. Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone could read everyone else’s mind? No more lying and cheating. No reason to even believe that lying and cheating would gain you anything. No more overpopulation problems. Plenty of resources... for those who survive. Sounds great to me!

4. Warning: multi-part question! I have only the kernel of a theory that has been bouncing around in the back of my mind for years. I call it consensual reality. It’s so nebulous that I have a hard time even putting it into words. But it starts with a question like: When you and I see an object and we both say that the object is red, how do we know that we’re both actually seeing the same color? If we’re all taught to think ’red’ when we see a certain color, we will seem to be seeing the same color when we all agree that a thing is red. But are we? How do we know? Are there other aspects of reality that are affected by this? While color confusion seems to be inconsequential, could there be other, more profound, effects?

5. Let’s face it, humans are dominated by fear of the things we can’t explain or control. Historically, we’ve dealt with these things by ignoring them, by destroying them, or by fabricating comfortable scenarios that allow us to live with them while maintaining the belief in our indomitability. But what do we do when we encounter that which is so irrefutably alien and beyond our ability to destroy that we are forced to acknowledge our true place in the grand scheme of things?

6. Does the feeling that I walk around with a bright sign over my head derive from my belief that I’m a very poor liar?

7. You might have noticed that I tend to be a bit long-winded. Was the short-hand speech everyone else seems to have mastered taught during all that time I was cutting school in the library?

8. Why do people say it was a ’simple misunderstanding’ when it was actually more of a "failure to communicate?"

9. Why do we insist on trying to make sense out of nonsense?

10. If we have learned nothing else from all the ’scientific exploration’ we’ve done, it should be that we live in a very dangerous universe. Just ask the dinosaurs. Why is it then, that no one uses that argument when seeking to justify the space program?

Okay, my brain is cramping up again. But fear not - or should I say ’cheer’ not? - for I will strike again!

I want ice water.

Addiction and The True Calling

2009-02-20T16:15:00.001-05:00

When I was in drug rehabilitation, the given definition of addiction was, "a relationship with a mood altering experience that has life damaging consequences." Note that this definition makes no mention of the actual thing to which the person is addicted. Be it alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex, work, or stamp collecting, it’s the consequence of the individual’s relationship with it that transforms that relationship into an addiction.

In short, an addict is a person who allows his pursuit of a thing to ruin the very life he seeks to enhance by pursuing it in the first place. Which brings me to point of this post: the addictive personality. This, I believe, is the true ’disease’ behind the symptom of addiction. You see, I have an addictive personality. When I find something that turns me on, whether it’s drugs, sex, work, computer programming, reading, listening to music, or writing, I fall head over heels into it at the cost of everything else.

It’s like The Neverending Story, where the kid falls into the book whenever he opens it. In fact, that’s the precise image I invoked to describe my addiction to reading. I would literally become so involved in whatever I was reading that I didn’t sleep, I didn’t eat, I didn’t even go to work. I remember once, when I had finally got my hands on the last book in The Chronicles Of Thomas Covenant, I used speed to allow me to stay awake while I read all six books in four days. Fortunately, if I can even use that word, I did this during an extended work break. But you can bet that my wife wasn’t too pleased.

Using another analogy, I refer you to the episode of The Twilight Zone where Burgess Meredith played a guy who wished for nothing more than the unfettered freedom to pursue his love of reading. He was so happy when a great holocaust left him all alone to do just that - until he broke his glasses! As crazy as it sounds, that was both my dream and my nightmare during those times. I still get chills of anxiety when I think of it.

This particular addiction got so bad that my emotions began to run wild, eventually leading to the choked-down rage and impossible-to-hide crying episodes that have plagued me ever since. To this day, I get so emotional when I read a good book or listen to my favorite songs that it completely ruins the experience. If it weren’t for the anti-depressants I take, I couldn’t even muster the courage to try.

And it’s the same for all the other things that trigger my ’disease.’ In addition to space travel and super-heroes, I was absolutely obsessed with sex as a kid. On the job, I worked more overtime than anyone. When I learned to program, I thought of nothing else. When I could no longer work, I stayed home to binge on marijuana, programming, reading, music, pornography, writing (mostly porn), and all the crack cocaine I could get my hands on to ’help’ me do all those things non-stop. I can’t say why it’s important to me to point this out, but I simply wanted speed during this period and crack was what I was able to find.

Ironically, I was actually looking for a way to kill myself when I stumbled upon crack. And as sick as it might sound, it actually gave me something to live for, at least for a while, since it had a kind of Popeye’s Spinach effect on me. When I finally lost my family and my friends, I lapsed into a hermit-like state that I’m just now beginning to come out of. My misery was so complete at one point that I even tried drinking to numb my pain and shut down my head, and when that didn’t work I turned back to suicide. Fortunately both alcohol and ’downers’ make me puke, so I didn’t succeed at either. Trust me, I haven’t always thought that was such a fortunate thing.

Now as I’ve said before, in addition to being a source of pleasure for me, writing serves as a kind of therapy. But the pen, or rather the keyboard, can be a double-edged sword for me. If you’ve followed this blog at all, you’ll have noticed that I have written quite a lot. In fact, I’ve done little else since I started this blog in the middle of November ’08. Such is the dilemma that I now face. I love what I’m doing so much, and finally feel that I’m really serving a worthwhile cause, that I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve found my ’true calling.’ But my experience forces me to wonder if this is just another symptom of my ’disease.’

You know how it’s said that you can’t see the forest for the trees? It’s like that when I try to weigh the consequences of this continuous writing. I don’t work, other than my writing, and I have no particular place to be. When I do have an appointment, I keep it. I take my med’s and prepare all my own meals. And the lack of a social life is ’normal’ for me. So aside from missing a lot of sleep, drinking too much coffee, and smoking too many cigarettes, it’s hard to find a truly negative consequence. But if I were a ’normal’ person with a job and family to tend to, this behavior would be excessive to say the least.

So for once I am truly at a loss. It’s not like there’s anyone I trust to advise me in this area. The psychiatrists and psychologists can’t seem to see past my drug abuse, ignoring the fact that my ’disease’ predates my drug abuse by many years. And the rehab community can only suggest that I turn my will over to ’a higher power’ or to ’the group’ - neither of which are acceptable to me. So I guess that I’ll just have to keep on doing what feels right. And that is to "Keep On Truckin’."

I welcome your comments. But still, as always,

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Racism

2009-02-20T16:03:00.002-05:00

Because of the profound effect that this issue has had on me personally, deciding how to tackle the subject of racial intolerance has been a difficult task. Growing up in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s as the offspring of racially mixed parents has provided me with more than a little experience with racism. So much so that I hardly know where to begin. But I know that in order to give this issue a fair and rational review, I must be willing to set aside the emotions evoked by it. As one who suffers from depression, brought on in part by my experiences in this area, I hope that you can understand why this is difficult for me. I’m certainly no Mr. Spock, but I do know to use reason and logic to get at the root of a problem.

The first thing to be done is to untangle of all the imagery and confusion that any discussion of race is bound to provoke. Now everybody knows about America’s history involving the enslavement of Blacks. And while there is absolutely no way to excuse that, it is helpful to remember that Blacks represent just one case in a very long history of similar travesties committed by Man. In fact, I think you’d have a hard time finding any group that hasn’t been similarly mistreated at one time or another. Next we must realize that many acts considered to be racially motivated have actually been motivated by what is commonly called peer pressure. I call it collectivist politics.

Anyone who has spent much time with other people, and I’ve had just about enough, has to have noticed that a person’s behavior can be profoundly influenced by those around them. Only an idiot actually believes that a person deserves to be mistreated because of his skin color. But even an idiot knows he can be outcast if he doesn’t get with the program. This same logic applies whether the issue involves race, religion, ethnicity, sexual preference, or the side of the tracks one was born on. So you see the real issue is not racism at all. This is behavior motivated by collectivist politics - the evil acts of one group against another as justified by the mere fact that the first group is stronger and the other group is ’different.’

When I was a little kid in Charleston, West Virginia, the police would routinely conduct these brutal sweeps to clear the streets of my neighborhood. All of the cops were White. All of those arrested were Black. I’d like to believe that this was done to keep homeless drunks from causing trouble, but that could just be wishful thinking. During this same period I was often the butt of jokes about how I would eventually try to pass myself off as White. As you can probably imagine, discovering that people thought that way about me was not only confusing, but damn scary as well.

In 1965, during a car trip back from spending Christmas in Florida with my father, I got locked inside a White owned restaurant in Georgia. Being a naive little boy, I had run ahead to be the first one inside. I was so busy spinning on one of the bar stools that I didn’t even notice that the doors had been locked after I came in, to keep my dad and his girlfriend out. Because of my appearance, no one inside realized that I was with them until I ran to the door my dad was pounding on. I’m not sure if I was more afraid of being locked inside or of what my father would do if they didn’t open the door. Those poor fools had no idea of the kind of man there were keeping from his son. Fortunately, an apologetic waitress let me out and my dad’s girlfriend was able to talk my dad into just leaving.

In 1966 the country apparently went nuts from all the racial tension. Because I still had a small shred of innocence left in me, my first knowledge of this came when my Black friends decided that we should leave our elementary school in protest. Unfortunately, the only White friend I had at the time had been assigned, as playground monitor, to prevent kids from wandering off. Because I was so desperate to be considered genuinely Black for a change, I allowed myself to be pressured into being the one to remove ’the White obstruction to our freedom.’ He was just a good kid trying to do what he was assigned to do, so he refused. It was then, out of embarrassment and frustration, that I committed one of the most shameful acts of my life by punching him in the stomach. I was so disgusted with myself that I couldn’t even leave with the others. I’m not sure why he didn’t report me, but I lost a good friend forever.

In 1968, while living in Los Angeles, I was jumped by two Black kids because according to them, and unbeknownst to me, their classroom was at war with my classroom. That got me started on the path from being the sixth grade salutatorian to being one of the world’s worst truants. When Dr. King was murdered a few months later, I was terrified at the prospect of looking so White while living in an all Black community. This was because there were rumors about Black gangs venting their wrath on Whites.

In 1969, while I was riding a bicycle a few blocks from home, some Black people sent their dog after me. When they discovered that they actually knew me, after I had fallen and broken my arm, they said that they’d only done it because they thought I was White. After that I went almost nowhere, let alone to school. With truancy being a such big issue with the government, and with my attitude turning more negative by the day, I became more ’trouble’ than my Sister wanted to deal with. So she shipped me back to my Mom in Ohio.

All of these things can be attributed to racism, and it’s clear to me that the stupidity operates in all directions. However, they can also be attributed to collectivist thinking motivating a desire to impress one group at the expense of others. That was certainly the case when I punched my friend in the stomach.

If you’ve read my Opening Rant article, then you’re familiar with my belief that each of us thinks and acts according to the personal philosophy we have chosen to guide us - whether we’re conscious of that choice or not. And Collectivism is the most dangerous kind of philosophy precisely because it’s so nebulous and unspoken - exactly what appeals to the masses who can’t be bothered to look beyond the moment. Simply stated, Collectivism allows that anything is okay so long as it can be justified as ’necessary’ by those powerful enough to impose their will. While it has been used historically to dominate Autocracies and Theocracies, it’s most commonly found in the form it takes in today’s so-called Democracies.

Now please don’t misunderstand me. I believe that democratic rule can be the ideal form of government. But we’ll never achieve that ideal so long as the majority simply bow to collectivist politics because they’re too stupid or too afraid to object. Let’s take a look at where this type of thinking as gotten us so far, shall we.

Apparently, just about everyone said the Hebrews were inferior. Voila! Hebrews were persecuted for many, many years!

The Roman and the Jews said the Christians were dangerous. Voila! Christians were persecuted for many, many years!

The Christians said the Holy Land must be purged. Voila! We got Crusaders!

The Muslims said the Holy Land must be purged. Voila! We got Jihad!

The Whites proclaimed Manifest Destiny. Voila! Ethnic cleansing of Native Americans!

The Whites said that Blacks were inferior. Voila! 400 years of Black enslavement!

The Nazis said the Jews should be exterminated. Voila! Fire up the ovens!

During WWII, the majority said we just can’t trust them slant eyes. Voila! Americans in concentration camps!

After WWII, the majority said that the Jews deserve their promised land. Voila! Israelis in, Palestinians out!

Muslim extremists decided to attack The Great Satan. Voila! We got 9/11!

The U.S. retaliated for 9/11. Duh? We go to war in Iraq? Doe!

And let us not forget those ’special’ cases where those imposing their will didn’t seem so dangerous. Voila! We got Rioters, Bombers, Snipers, Terrorists, and School Massacres!

Just in case you thought there was none, let’s now take a look at how this kind of thinking affects the economy.

The majority said the wealthy should pay more taxes. Voila! We got a progressive tax scale!

The wealthy hired lawyers to fight against excessive taxes. Voila! We got tax sheltering and tax evasion!

The majority said the poor should pay less taxes. Voila! The primary users of government services pay almost nothing for them!

The majority said we shouldn’t use ’illegal’ drugs. Voila! We got ourselves a drug war on all fronts and a prison system bursting at the seams - very expensive!

The majority said we should unleash the power of Wall Street so everyone can pay less taxes. Voila! We got economic disaster!

The majority screamed, "DO SOMETHING." Voila! It’ll take generations to pay off all this debt!

If you were to ask anyone in the majority if they were wrong when these decisions were being made, the response would almost certainly be a resounding "Hell no! Just ask anybody!" Those who suffer from these ’high minded’ decisions would of course be dismissed as ignorant scum who’s opinions don’t count anyway. And most of them were usually too ignorant or too afraid to speak out anyway. Remember the little boy who dared to ask why the Emperor was naked? The sad fact is, if you searched through all of history, you’d have a hard time finding a single man-made disaster that didn’t have some sort of collectivist rationale behind it.

As far as the treatment of Blacks in America is concerned, our great leaders - the Black leadership as well as the federal government - have merely tried to replace one collectivist nightmare with another. It must be remembered that every one of the state and local governments that looked so bad during the civil rights movement were financed by public funds. But instead of passing - and enforcing - laws that would have made it impossible for them to use tax money for racially biased policies, our leaders - with complete approval from the majority - have simply instituted a racially based ’quota system’ in it’s place.

Again, it must be remembered that the majority of Whites were actually behind the civil rights movement, even if many were afraid to show it. Laws that would have taken away the power of local government to enforce the ’peer pressure’ of a powerful minority on them was all that they needed to speak out. But instead of actually leveling the playing field by guaranteeing the individual’s right to decide who deserves his or her support, the federal government has wasted many billions of dollars on a collectivist bureaucracy founded on institutionalized racism.

The bottom line is that what we call racism is only one of the countless faces of collectivist politics. And if we want to have better relations between any of the various groups on Earth, we’re going to have to rid ourselves of the profound stupidity that stands in the way: Collectivism. If President Obama is as smart as he seems, he’ll focus the spotlight on the real issues and not allow it to be pointed at something so trivial as the color of his skin.

After all, everyone will be nicely tanned in the future. Deal with it!

A good metaphor for how we've dealt racism in this country can be found in The Trees by the group Rush.

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Religion

2009-02-20T15:53:00.002-05:00

Right from the start, I must state that I have difficulty tolerating religion of any kind. While I’ve found the majority of the religious people I have known to be kind and decent in general, I doubt that I’ll ever really trust anyone who’s choices are guided by belief in the supernatural. This mistrust is a big part of the ’hate’ half of my relationship with my fellow man. The ’love’ half, on the other hand, derives from the potential for greatness that we all so clearly possess. It’s that potential that gives me hope for a better tomorrow and the faith that we can learn to deserve it.

To the point then. This article is intended to discuss religious intolerance. This is a peculiar issue indeed, as it seems to me that the only ones showing a lack of tolerance for religious belief are the religious people themselves. Only a rare few atheists even speak out against religion, let alone commit the kind of cruel and horrible acts associated with this issue. And yet, history shows that supernatural mythology - Mysticism - has been used to justify the most heinous atrocities ever committed by men.

Even when men like Stalin and Mao sought to eradicate religion’s influence in the horrible manner that they did, it was only because they wanted to replace that influence with one equally as irrational and dangerous: Statism. And while I don’t say that they’re actions were in any way defensible, what they did was entirely to be expected in the anything goes atmosphere created when we believe that our lives our best managed by ’other’ hands. I’ll talk more about the other ’isms’ in another article.

Now I’d like to be able to present all the pros and cons applicable to this discussion, so that I’ll not be thought of as ’heartless’ or ’unfeeling.’ But the ugly truth is that there are no ’pros’ to shine a favorable light on irrational thoughts and actions. And as much as I hate to be the one to burst the bubble of hope that some supernatural force will step in to save us in the eleventh hour, I must instead remind you that the hell we live in is of our own making and we are the only ’power’ available to chill things out.

At it’s base, all religions stand on the belief that Man will behave badly if left to his own devices. They were created as a means of regulating Mankind’s base nature in order to provide for a more civilized world. And Man’s history of behaving badly when he isn’t controlled seems to back that up. I’m sure that those who founded the religions of the world saw great merit in teaching that there was a power greater then Man that would impose justice on even the very powerful.

But manipulating the ignorant inevitably leads to great numbers of ignorant people who are vulnerable to manipulation, and there will always be those who would take advantage of that vulnerability to further their own less than enlightened ends. And that is precisely what has resulted from a history filled with attempts to control people by leveraging their superstitions against them. Despite some very good things that have been done in the name of God, the balance of history falls far more heavily on the side of tragedy.

Obviously, Mankind does need to know that there’s a price to be paid for behaving badly. But that knowledge cannot be gained by those who choose to be ignorant. That knowledge can only come through rigorous dedication to learning how the universe actually works, so that we can better foresee the results of our actions. Only by having the courage to seek out and live by the truth, can we ever hope to achieve a truly civilized world. Our influence on one another should be limited to leadership by example and genuinely constructive criticism.

Okay, today is Christmas, so I’ll try to show some charity. To lighten the mood a little, I offer this: I don’t recall if it was on The Outer Limits or The Twilight Zone, but thoughts of religion always remind of the episode where the helpful aliens arrived on Earth bearing a big book with the title To Serve Man. Call me a sentimental old fool, but I hope that the prayers of my religious friends aren’t dashed the way those poor Earthling’s were when they found out that To Serve Man was a cookbook! Well, maybe ’hope’ isn’t the exact word to describe my feelings.

Now I know that there will be those who say that the idea of aliens coming to Earth is just as irrational as the belief in God. Not true! Alien visitors would at least be actual physical beings that used technology derived from science to get here. God, on the other hand, is an all-knowing and all-powerful ’spirit’ who just happens to be so bored that he has nothing better to do than peek and poke into the ant farm he created just for us. Big difference! But maybe we’re both wrong. Maybe all those UFOs people report seeing are crammed full of God’s friends come to check out the nice zoo in the back yard of His crib.

If it’s any solace to my religious friends, I believe that however we came to exist, we’ve been ’given’ all that we need and then left alone and free to sort things out for ourselves. Of course, it doesn’t help that Christmas has become another justification for filling our kid’s heads with the belief that all their wishes can be granted by supernatural beings, not to mention the ’duty’ we feel to ’save’ our economy by spending our last dime on presents. If there’s a lesson to be learned from the current state of our economy, it’s that you can’t get something for nothing.

We must always count the costs of our aspirations, and have the guts to cut our losses when they’re not worth it. While it may be laudable to encourage feelings of love and giving, it’s downright inexcusable to deny credit to the very human beings doing all the giving. And ’humble’ is not the word I’d use to describe how, even when the huge bills arrive after this orgy of self-sacrifice and greed, people will still somehow consider it ’godly’ to have behaved in such a manner.

Please don’t misinterpret my statements to mean that I advocate denying anyone the right to be religious. What I’m trying to advocate is true freedom of thought and speech for everyone, and the evaluation of points of view based on the respect they earn through free and open-minded deliberation. Just as our children must grow beyond the myths we use to protect and inspire them during their early years, so Mankind must grow beyond the mythologies that, while helpful in more primitive times, now threaten not only our prosperity but our very survival as a species. We must grow up before we can rightfully call ourselves ’advanced’ beings.

I can’t resist a parting shot at the three religions I’m most familiar with. For the Christians, Jethro Tull said that "If Jesus saves, well he’d better save himself, from the gory glory seekers who use his name in death." For the Muslims, I can only misquote the monster from Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein: "Islam-a-BAD!" And finally, do I really have to do any more than remind everyone that the Jews think that they are God’s ’chosen’ people?

To close, I’ll just include a bit more from that wise old minstrel Jethro Tull:

"How do you dare to tell me, that I’m my father’s son?

When that was just an accident of birth.

I’d rather look around me. Compose a better song.

’Cause that’s the honest measure of my worth.

In your pomp and all of your glory, you’re a poorer man than me.

As you lick the boot of death worn out of fear...

When I was young, and they packed me off to school.

And they taught me how not to play the game.

I didn’t mind if they groomed me for success

Or if they said that I was just a fool.

So to my old headmaster, and to anyone who cares,

Before I’m through I’d like to say my prayers.

Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school.

And have all the Bishops harmonize these lines:

I don’t believe you. You had the whole damned thing all wrong.

He’s not the kind you have to wind up on Sunday."

Sorry. The ’devil’ made me do it!

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Prostitution

2009-02-20T15:39:00.002-05:00

Prostitution. It’s not called "the world’s oldest profession" for nothing. I think it’s safe to say that as long as there have been people desiring sex without entanglements there have been prostitutes to meet the demand. And it’s no doubt equally safe to say that prostitutes have always been reviled by those who think that sex without entanglements is wrong. Few societies have seen fit to allow the free practice of prostitution, and yet I can think of no society in which it did not flourish in one form or another. In fact, while there will always those who condemn the prostitute, there are also those who think that society couldn’t function without them.

Prostitution thrives in many forms in America today, from the illegal street hustlers and high-end call girls (and boys), to the legalized form practiced in Nevada. Services are advertised in every form of media from the classifieds in your local paper to the Internet. Prostitutes work as independent contractors and as associates in varying sized organizations. Indeed, they come in all flavors and promise to fulfill any desire. So where is the harm? Why hasn’t this profession been given the respect that other professions get? Just what is the public outcry all about? Man! That’s a tall order. Where do I begin?

First there are the religious objections. Sex outside of marriage has always been wrong to those who practice the most popular religions. So sex-for-pay, to them, is an outright outrage! Next there are the criminal and public nuisance objections. Those who take this stand argue about the added crime that comes with the sex-for-pay trade, such as robbery, drug abuse, and abuse from pimps and johns. They also argue about the nuisance caused by prostitutes plying their trade in areas that should be kept clear for ’decent’ purposes. And then there are the public health concerns. Those who argue from this position point out how prostitution spreads sexually transmitted diseases, some of which are potentially fatal.

So in light of all this evidence against prostitution, and considering that none of it has helped to eradicate the practice, what would a more reasoned approach entail? Perhaps an attempt to untangle some of the imagery and confusion associated with the issue would be a good place to start. I’ll try to do so by listing a few facts.

1. Sex outside marriage is a fact of life. Deal with it.

2. We will never eliminate prostitution. Deal with it.

3. There are legal arrangements that work.

4. Expanded legalization can also work because:

a. Licensed professionals earn a decent wage and don’t need to commit robbery.

b. Licensed professionals don’t need a pimp’s protection because they have recourse to the law.

c. Licensed professionals don’t need to walk the streets because they can advertise their services and/or join organized businesses.

d. Licensed professionals can be routinely tested for sexually transmitted diseases and drugs.

I think this shows that finding a rational way of dealing with the ’problem’ of prostitution isn’t so complicated after all.

I have known quite a few prostitutes during my life. Both from my childhood when my father was a pimp with his own brothel, and from my adult experiences living in the underground ’drug’ culture. I don’t think that anyone, other than the prostitutes themselves, can truly understand why they choose to be prostitutes knowing the contempt and abuse that comes with that lifestyle. But it’s a fact that their profession is not alone in having to deal with such questions.

Because of my ’vast experience’ with prostitutes, I have never been comfortable using their services because I feared being seen as just another aggressive, and potentially abusive, man they’d have to deal with. And the fact that both sides of that equation has been forced on us by the arrogant and irrational manner in which society has dealt with the issue thus far only serves to enhance my discomfort.

I’m not saying that society will become ’Heaven on Earth’ if we choose another way of dealing with prostitution, or that it will ever become a comfortable topic to discuss at social gatherings. But it is clear that the approach we have taken has not led to our society being lifted to a higher moral plane. If anything, the inhumanity of the current approach has pushed us all in the other direction.

Perhaps, if we are sincere when we proclaim our intent to rise above the example of Mankind’s history, all we really need is the courage to get real and the compassion to care more about actual people than we do about being politically correct.

And don’t we have enough real criminals to deal with?

I want ice water.

It's Time To Prove Ourselves Again

2009-02-17T15:37:00.002-05:00

We’re now only months away from the forty year anniversary of Man’s greatest achievement: the landing of two men on the surface of the moon. Until that time, Mankind had spent almost it’s entire history suffering under the delusion of being the powerless ’pets’ of supernatural beings who seemed to have nothing better to do that to meddle in human affairs. Somehow, we seemed to live at the center of a universe that was at once terrifying and unknowable. Gradually, and with great resistance from the fearful masses, we came to the more realistic view of ourselves as insignificant beings living on an insignificant planet in a universe that was vast beyond our wildest imaginations. We also came to realize that we weren’t so powerless after all, and the ultimate proof of that was our landings on the moon.

Unfortunately, our great successes has lead us to make the arrogant assumption that we have nothing left to prove - that we now stand alone as the masters of our reality and divorced from any dependence upon it. How wrong that assumption has proven to be as clearly evidenced by the state of the environment that we, and every other form of life we know of, must live in. While it’s certainly true that we have made great scientific strides in areas like technology and medicine in the years since, the fact that we have done so in such an irresponsible manner have all but undone the surge in confidence the moon landings gave us. And the current economic crisis is threatening to become the grave marker for all our dreams.

Indeed, the problems we now face appear to be coming from too many directions to face head on and so many of them seem to have the potential to overwhelm us by themselves, that we ironically find ourselves once again feeling powerless amidst an unknowable universe. But the truth is that, just as in the past, we are not powerless. We are not helpless. We are simply unfocused. Maybe that’s what President Kennedy saw in the early sixties. Remember, those were hard and frightening times too. Maybe he knew that all we needed was a great challenge to overcome to restore our confidence and prove to ourselves that we can overcome great obstacles. And maybe, just maybe, that’s all we need today.

But what challenge could we undertake to get those creative juices flowing again? What obstacle can we conquer that is both realistically achievable and spiritually fulfilling enough to grab the hearts of Mankind? I believe that we can overcome all of our troubles if we have to time to do so, but there is one problem that, if not solved quickly enough, threatens to rob us of the time we need to solve any of the others. And that is the disaster we have made of our environment. Oh I know that this is such a huge an nebulous problem, and I’ve heard all the arguments that seem to be at odds with each other. But the fact is that our dependence on fossil fuels lies at the heart of just about every environmental issue, and that is absolutely something we can do something about.

I believe that President Obama should use the anniversary of Man’s landing on the moon to challenge this nation to become completely independent of fossil fuels by the end of the next decade. Sure, a lot of people will scream that he is crazy and that it can’t be done, but people said the same things when President Kennedy challenged us to go to the moon. And let’s not forget all of the other great developments that came about as the result of achieving that impossible dream. The possibilities are endless from this one as well.

We are literally standing on the brink of the end of civilization as we know it. It’s up to us to decide what kind of future we want and what kind of future we deserve. It’s time to prove ourselves again.

I want ice water

My International Incident

2009-02-16T23:34:00.003-05:00

This article is about an incident I was involved in during the winter of ’75 and ’76, while I was still in the Air Force and stationed in the Panama Canal Zone. I had arrived there during the most significant ’break’ in my marriage and had spent the time since that break, both before and after moving to Panama, smoking as much marijuana as I could tolerate. And considering that, in Panama at that time, the stuff cost only $10 an ounce and $90 a pound, spending as much of my time as I could get away with stoned out of my mind was pretty easy.

You must understand that I joined the Air Force and got married when I was only seventeen years old. So while I was excited to visit what to me seemed a far off and exotic land, I was still little more than a child who felt trapped and isolated thousands of miles from anything that felt like home. As a matter of fact I had already gotten myself into trouble, only months after my arrival, by being caught in possession of marijuana in my barracks room with a couple of boys my age. Because one of the boys was only seventeen and both were civilian dependents of senior Air Force personnel, I was lucky that I was only fined, given a six month suspension of promotion, and forced to attend drug rehab classes. But despite this very clear warning, I still allowed my desire for companionship and my drug induced blindness to lead me even further down the path towards disaster.

At that time Panama was a virtual police state, which was plainly evident by the many national guardsmen in full military uniform and assault weapons positioned throughout the areas I visited. The people there were so poor and the slums were so heart breaking that the sights rivaled almost any shown in those commercials asking for help for the poor starving children of the world. It seemed that what little economic activity there was was focused almost entirely on catering to the U. S. personnel stationed in the canal zone. And when you consider the stereotypical wants of military men, it’s not surprising that much of that activity was frowned upon.

In addition to the abundance of marijuana and other plant-based drugs, Panama had a burgeoning population of prostitutes. While prostitution was strictly forbidden for Panamanian women it was, oddly enough, openly allowed for the thousands of women from other countries who had come there specifically for that reason. Apparently, these other countries where in such bad economic shape that it had become customary for some of their women to spend time as prostitutes in Panama while sending money back to their families at home. Of course, with the local women having such a hard time, the laws against prostitution did little to deter them from joining in the game.

Now every incoming soldier was warned of the potential danger of being caught up in trouble that might land them in a local jail. Because of the political problems between the U. S. and the government of Panama, American military personnel had been known to disappear into local incarceration with no one bothering to inform anyone of their situation. So it’s should come as no surprise that, despite the flagrant violation of military rules, GI’s preferred to do their ’partying’ on base where they felt a little more safe to enjoy themselves. I know for a fact that, in my barracks at least, hardly a night went by that somebody didn’t have one or more prostitutes in their room.

If you’ve read any of my other articles, you’ve probably already guessed at the kind of nightmare I was walking right into. But there’s no way you would be able to guess at the actual enormity of that nightmare. It all started so innocently, you see. Because I found trips into Panama City to be such sad and nerve wracking events, it was only rarely that I allowed someone to talk me into going with them. And it was on one of these ’adventures’ that an associate of mine approached two girls about getting together at some point to party. Being the extremely shy person that I was, I was just glad when he had finished telling them how to find us on base and we could move on. And I had completely forgotten about it when they actually came looking for us a few nights later.

By the time that night rolled around I had a room to myself, which I made my very own by placing the mattresses for two beds together in a big square on the floor and decorating the walls in a checkerboard pattern of photos and articles from Playboy and Penthouse magazines. I have no idea how I was able to get away with having a room in a military barracks look that way, considering the frowns of disapproval I got whenever inspections came around. But nevertheless it made the perfect spot for my friends to want to party in, so that’s where the four of us spent the evening.

I must make it very clear that this party was not planned by me in any way. In fact, I made it clear at the start that it had to end rather early because I was due to work a midnight to 8 am shift. Also, there was no sexual activity whatsoever, not because I didn’t want to, but because one of the girls was feeling sick and the other was concerned about her friend. So we spent the time we had talking and listening to music. Unfortunately, as the time for me to go to work came closer, the one girl became more and more sick. So sick in fact that by the time I had to go to work I simply didn’t have the heart to send her on the long bus ride back to wherever she lived. As idiotic as it may seem now, I decided to let her stay in my room overnight while I went to work.

What a bad decision that turned out to be! Again, you must understand that I left her in my room because I was trying to do the right thing. But I also acknowledge that I was fully aware of the risk that I was taking by doing so. I even chose leaving her in the room alone instead of seeking medical help for her because I wanted to avoid the trouble I would undoubtedly get into for having her there in the first place. All this I acknowledge without hesitation. Nevertheless, I was still shocked when, five minutes before my shift ended, I was contacted by the base’s chief of security.

I tried to pretend that I didn’t know what he was talking about at first, but my denials simply flew out the window when he told me what the housekeeping staff had found when they came in my barracks. Like imagery form some TV crime scene, the chief described how they had found a trail of blood leading from a very large pool on my bed to another very large pool originating from the girl’s vagina while she lay half-dead on the bathroom floor. As you might expect, I was in big trouble and my protestations of innocence fell on somewhat deaf ears.

Quite rapidly, this turned into an extremely embarrassing international incident with Panamanian officials accusing me of attempted murder and with the U. S government wanting to simply throw me to the wolves to make it all go away. The commander of the base had quite predictably, considering my record, filed the necessary paperwork to push for immediate court-martial proceedings. It seemed that everyone had turned their backs on me, including my ’friend’ that had been at the party that night. As for the other guys I lived and worked with, all I got from them were sick jokes about how large my penis had to be to cause so much damage.

Fortunately, military law requires that even naive fools like me get legal representation when stuck in such situations. And even more fortunately, I had a very good military lawyer assigned to my case. But even with all the phone calls he made and all the letters he sent out on my behalf, Captain Hood had a very steep hill to climb in order to save my hide. It helped some that it had been a pet peeve of his that enlisted men had these restrictions on who they could have in their barracks while officers could have pretty much any visitors they wanted, but the fact that the girl was in no condition to help with the remainder of the charges still left me with my butt very exposed.

I was all but court-martialed and on my way to prison when one of those amazing ’hallelujah’ things happened to save my ass. The girl came out of her coma and was decent enough to tell what actually happened that night - and what led up to it. As it turned out, she had had one of those back-alley type abortions only hours before she and her friend had come out to the base. I’m pretty sure that the Panamanian government wasn’t pleased at being denied the opportunity to stick it to the Americans more than they already had, and I know for a fact that my commanders were still quite pissed at my having made them look so bad, but in the end they were left with only the charge of having unauthorized personnel in my barracks to hold against me. And the fact that Capt. Hood had been campaigning against that rule as being discriminatory left them in a bad position even when it came down to that.

So to everyone’s great relief, they offered, and I accepted, an honorable discharge a full year before I would have been otherwise eligible. Provided, of course, that I was on a flight back home within a week. Naturally I was happy at the prospect of getting off so easy. I was also looking forward to going home to attempt the reunification of my marriage. But I was not happy that my Air Force career was coming to such a bad ending. You see, despite all of the trouble and my disillusionment with the military, I still had those naive and idealistic hopes that my service would end up being something I could be proud of. I really was quite ashamed that things ended up the way they did.

Well, to wrap up this sad and sordid tale, I spent the next week packing and shipping my stuff home, while at the same time taking all five of the G.E.D. tests in just two sessions with almost no preparation whatsoever. Amazingly, after arriving home from the tropics in the dead of winter, I later received the results from those tests along with a letter from Captain Hood praising me for having gotten above average scores under such difficult circumstances. I was very happy with the results, and with the praise he though that I deserved, but both things were also painful reminders of how little I had done with the potential I had.

This sense of failure stayed with me through all of the years I spent struggling to get a degree while still getting stoned to alleviate some of the pain. It bothered me so much that as soon as I got my Associates Degree, I headed out to try and re-enlist. That’s when I discovered that the Air Force hadn’t let me off so easily after all. While it didn’t matter much in my civilian life according to the recruiter, a re-enlistment rating of 5 was the worst that it got for a anyone hoping to return to the military. According to him, this rating was so bad that he had thought it was reserved only for traitors and such. You know, the ’Benedict Arnold’ types.

After I explained to the recruiter what had happened in Panama, he agreed that a rating of 5 was a bit extreme. He even explained the process through which the rating could be appealed. But he made it clear that such an appeal was long, costly and rarely successful. In the end he advised that, considering that those records were off limits to civilian employers and were automatically erased after a few years anyway, I should just move on with my life away from the military.

So much for working for a happy ending by trying to make things right.

I want ice water.

Déjà Vu All Over Again

2009-02-16T23:20:00.002-05:00

Like an old vinyl record with a bad scratch, history seems to be repeating itself - yet again. I know that I will not be the first person to point this out, but there are features within the current loop that no one seems to have noticed. While the talking heads have covered, in exasperating detail, the dire state of the economy and the rampant business and political failures that have led to it, they seem to have overlooked some of the environmental similarities to depression era times.

Like before The Great Depression, everyone can see that we’ve been going through a long period of rapid growth fueled by incredible technological advances and over-optimistic expectations of what those advances meant for the future. But also like before The Great Depression, we’ve had decades of increasing distrust of government, of big business, and of people with wealth and power in general. And just like before The Great Depression, we have failed to recognize the ramifications of that distrust.

Like before The Great Depression, everyone can see that we’ve gone through years of moral crusading about lifestyle choices and substance abuse while preaching the advantages of self-government. But also like before The Great Depression we’ve been unable to see the hypocrisy that those opposing stances represent. And just like before The Great Depression, we have failed to recognize the ramifications of that hypocrisy.

Americans love to boast about the great ’moral’ heritage on which The United States was founded. And yet those same morals were used to justify horrors like native extermination, human enslavement, religious persecution, and denying rights to women who were just as white and religious as the men. What is there to be so proud of? While it’s true that the beliefs held by the founders lead them to create the U. S. Constitution, which lays a fairly good foundation for a life we can be proud of, the hypocrisy demonstrated by the lives they actually lived - and how we still live today - stands as clear evidence of the flaws inherent in those beliefs.

Money is arguably the greatest invention in human history. It was this invention, more than anything else, that made it possible for all people to deal with one another as equals. But we seem to have never quite grasped what money actually represents. We came close many years ago, when we declared that theft was a crime of very high significance. We come close today every time we toss around phrases like ’time is money.’ But we’ve never straight-out acknowledged the fundamental connection between time and money. Money represents the part of a man’s life, time which he’ll never get back, that he has spent earning that money. Money, and the property it buys, is all he has to show for that time. This undeniable truth speaks to us quite loudly through the sense of outrage we feel when someone is told ’at least you have your life’ right after being robbed.

Americans today are so confused when it comes to the issues of morality and money that the ’truth’ of statements like ’money is the root of all evil’ are now accepted without question. So blind is the acceptance of these so-called ’truths’ that no one seems to realize just what an indictment this represents against every person who has ever worked an honest day’s labor for an honest day’s pay. They’ve even gone so far in support of this lie that they’ve even twisted the story of Robin Hood, which was actually about a man fighting to regain the riches stolen from him by the government, into one where he robbed from the rich to give to the poor. This lie has been used to justify ’robbing Peter to pay Paul’ for a very long time.

I believe that a person has an inviolate right to do anything with his money he wants. I do not believe that the U. S. Constitution grants to government the right to do anything it wants with our money. The ’progressive’ U.S. tax system requires those at the top end of the income scale to sometimes pay thousands of times more than those at the low end of the income scale. Considering how we treat the wealthy as if they couldn’t possibly have earned their wealth, should we really be surprised when the wealthy take a ’by any means necessary’ approach to protecting what is theirs? Why are we so shocked that the principles separating freedom fighters from pirates have been so badly corrupted?

After the media and the people have spent so much effort denigrating the legal and political professions, why should anyone be surprised that these professions now tend to attract the kind of people who can be tempted into corruption? After spending so much time and money criminalizing the activities of millions of Americans, why are we now surprised to discover that our society is filled with outlaws? And after making it the sworn duty of our police to arrest people who have harmed no one other than themselves, why are we now so shocked when the resulting conflict of interest leads to dereliction of duty and corruption?

This society uses the cover of morality to justify denying the rights of anyone unlucky enough to fit within a group that can conveniently be used as cannon fodder in the war to avoid the awful truth it seeks to hide. To feed the needs of this beast we pretend is not there, we’ve been willing to deny the freedom and seize the wealth of anyone that can be painted with the brush of unpopularity. While we claim to have grown past the petty discriminations of the past, our society has seen far too many seek the comforts of other shores and our prisons are filled with far too many convicted of crimes that had no victims.

We even use the cover of morality to intrude into areas that should clearly be off limits. Areas where people should feel safe to sleep with whom they want and to resolve their relationship issues in private, away from unwanted intrusions by the media and the government. In fact, we were so busy meddling in Bill Clinton’s sex life in the late 90’s that we completely missed the rising threat from people who are even more extreme when it comes to using ’morality’ to justify their actions. And despite the obvious lesson to the contrary, we have chosen to be even more like our enemies than we were before.

Rather than recognizing that more freedom and not less is required to deal with our problems, we still resort to name calling and finger pointing to make sure that no one dares to speak out against the system as it stands today. All while still pretending to be the world’s greatest advocates of freedom. I have to wonder if I’m truly the only one who wishes that Bill Clinton had answered the attacks against him with, "Yeah, I had me some fun with that woman. Now, Lord help me, I’ve got to answer to Hillary. So I will thank you to keep your damn noses out of our private lives, you ambulance chasing dogs!" While this may not have altered the terrorist’s plans, it would have gone a long way towards drawing ’a line in the sand’ for freedom.

We spend so much energy advocating the ’free market’ and yet we consistently fail to recognize the free market at work. We think of the free market as a place that involves only the exchange of money and property, when it’s actually a market driven by the free exchange of ideas. We have allowed our confused understanding of morality and wealth to turn us into a people who are unable to recognize either. With everyone so focused on how the system is failing to meet their needs, no one seems to realise that our economic troubles could’ve been avoided if we hadn’t been so immoral and greedy in the first place.

I have spent my entire life living on the ’middle earth’ between ’a lawful existence’ and the freedom to live as I choose. Many others have lived in that reality as well. I have also spent my entire life struggling to stay sane while drowning in a virtual sea of mysticism and superstition. Again, I know that I have not struggled alone. But even as a disillusioned teenager, I was smart enough to see that we were headed for both economic disaster and religion-inspired warfare. How could any sane person expect a different result, considering how we can’t seem to resist betting our future on the belief that we are better than the choices we actually make?

The lesson that we should learn from all of this is that, regardless of how we ’feel’ about it, the marketplace of life is very real and has rules that absolutely must be obeyed. What we are now experiencing is a real ’market correction.’ And as everyone rushes to jump on the bail-out bandwagon, I’m reminded of The Cars when they asked, "Who’s going to drive you home... tonight?" I hope that, as the government stamps out more money to throw at the problem, we remember that all that paper must derive it’s actual value from the lives of the people who carry it, and from the lives of our descendents who will still be paying for it.

I believe that we have, in fact, come a long way towards the ideals that this country was founded on. People are now relatively free to live and work in ways and arenas that would never have been tolerated in the times before The Great Depression. I doubt that anyone during those times would have predicted that we would one day have a President of The United States of African-American descent. But a man is either free or he is not, and ’relative freedom’ is a price that a country claiming to be ’the leader of the free world’ cannot afford to pay.

I want ice water.

Love, Loss, Anger, and Faith

2009-02-16T16:30:00.006-05:00

Now that My Terrible Ordeal is over, I can get on with trying to salvage the rest of my life. In addition to all of this writing, being sober and temporarily without the distractions of telephone, cable TV and Internet has allowed me to take a more clear headed look at my life up to now. These circumstances have also allowed me, with some difficulty, to resume my love of reading and listening to music. This is difficult because those things are clear evidence of the state of my psyche at the time I chose them. Regular readers of this blog will be familiar with some of my history and of my tendency for idealistic thinking. Well all those books, records, and memories are painful reminders of the choices that tendency has led me to make. Choices like who and what I loved, what I did and did not give up to pursue those loves, and what I did in response to their loss.

I must say that my definition of what ’love’ is has evolved to be quite different from what other people say it is. I now believe that a person can truly love only the people and the things that represent that person’s ideals brought to life. Unfortunately, my definition was nowhere near complete enough to be a proper guide for some very critical choices I made in that area. So although my current beliefs did exist in infant form, they were of little help in preventing me from becoming locked into what later became very painful relationships with women and things. Of the two women important enough to write about, the first was my early childhood sweetheart and the other is the mother of my five children. The things are too numerous to mention other than to say that they were the typical kind that we waste so much time, energy, and money pursuing.

While I have little ambition for things these days, the women have been nowhere near as easy to dismiss. Regardless of how I feel about love and philosophy now, the feelings I have for these two women are still so strong that I literally get a psychic shock whenever either of them cross my mind. I try very hard to tell myself that my feelings aren’t rational because I shouldn’t feel this strongly for anyone not ’qualified’ for my love, but I might as well be spitting into a fan for all the good that does me. And there’s simply no possibility that I can prevent the thoughts altogether, especially when it comes to the mother of my children. So I guess that the only thing left to do is to face those memories and feelings head-on like all the head-shrinkers advise.

Before I can begin to describe either of those relationships, I must delve a little into the circumstances - and my thoughts about them - that surrounded them. I was born into a time of great turmoil and anticipation. If you know anything about the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s, you’ll understand why this was so. And I’m not sure whether it was arrogance or naivete on my part, but somehow I came to believe that I had a special talent for judging right from wrong and for finding the good in anyone. My faith in my abilities gave me the confidence to take on many challenges that I might not otherwise have taken on.

But the belief that I was somehow ’special’ also left me feeling that I had a bit of an unfair advantage over other people. This feeling was reinforced by their apparent lack of faith in their own abilities and by the ’protected’ state I lived in due to having such a dangerous father. In turn, this led me to never want to appear ’superior’ to anyone and to never tell anyone of my fear for them should they be seen by my father as a threat. So I adopted the persona of a non-confrontational person who gave everyone the benefit of doubt, while I secretly strived to keep my true perceptions to myself.

But also behind the mask I wore raged the heart of a romantic idealist who believed himself capable of perceiving both the true pains of the world and the answers needed to alleviate that pain. Thus began the log lasting conflict between the person I let people see and the desire to be recognized as the ’answer’ I wanted to be. I became a person who denied the possibility of finding a ’perfect’ mate for himself while always campaigning to bring everyone to a state of ’perfection.’ As anyone in my family will eagerly tell you, that was not the way to begin a long and healthy life. But that’s how I ended up choosing women for mates not because of who they were but rather who I thought they could be. That’s not to say, despite the opinions of others, that just anyone would do.

My first ’love’ was a little girl that lived next door to me at the time of my earliest memories, when I still thought of myself as Bobby Hart. From then until I was ten years old, we spent practically all of our time together. She seemed so perfect to me. In fact, her family seemed more like my true family than the one I was born to. They even looked like me, which was kind of unusual in those days. My attachment to her was so strong that it inspired the first obsession I had with a song - The Monkees' I'm A Believer. But when I was ten we began to drift apart. I think this was mainly because she was a grade higher than I was in school, and had developed a circle of friends who couldn’t understand why she would spend so much time with a ’lesser’ being.

She had also developed an interest in other boys. The only fight I was ever in that I actually started, was with one of my perceived rivals. As I remember it, the fight pretty much ended in a draw. But I remember quite clearly how embarrassed I was at my behavior and the struggle I had to regain her respect. To me, those results felt like a terrible loss. I kept on trying to keep that relationship alive however, right up to my twelfth birthday when my mom shipped me off to live with my sister in L.A. I’ve seen her only twice since then.

The first time was after I was discharged from the Air Force over eight years later, during a drug-induced search for lost love after my wife revealed that she was pregnant by another man and had refused to resume our broken marriage. She was still just as beautiful as I remembered her, and still cared enough to welcome my visit in spite of the circumstances. But the fairy tale reunion came crashing down when should told me that she was in love with the guy I had started the fight with. The last time was during a road trip for my job. That’s when I found out that she had married that same guy and had a couple of pretty little girls by him. Since he really was a decent guy, and I was back with my wife at the time anyway, I did the best I could to hide my pain. Whether she bought my act or not is anyone’s guess.

I met my now ex-wife right after I moved to Ohio from L.A. in 1970, when I was fourteen and just getting used to being teased about that damned Janis Joplin song. She didn’t look like me the way my first ’love’ did, but I found her athletic grace and stature to be irresistible. Her family lived across the street in the housing project my sister lived in, and when I finally got up the nerve to talk to her, I found that she was a very bright fifteen year old who was very active in track and girl’s basketball. I myself have never been much into sports, but I had a pretty good hook shot and was fast enough to outrun her. And amazingly enough, she was a year ahead of me in school and was born in February - just like the first girl I fell in love with.

Over time I also discovered that, until I actually introduced myself, everyone she knew had wondered why ’a White kid like me’ was such a frequent visitor at my sister’s house. And even after I thought I had made it clear that my interest was in her, she and her sister still tried to fix me up with the White girl down the street. From the perspective of a horny teen-aged boy, it seemed to take forever to convince her that I was worth spending time with. Looking back on it now however, I have to wonder just how convinced she really was. You see, except for my intense attraction to her, we had almost nothing in common. All of our interests in music, in books, and in how we spent our time apart were completely different.

Although she was obviously just as bright as I was, the things she chose to focus her intelligence on made no sense to me whatsoever. I’m sure that she too wondered at the oddity of our relationship, because she introduced me one day to a potential suitor who just had to see it for himself. That really hurt. But I was relieved nonetheless when she chose me over him. And even after I joined the Air Force just to be financially ready to do so, I was still amazed when she agreed to marry me just three years after we met. If you consider the fact that we had to fake a pregnancy in front of a judge because I was only seventeen at the time, you can perhaps empathize a little with how I felt.

Have you ever heard the song I Hope You Dance by Leann Womack? It’s probably a fair bet that my ex-wife hasn’t, but if she had it could have given her some insights into the way I feel about my life today. You see when I was very young, I was so naive and uninhibited that I actually loved to dance all by myself in the bootleg joints frequented by my mother. As long as people kept giving me dimes to put in the jukebox, I danced like I was alone and happy on the moon. Unfortunately for our marriage, I had become increasingly extremely shy and introverted by the time we met. I had also discovered what actually motivated all those gyrations at the parties and nightclubs she wanted us to go to. So when I needed to the most, I just couldn’t bring myself to dance with her in public.

When you add to that the fact that my mental state also denied me the ambition needed to properly provide for our family, the fact that she remained married to me for almost thirty-three years is kind of hard to believe. And through all of those years, through all the highs of our reunions after the lows of our separations, through the successful births of our children and the frequent miscarriages, through all the stupid things I did that should have driven her away, she stuck with me. And the intensity of my feelings for her never diminished one little bit. Even after my spirit-liberating discovery of Ayn Rand’s Objectivism, during the months of separation surrounding my military discharge, I was still unable to give her the life I wanted for us after we got back together - although for an entirely different reason at that point.

And for that same reason, the conflict between the person I showed to the world and the person I actually was became so great that it led to a psychotic breakdown. But she still kept me in her life, even through hospitalizations for mental health, drug abuse, and pancreatitis. However, I knew it was finally over when I awoke from a medically-induced coma, after an almost fatal resurgence of the pancreatitis, to see that she had brought her new man with her to visit me. Ironically, it was the guy she was with when I got out of the Air Force. You know, the guy she chose to be with instead of resuming our marriage. The one who actually fathered my first child - the son who still considers me to be his dad even though he knows otherwise.

But maybe the true irony lies in the fact that, in spite of all the drama, I still miss my ex-wife with an intensity I couldn’t begin to explain. Just hearing her voice on the phone can bring on one of those crying jags I struggle so hard to avoid. If there were no more evidence than that of just how badly twisted my mind has become, I think that should still be quite enough. But her new man is actually a very nice guy despite the animosity between him and our son. She certainly seems to be living a far more comfortable life than the one she had with me. And I truly don’t want to cause them any pain. So I try my best not to let my feelings show. But I’ve always been a very poor liar and I have my doubts about how successful my efforts have been.

Now that I’m nearing end of this article, an amazing thought has occurred to me. While watching the Presidential inauguration earlier, I was once again impressed by the imposing stature of Michelle Obama. If I had to guess, I would lean towards her being the physically stronger of the two. And that’s when it hit me. Do you recall my earlier statement that I believe you can truly love only that which represents your ideals brought to life? Well I realize now that the irresistible attraction I have always felt for my ex-wife derives it’s power from the strength that I first saw in her from across the street when we were kids. And it has been reinforced time and again by the courage and confidence she has demonstrated throughout the years.

Despite all my rationalizations to the contrary, telling myself that it didn’t make sense for me to love her because she didn’t look the way I wanted my woman to look and didn’t have the same goals that I did, I realize now that I did indeed love her. Not because she fit some magazine definition of beauty. Not because we wanted to do the same things and pursue the same goals. Not even because she truly was the best sexual partner I’ve ever had and of all the wonderful children that having sex with her produced. I loved her because she completed me by possessing the courage, confidence, and strength that I have always lacked and was willing to put up with me anyway. I’ve heard it said that, "There’s no fool like an old fool," While I don’t know if such an imbalanced love can ever actually work, knowing the true nature of my love for her might have helped.

To be clear, I have had other, shorter term, relationships with girls and women, all with equally disastrous results. I have not had even a one night stand since the end of my marriage in 2002. That is, other than those of the infrequent and always disappointing pay-to-play variety. The loneliness has gotten to be almost more than I can bear. But I’m so full of unresolved anger at myself and my circumstances that I simply haven’t had the confidence or the courage needed to approach a prospective mate while dragging such a mountain of pain and confusion behind me. Considering my history, I fear that starting a new relationship before dumping some of this baggage will only lead to more disaster.

My regular readers know how I like to include lyrics from my favorite songs in these articles. And when it comes to the subject of love, I’ve certainly had a wide array to choose from. I’ve looked into the soulful sounds of The Temptations, The Spinners, Smokey Robinson, Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight, Sly and the Family Stone, Lionel Richie, Hall and Oates, Grand Funk Railroad, Larry Graham, and Whitney Houston. I’ve surfed the melodic waves of The Beatles, The Carpenters, Elton John, Billy Joel, The Doobie Brothers, The Eagles, Led Zeppelin, Emerson, Lake and Palmer, Yes, U2, Heart, and REO Speedwagon. I’ve even churned through the dark and angry waters of The Police, John Waite, Def Leppard, The Who, The Eurhythmics and Pink Floyd.

Pink Floyd’s The Final Cut is an excellent reflection of my love life:

"Through the fish-eye lens of tear stained eyes
I can barely discern the shape of this moment in time.
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I’m spiraling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.

If you negotiate the minefields in the drive
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes.
And if you make it past the shotgun in the hall.
Dial the combination. Open the priest hole.
And if I’m in I’ll tell you what’s behind the wall.

There’s a kid who had a big hallucination
Of making live to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you’re sleeping with your new found faith?
Could anybody love him? Or is it just a crazy dream?

And if I show you my dark side, will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you, show my weak side,
What would you do?
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away and leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance as you whisper down the phone?
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?

Thought I ought to bare my naked feelings.
Thought I ought to tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands, prepared to make it but
Just then the phone rang.
I never had the nerve to make the final cut."

The only significant difference between that story and my actual life is, ironically, the fact that the ringing I heard before attempting suicide was the call of crack cocaine.

Considering the state of my recent ’love’ life, maybe I’d be better off these days looking to groups like The Tube’s when they sang:

"You can step outside your little world.
You can talk to a pretty girl.
She’s everything you dream about...
But don’t fall in love!"

But for the future I’m still hoping for, perhaps the best advice came from the group Toto when they sang:

"Hold the line. Love isn’t always on time."

I have no idea if writing about these things will truly have the exorcising effect I hope for, but I do know that having copies of them outside of my head seems to somehow diminish the power of the ones still inside my head. I’m holding on very tightly to the hope that it’ll all work out in the end. I guess that would be the ’faith’ part of this whole thing. And in the real world, that may just be the best that I can hope for.

I want ice water.

My Terrible Ordeal

2009-02-16T16:25:00.001-05:00

In another of those weird synergisms where I manage to find profound connections between the seemingly trivial and the great complexities of my life, I have found tonight’s episode of NCIS to be analogous to my most recent trial by fire.

The show starts with the team investigating an obviously open and shut case of cheating sailor murdered by spurned lover, when out of nowhere a woman wearing a Muslim head covering and shouting in Arabic grabs the murder weapon and uses it to stab the medical examiner, Ducky, through the hand. It turns out, as the story unfolds, that the woman was trying to revenge the death of her brother, some thirty years earlier in Afghanistan, at the hands of none other than Ducky himself. Before they can catch up to her, she presents war crime charges against him at her embassy. And to the teams amazement, Ducky not only admits his guilt but turns himself in the Afghans.

Needless to say, the team was shocked and convinced it was all some terrible mistake that they must resolve to save their friend. Unfortunately Ducky refused to provide any information that will help them to help him. Eventually, through the use of all that techno-investigative-spy stuff I love so much, they discovered that the guy Ducky killed was being tortured repeatedly for military information at the hands of an agent of the so-called good guys. As a young doctor, Ducky had had to repair the damage done to the man over and over again, and decided at last to save him from more suffering in the only way he could - by giving him an overdose of painkillers.

But in Ducky’s mind he had committed murder, and he still felt so badly about it that he continued to refuse all his friend’s efforts to save him. As a last resort, they tracked down the guy who had done the actual torturing and brought them together as two war criminals locked in the same room. You know, the one with the two-way mirror. That was when the torturer finally admitted that Ducky had been the actual target of his efforts, because his compassion was preventing the prisoners from experiencing the level of fear required to get useful information out of them. It had been Ducky he was trying to break, and he succeeded! Of course, the charges were dropped against Ducky because the woman who stabbed him was on the other side of the mirror the whole time.

My sad tale starts at the beginning of November, when instead of my disability check, I got a letter stating that I had been cut off because of a felony warrant that had been issued for my arrest. Furthermore, it stated that I now owed the government for the five months I had received benefits while the warrant was in effect. Needless to say, I was a little disturbed by this. This trouble originated with something that happened at my old apartment almost a full year ago, the consequences of which I tried to ignore for nine months and have struggled to resolve for the past two.

Although I wasn’t surprised that the problem finally came home to roost, I was absolutely shocked at the charges filed against me and at what my avoiding them had cost me. You see, giving in to my addictions to drugs and my lust for companionship, I allowed some ’friends’ to come over to ’party’ a while with me. Eventually, the ’partying’ eventually got to be more than I wanted to deal with. In the end the police were called in - by someone other than me - to resolve the resulting chaos. And because I wasn’t expecting a visit from the police, I tried to hide the remaining evidence of what we had been doing to avoid having the problems escalate. Somehow that turned into me being left holding the bag. It was, after all, my apartment

Well I was so pissed off at my so-called friends, and so frustrated that I was the only one with any consequences to face, that I decided to dodge the issue by getting the hell out of Dodge. This, I thought, got me far away from both the consequences and the activities that led to them. I also thought that at worst I would have to deal with some minor offense at some later date. How wrong I was. It turns out that possession of the substance I had been trying to hide was a felony offense. And even though the citations issued at the time made no mention of my possession of it, I could nonetheless be charged for it at a later date if the authorities chose to do so. They chose to do so.

I of course, having left no way for anyone to reach me, was completely unaware of any of this. Until the beginning of November, that is. Well amazingly enough, I received little more than a slap on the wrist as punishment for my crimes in the end - from the courts that is. I still lost two months of disability benefits, which left me begging for help from my middle son to cover expenses. That leaves me owing him, Social Security, the fine and court costs, and whatever it’s going to cost to get my driver’s licence reinstated. But the greatest punishment by far, and the reason why this story parallels the NCIS episode so well, came from the deranged thoughts bouncing around in my head.

Regular readers of this blog will be familiar with my obsessive attempts to pre-plan every interaction I expect to have with other people. Well, being the mentally ill person that I am, I have spent the last two months working and re-working to build up the scenario I expected to play out at the end of this mess. I imagined myself in an epic courtroom battle to snatch back my freedom from the jaws of a justice system too blinded by outrage at my crimes to care about the circumstances in which they occurred. I expected to have to argue in my defense with verbal eloquence I had never before been able to achieve.

Well earlier today, like in some twisted flashback to Alice’s Restaurant, it turned out that neither the prosecutor or the judge believed my crimes where significant enough to warrant the persecution I anticipated, and I was too tongue-tied to have been of much help in my defense anyway. So, as usual, reality spoiled my nightmare once again.

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, I can’t resist wondering about how different the outcome might have been if I didn’t look so White or if the judge had been more like Judge Judy or Judge Joe Brown. What can I say? I’m a pessimist.

And as always,

I want ice water.

It's Nature's Way Of Telling You Something's Wrong

2009-02-16T15:39:00.003-05:00

There was a time when the phrase "Man’s Inhumanity To Man" evoked only sadness and anger in my thoughts, but these days I’ve felt a certain sense of irony added to the mix. After all, why should Man be exempt from all the damage he does to the Earth and it’s other inhabitants?

I also found comfort, when I was a child in fear of all those lions and tigers and bears out there, in the knowledge that Man is the most dangerous creature that the Earth has ever known. Ironically, Man’s danger derives not just from his intelligence, but also from his willingness to cast it aside and behave in a terrifyingly irrational manner. Dangerous indeed.

But the laws of God or Science (your choice) use volcanism and weather to maintain the Earth’s energy balance. They also use famine and disease to maintain the Earth’s wildlife population balance. And despite our apparent belief that mankind is above the law, those same forces provide the means to keep us in check as well.

It’s called War. It’s so eloquent and simple that it’s almost perfect, but what else would you expect from ’divine’ intervention? It’s like some great cosmic equation that I choose to call The War Ratio:
War Equals Stupidity Divided By Intelligence.
So long as intelligence outweighs stupidity, The War Ratio predicts a low likelihood of violent conflict. When the ratio achieves unity, war becomes all but certain. As the imbalance increases, so does the scale of warfare. Ultimately, when The War Ratio reaches critical mass, we blast ourselves into another Stone Age. Voila! Balance restored.

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that you aren’t stupid and that you don’t behave in a stupid manner. Well, I try very hard myself, but we are unfortunately part of a shrinking minority. And as the above equation proves, it all comes down to numbers. The fact that I write this blog and that you’re reading it demonstrates that we are at least trying to find and express some sort of rational view of things.

But in my admittedly small circle of family, friends, and acquaintances, there is almost no one who spends much time thinking about the sort of issues I write about. And while I hope that your circle stacks up a little better than mine, I’d be willing to bet that it doesn’t by much. Statistics and the daily news back me up.

1. We ignore the trouble on the horizon by giving precedence to the needs of the moment.

2. Instead of seeking education that will lead to actual solutions, we either fill our children’s heads with mystical beliefs or encourage them to choose careers based solely on potential income.

3. As a result, the world’s economy is in it’s worst shape since The Great Depression.

4. The other world powers are turning from looking to us for leadership to looking at us as the source of the problem. Rather than entering into rational discussions about where we have gone wrong and how to make corrections for actual improvement, we fall back to historic stances of blame and finger pointing.

5. The economic downturn is causing public uproar in countries like China, to whom we are greatly in debt, which will likely lead to a militaristic response in search of justification by means of a scapegoat.

As far as taking action to change the balance, all I can do is write and hope that my writing inspires others to use their talents to further the cause. I have to admit that, while I certainly have plenty to say, I can’t help feeling that it’s a lost cause sometimes. But when I start to think that way, I remember that judging this as a lost cause means passing that same judgment on mankind. I’m simply not ready to do that.

Now don’t get me wrong, I strongly believe in taking a ’live and let die’ attitude towards the stupid actions of other people. But since I have neither the desire nor the means to live on this planet alone, I absolutely need a civilization where the smart outnumber the stupid. Isn’t that what ’civilization’ is? Numbers don’t lie.

Finally, having borrowed the title of this article from a song. I think that it’s only apropos that I close with the lyrics from another. The song is entitled Two Suns In The Sunset, by Pink Floyd:

"In my rear view mirror the sun is going down,
Sinking behind bridges in the road.
I think of all the good things that we have left undone.
And I suffer premonitions. Confirm suspicions.
Of the holocaust to come.

The rusty wire, that holds the cork, that keeps the anger in
Gives way, and suddenly, it’s day again.
The sun is in the east even though the day is done
Two suns in the sunset.
Could be the human race is run.

Like the moment when the brakes lock,
And you slide towards the big truck.
You stretch the frozen moments with your fear.
And you’ll never hear their voices,
And you’ll never see their faces,
You’ll have no recourse to the law anymore.

As the windshield melts and my tears evaporate,
Leaving only charcoal to defend.
Finally I understand the feelings of the few.
Ashes and diamonds, foe and friend,
We were all equal in the end."

I want ice water.

Me No Know KeyMoSobbi - Part 1

2009-02-16T12:15:00.003-05:00

I hope you get my attempt at humor in the title of this post. It refers, in my version of phonetic spelling, to Tonto's frequent answer to The Lone Ranger's questions. And as the title suggests, this post will consist of a random collection of questions. They range from pure silliness to more serious issues of philosophy and science. Some I've thought about for years, some are more recent, and I won't be surprised if I think of new ones as I write. The creative process is like that. It's also possible that I'll answer my own question while trying to verbalize it. The creative process is like that too. I really hope that it happens. If it does, I'll write about my answer as well.

So please grant me a resounding "No, my slow friend. There are no stupid questions!" And as The Joker said: "Here... we... go!"

1. This one has bothered me for years. Astronomers say that the universe is approximately 14.5 billion years old. They also say that it began in The Big Bang and has been expanding ever since. In addition, they say that since light takes time to travel over a distance, we see distant stars as they were when the light we see left them. So light that left a star a thousand years ago will show us the state of that star as it was a thousand years ago. Okay, I can except that. But these same folks are now claiming that their cutting-edge telescopes now allow them to see the very edge of the universe - nearly 14 billion light-years away. They say this distance also allows them to see back in time to right after The Big Bang. They even claim to have pictures of what they call 'infant galaxies' to prove it. This brings several questions to mind:

a. Call me stupid but, if the universe was so much smaller that far back in time, wouldn't objects whose light left them at that time appear to be much, much, MUCH closer to us?

b. Could an 'evolving' physics have allowed objects to travel so much faster back then than they can now?

c. Could the speed of light itself have 'evolved' over time?

d. What does the universe look like from the edge?

e. What would you see looking out from the edge?

2. According to the religious, Man is nothing but 'dust in the wind.' If that's so, then how did we manage to create so many Gods?

3. According to the religious, Man's creations are nothing but 'dust in the wind.' If that's so, then what does that say about all those Gods we've created?

4. According to the religious, Man is God's favorite creation. If you were one of the countless possible creatures in the universe, wouldn't that just piss you off? Maybe that's why some people fear alien invaders.

5. Science has shown that we aren't, in fact, at the center of the universe. We actually inhabit an inconspicuous little planet, circling a back water system, in a run of the mill galaxy, amongst billions of other galaxies. Doesn't our true greatness lie in our ability to recognize these facts and get on with it anyway?

6. Let's say we live in some highly advanced technological society where all our food can be 'replicated' from 'raw atoms' or some such. Does killing for food then become immoral no matter how much we like to kill or chomp?

7. Considering the messy ways in which we reproduce and eliminate bodily wastes, does this mean that God has a really twisted sense of humor?

8. Why do people insist on asking what's wrong with me when they know very well that they have neither the time nor the patience to have me list all of the things that are wrong with me?

9. With all the abuse they have to take from the 'normal' people, why would homosexuals want to be called 'gay?'

10. Why don't lesbians refer to themselves as 'gay?' Aren't they happy? Okay, I know that's two questions.

11. We've got ones, tens, hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, and trillions. What's next? At the rate we're blowing through money, I think we'd better find out soon. And to think that people made fun of Carl Sagan!

12. If time is money, then what is money - from a philosophical perspective? Perhaps it represents the part of my life, time which I'll never get back, that has been spent earning my money. Could it be that money, and the property it buys, actually equates to life? Okay, I know that was two questions, but you won't catch me telling someone who's been robbed of his property that 'at least you have your life.' Especially not if that person is too old to re-earn all that he's lost!

13. If no 'place' existed before The Big Bang, then 'where' was God standing when he caused it?

14. If heaven is such a great place, then why aren't even the most religious people in a hurry to get there? Is that doubt I smell? Alright already with the bitching about multiple questions.

15. If heaven is the opposite of hell, then do the people there have to wear long johns under all those robes?

16. Did all of the people who figured out how to drive in winter last year move away, to be replaced by a new crop from the Caribbean?

17. Were the people who named the city of Islamabad trying to tell us something?

18. Aren't terms like 'military intelligence' and 'religious freedom' kind of oxymoronic?

19. If Man is such a terrible sinner, so riddled with faults that he should strive to correct, then why would the desire for perfection be considered one of his greatest sins?

20. The host of PBS's Wild Chronicles said that I have a greater chance of being struck by lightning than being bitten by a shark. I wonder if he meant me as a member of the total population, me as a member of the smaller population that occasionally spends time in the ocean, or me as a member of the smaller still population that happens to be in the ocean at a given moment?

Okay, that's it. I'm tired and my brain hurts. I'll post more questions later. After all, "I gotta million of 'em!"

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Drugs

2009-02-15T16:49:00.001-05:00

All the news coverage of the various congressional hearings going on have reminded me of a funny scenario I once envisioned. The thought came about after a conversation I had with a couple of the local dope boys. I had overheard them complaining about being harassed by Five-O and I just couldn't resist pointing out how I thought that Five-O was what kept them in business. As you might expect, they were anxious for me to explain.

I was referring, of course, to the criminal justice system and it's anti-drug laws. I told them that, if it weren't for the fact that what they worked so hard to sell was illegal, people much better equipped to do the job would step in and put them out of business. I asked them if they honestly thought that they would be able to compete with the research, marketing and distribution capabilities of companies like Merck, Pfizer, Walgreen's and CVS. And, as you might again expect, I was told that I was crazy because The Man will never legalize drugs.

They're probably right, but that's where the funny scenario comes in. What would happen if drugs WERE legalized? I can still see it so clearly in my mind. The congressional elite arrayed in all their pompous grandeur to hear the pleas of those representing the now defunct illegal drug industry. The lead character on that side would have to be the angry, die-hard, anti-drug senator who arranged for these hearings in the desperate hope of restoring order to the land, along with the highly photogenic, caught-in-the-stall-naked, look on his face when he spies those about to testify filing in during his well-flowered opening speech. Whew!

And what a group of unlucky losers those giving testimony would be. Ranging all the way from the lowly dope boys up to the filthy-rich cartel magnates, all decked-out in their Hollywood cliche garb and bling-bling. Of course, the cartel magnates would have come in their Lear Jets and Hummers, the regional distributors in their Navigators and Escalades, leaving the dope boys to use mass transit because they were unwilling to sell their bling to pay for anything better.

The dope boys would, of course, complain about how they're losing out on all the free sex by now having to pay the crack, heroin and meth whores in real money that they don't have the skills to earn. They would complain about financial distress due to their not having the drugs to trade for all the (mostly stolen) video games, cell phones, television sets, and stereo equipment. They would even have with them representative re-sellers of the fore-mentioned ill-gotten goods to complain about their now shrunken markets.

They'd bemoan the loss of their industry standard rings, chains, teeth, clothing, and automobiles. And they wouldn't forget to mention how much they miss the free housing they got from those stupid enough to think that a few hits now and again made their presence worthwhile. "Foul!" they'd cry, for the loss of all the things they'd become accustomed to as 'fair market retailers' in the illegal drug economy.

Those higher on this now extinct food chain would, not surprisingly, have arguments more in line with their former lofty positions. Through their high-powered and highly paid mouth-pieces, they would point to possible anti-trust issues related to the 'denial' of their 'rightfully earned' share in the new legalized drug industry.

In spite of the fact that they're now free from prosecution for their past activities and could keep their ill-gotten wealth, they would argue that because of their huge 'investment' in developing the 'market' for drugs in the first place, as well as in 'procuring' the raw materials to meet that 'need,' it would be down right unfair to bar them from participating in the newly expanded legitimate market and for their production facilities around the world to be returned for legitimate use by the impoverished peoples from whom they were originally stolen.

I hope you think that's as insanely funny as I do. I would dearly love to see someone with the proper cojones for the job, like Dave Chappelle or Carlos Mencia, set such a scenario before the cameras. The question is though, is drug legalization really such an insane idea? The fact is that throughout history humans have used mood altering substances to achieve the illusion of relief from the burdens of life. It's also a fact that, despite the $10,000,000 per day cost (ABC 20/20) of the so-called 'war on drugs,' we now have an arguably worse 'drug abuse' situation than ever before.

The inescapable reality is that until we evolve to a mentality better able to deal with the hardships of life, people will continue seek relief where they can get it. I expect that, as past history shows, this will be especially true now that our prospects for 'the good life' have taken a serious nose dive. And I defy anyone to point out the 'enlightened' and 'evolved' aspects of the tactics used under our government's current approach to the problem.

Now I must make it perfectly clear that, in spite of living in a society where we're constantly bombarded with ads showing drugs as the cure for almost anything, and at the same time news that we can't trust the so-called experts, I Do Not Personally Advocate The Use Of Drugs To Fix Anything.

While I continue to take my psychiatric medications in an effort to limit those embarrassing crying jags and my somewhat morbid fascination with suicide, I can't honestly say that they work any better than anything that I haven't tried. They certainly don't fill my need for stimulation and, quite frankly, even the prodigious amounts of coffee I drink fall short of that. As far as the illegal drugs I have used, my life and current situation are perhaps the most clear testimony to the futility of going down that road.

But drug abuse is not the real problem and everyone knows it. If seeking chemical solace is really so terrible, then why don't we ban it in every form? The real problem is our need for such solace. And fear of punishment, no matter how terrible, will never exorcise a demon like that. And just as I wouldn't choose some unregulated quack to deal with my depression, diabetes and arthritis, those who simply need to feel good for a little while shouldn't be forced to scurry around in the darkest of places to deal with some street hustler. Not when his local Walgreen's could be fully stocked with well tested and well regulated pharmaceuticals designed just for that purpose.

It's time to get real people. Just as any good minister will tell you that it's the sinners who must be welcomed into the church, I say that a civilization that won't embrace it's troubled and broken citizens is not 'civilized' at all. And just as in the natural world the most weird and dangerous things grow where they're isolated, we have allowed a sub-culture every bit as alien and monstrous to fester and grow right over the shoulders we find so easy to turn away. Perhaps it's 'love' and not 'war' that's the answer after all.

Lastly I must make it clear that, although I do still suffer the occasional lapse, I Never post anything to this blog that I wrote while 'under the influence.' I hope my detractors will not be too terribly disappointed to hear that. You see, this blog is a kind of therapy for me. My hope is that by striving for clarity of expression I will improve my clarity of thought. And it is working better than I would have ever believed possible. So not only would posting something that I wrote while I was high be counter-productive, it would feel almost sacrilegious.

I want ice water.

And What About Peter

2009-02-15T10:17:00.001-05:00

This article is inspired by Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged and my belief that there's a certain poetic justice to our current state of affairs. It's my first attempt at poetry. Please be kind.

And What About Peter

In a world where it's commonplace to rob Peter to pay Paul.
Does anybody ever wonder what Peter thinks of it all?

Does he accept that it's okay to bear the burden of our need?
Or would he rather we not be the reason why he bleeds?

Do you ever think of what it'd be like for you to stand in his place?
To toil and slave for others with no hope for saving grace?

Do you wonder how it feels to be the sacrificial lamb?
Or do you just take all you can get and never give a damn?

And what about Peter's needs? Aren't they as important as mine?
Why should he be willing to share with those who beg and whine?

Do you think that he should take pride in all that he has earned?
Or should he hide what he's achieved to avoid getting burned?

What will we do when comes the day when he has had enough?
When he decides at long last to heave a mighty shrug?

When he decides to rise above that lonely place of shame?
Where we have left him all alone to carry all the blame?

What will become of us at last once he has turned his back?
And we are left without support to carry our own slack?

Well maybe then we'll finally see the true evil of it all,
And turn away from this game we play of robbing Peter to pay Paul!

I want ice water.

Hope and Conflict

2009-02-15T09:56:00.003-05:00

In the novel Blazing Saddles, the ultra-sexed German blonde exclaimed in the dark, "It's true! It's true!" To which her equally dark bedmate replied, "I hate to disillusion you, but that's my elbow you're sucking on." So much for high hopes. In Ayn Rand's novel The Fountainhead, a somewhat less likeable character stated that, "Under the skin all men are the same, and I'm prepared to skin every one of them to prove the point!" So much for the loving acceptance of individual distinctions. At a time when our dreams of love and prosperity are rapidly degenerating into nightmares of ruin and blame, I think that a serious, yet good-natured, look into the underlying issues is long overdue.

Our dreams and aspirations derive from the need for comfort, safety and happiness. The fulfillment of these needs require that we have faith in our ability to overcome the obstacles that stand in our way and the conviction that we deserve the things we want. Conflict and despair are the inevitable results of any failure to grasp these most fundamental facts of reality. So even a spacehead such as myself can see that this investigation must take a look at our failures in this area. And since these failures constitute the feathers stuffed into the uncomfortable beds we're now forced to lie upon, it makes sense to do as that wise old rooster, Foghorn Leghorn, does with his feathers. He puts numbers on 'em!

Occasional errors in judgement are to be expected, but:

We consistently confuse things wanted with things needed.
We consistently misinterpret helpful criticism as scornful rejection.
We consistently misconstrue the success of others as failures on own our part.
We consistently disavow our limitations and proclaim talents we don't possess.
We consistently demand more than we have earned.
We consistently avoid growth in favor of limiting effort.
We consistently choose blind safety over the challenge of the unknown.
We consistently deny the beautiful in favor of the pretty.
We consistently mistake lust for love.
We consistently misunderstand sacred to mean beyond question.
We consistently say 'we' when courage dictates that we say 'I.'

I could of course go on and on listing the failings of humanity, but we have churches and temples filled with people who've dedicated their lives to that endeavor. I personally think that the list I've provided is all the 'beat-down' we'll ever need, so let's move on to the more 'pleasant' search for ways to turn our failures into successes.

A careful look at the list above reveals the one thing they all have in common: The glaringly pig-headed refusal to use the awesome brains that the gods (or whatever) have granted us! Truly intelligent beings would recognize that in order to thrive they must first understand precisely what kind of life form they are, which in turn will provide a clear definition of their needs. Only on Bizarro World could 'intelligent' beings believe that they can survive without thought and actually get away with it.

Man, as a life form, is completely dependant on his ability to reason his way through the challenges of life. The quality of his reasoning determines the quality of his life. No one would expect a lion to prosper after pulling his own teeth and claws, so why are we surprised to find ourselves in trouble when we don't properly respect our ability to think? Okay, enough said on that. So what do we do to improve our reasoning skills? We create an environment that both nurtures and protects our minds.

That's why we evolved civilization in the first place, and The Great American Experiment was our attempt to finally get it right! The U.S. Constitution was explicitly written to define a government whose first and foremost responsibility is to guarantee our freedom of thought. While no power can force a person to use his mind, achieving enlightenment absolutely requires the freedom to do so. The true 'Contract With America' is the one where we agreed to stop forcing our will upon each other, and granted to government the sole right to make sure.

But our government is made up of those we elect to represent us, so it can never be any better than the choices we make. Which brings our inquiry around to us, once again. We must use our brains to find out what makes us happier and more thoughtful individuals, and to choose only those who will not stand in the way to represent us. In the end it's funny that, although I'm inclined to be a staunch individualist, I still think that it's so cool that we refer to our nation as the US of A. I truly hope that we can actualize the sentiment.

I want ice water.

More Environmental Impact

2009-02-15T09:44:00.001-05:00

This is another article that I'm beginning in mid-December and, of course, I'll probably still be tweaking it right up to the moment it's posted. Here, I want to take another 'walk down memory lane' in an effort to both exorcise some demons and gain some insight into how I came to be the person that I am.

I have been told that I was born with my umbilical cord wrapped so tightly around my neck that my head was a deep purple in color, and that I had to be suspended upside down for quite a while. While I don't know for sure, I assume other measures had to be taken as well. It have also been told that my lazy left eye was likely caused by the forceps used to assist in my delivery. I myself wonder if some of my other issues could also be linked to my distressed birth.

Issues like poor balance, severe motion sickness, and the inability to tolerate anything that would make me dizzy - such as cars, most playground equipment, carnival rides, alcohol, depressant drugs, and even marijuana. And it's certainly not for lack of trying. It's difficult to fit in when you're afraid to try the things other kids do to have fun. It's downright traumatic to try anyway and then end up puking in front of them.

But as far as the alcohol and drugs are concerned, I must consider that my problems with them could have 'other' roots. My mother was a very sweet and caring woman when she was sober, but was in fact a raging alcoholic during all of my childhood memories. While I don't know if that were the case while she was carrying me, I must consider the possibility that it may be a contributing factor. If nothing else, the constant exposure to the damage caused by alcoholism almost certainly affected my psychological makeup.

And then there was the violence. While I don't know much about my parents' background, I do know that they were both capable of extreme acts of violence. On my mother's side, I have to believe that living in poverty with four kids while being legally blind had something to do with her behavior. On my father's side, the fact that he was a pimp, a gambler, and a loan shark (amongst other things) who also happened to have severe diabetes and chronic arthritis, probably helped to fuel his anger.

From my perspective my father was a very old (fifty-seven when I was born) and very cold man who seemed to think of little other than business. That's not to say that he didn't care about me, as the only signs that he had feelings at all, other than rage, were reflected in the 'love' he exhibited towards me. In fact, It seemed as if I spent far more time with him that I did with my mother, even though I lived with her and not with him. The two were never married.

Adding fuel to the fire, and perhaps giving him a reason to keep me with him as much as he could, was the fact that my mother would use me as an excuse to extort money from him after she had blown all of hers on her boyfriend and drinking. Now to be clear, I don't recall my father ever getting violent with my mother. The violence I witnessed was between my mother and her boyfriend, as well as between them and anyone who attempted to interfere with the way the ran their lives.

But there was always the threat of violence from my father. Not only had I personally witnessed examples of it, he was renowned in the community for his willingness to hurt people when he thought the situation required it. Success in his line of 'work' demanded it I guess. I was well aware of this, and the fear of what he could do in the name of protecting his son affected me more and more as I went through those early years. Imagine being afraid of reporting those who abuse you for fear that you might get them killed. This, I believe, is the root from which my sense of living in a global madhouse has grown.

The weird thing is that except for one very surprising (and somewhat deserved) slap to the face from my father, I don't recall any of their violence ever being directed at me personally. I canrecall even a single spanking. Of course I don't recall many hugs and kisses either. But I had three siblings and various nieces and nephews who didn't have it nearly as as I did. I was the baby of my mother's bunch, and both my much older sisters left to escape the craziness so early that I barely remember them living with us at all. That left me, my brother and my oldest sister's daughter and son.

Since he was only five years my senior, my brother couldn't escape like my sisters did, but he managed to limit the abuse he took by gradually moving into the more 'pleasant' environs of the thug life. While I can't blame him for finding any way out that he could, the sad and violent end that he eventually came to seems almost pre-destined. My niece and nephew were then the ones left to helplessly endure the thrashings while I watched in that deer-in-the-headlights kind of shock. That is until I exploded in my own violent outrage to put an end to it. That got the three of us sent to live with their mother in Los Angeles on my twelfth birthday, two weeks before Christmas in 1967.

But I've skipped over the juicy humiliation events that also helped to shape my adolescent mind. It was already bad enough that I looked White with a Black family and people were always whispering about what that meant, but how about starting school a year late only to have them inform me that the name I had gone by for almost seven years wasn't really my name after all. I became aware of this when my teacher corrected me after I had proudly demonstrated how I could already write my own name - Bobby Hart.

Thus ensued my very first verbal rampage. I was so convinced that they were trying to pull a fast one that I attempted to storm out of the school. That, of course, got me forcibly held in the office until my mother could arrive to both shock the school officials by being Black and to reveal the awful truth with a copy of my birth certificate - the truth that my actual name is more like the title of a '70's Janis Joplin song. It was an innocent mistake I guess. With my father being who he was, everyone had just added his last name to my nickname and no one had ever bothered corrected the error. It would have been nice if someone had informed me however.

Oddly enough, I didn't lose my love of writing. In fact, by the fourth grade I had become a very prolific, if somewhat secretive, journalist. I carried around my latest hand-made journal everywhere I went, using every spare moment to jot down my thoughts on everything from my dreams of space travel to my deepest feelings about those around me. Please note that I have always had a very vivid imagination. Which is why, in hindsight, I now realize that it was a bad idea to be carrying such a personal and private document around with me on the school playground.

But how was a ten year old to anticipate what happened when I unknowingly lost it during recess. Finding who it belonged to was easy of course, since my name was proudly emblazoned across the front. Even with all that given, not even the most cynical could have expected that my teacher would force me to stand in front of the class while she read aloud some of my most private thoughts and yearnings. I could handle the laughter at my spacehead ideas well enough, but the revelation of my feelings towards others in the school - and even in the classroom at the time - amounts to one of the most humiliating events of my life.

Finally, since it's December 21st as I wrap this up, it seems appropriate to mention something about my early experiences with Christmas. What little I can remember of them can be boiled down into three words: anticipation, disappointment, and envy. While my mother was a vocal proponent of religion, her father being a Baptist minister and all, her lifestyle didn't exactly leave much room for handing out gifts. My father, on the other hand, was more of the Bah! Humbug! type. And while I'm sure he would have used any excuse to dress me in the Stetson's, Stacy Adam's and suits he loved so much (other than when he was in pajamas, I literally can't remember him dressed in any other way), that wasn't exactly high on my wish list.

Pretty much the only memory I have from my very early childhood is of toy blocks (the ones with letters and numbers) and of this beautiful miniature car with opening doors and hoods and a steering wheel that actually worked. Other than that, the only 'toy' I remember having been given was a Mattel Power Shop that I got after my failed attempt to build a rocket was discovered. I can clearly remember my fierce campaigning, to my father's girlfriend, on how the balsa wood and lathe would be a much better way to go (along with the model rocket engines I planned to campaign for later) than metal pipes and gun powder. To be clear, my plans were known only to my father's girlfriend. From my father's perspective, the Power Shop was strictly 'education' and 'work' related.

To be honest, I don't remember if the Power Shop or the blocks or the car had anything to do with Christmas. And to the best of my memory, every other play toy I had resulted from my own efforts to either bargain for them or to build them myself. I made my own superhero costumes and pretend weapons from scraps of cloth donated by my father's 'girl friends' and other stuff I found. I built my own pretend spaceships from cardboard boxes, scraps of plastic and tubing, crayons and paint. I was never able to finish my soapbox derby racer because this required materials and expertise beyond my (or my benefactors) means.

Yes, I was very envious of the gifts bestowed upon others. Envious of the remote-controlled tractor-trailer sent by my oldest sister to her son, and of the tricycle my other sister's son had when they still lived with us. I don't remember how I got the only bicycle I had during those times - I must have bargained for it somehow. I know it didn't come from my family because of their complaints about having that nasty, rusty old thing around. I do remember the humiliation of having to get rid of it, as well as the humiliation of having to feign indifference to explain, to other kids, my poverty of playthings despite having a 'wealthy' father.

I'd love to be able to say that I've now described all, or even most, of the violence and humiliation from my childhood. But the truth is that I've barely scratched the surface. There was so much more that I'm too tired and much to embarrassed to go into. But at least what I have written here now exists outside my head as well as within, and maybe the memories will lose some of their power to cause me pain. Maybe next time I'll talk a little about things that happened after I turned twelve.

I want ice water.

What - Me Worried?

2009-02-15T09:36:00.003-05:00

My Internet connection has been off since the beginning of December due to my own kind of 'economic downturn,' causing me to do my share of begging, pleading, and promising to repay. So even though it may be as late as mid February when this article gets posted, it's actually 3:30am on December 16th as I begin to write. Of course, I'll probably still be tweaking it right up to the moment it's posted. Be forewarned: I am being possessed intermittently a Hollywood caricature of an old Black woman as I struggle to write about this very serious subject. So grin and bear with me, please.

Once again it's that time of year when the red-suited storm troopers have come to hold our loved ones (and nation) hostage until we bankrupt ourselves fulfilling their ransom demands. However, I think that perhaps their masters will be disappointed this year, due to the fact that their previous ad-induced bling-bling flings have already pretty well deflated the bubble. Can anyone please explain to me why everyone is so surprised to find that the banks, including the little piggy, are empty, considering the deranged and frenzied spending binge we've been on for the past few years?

But there's a new year a comin' and hope springs eternal! No wait, I think that I may just be regurgitatin some o dat Madison avenue haze. In reality, the forecast for the immediate future ain't looking all that rosy. For although the Bush may have been thoroughly burned, the new Obamanation will have one mighty struggle rising from these ashes. And as all of those campaign polls and election results demonstrate, the new Man's race is not his biggest problem. I don't know about you, but my cupboard is getting pretty bare and I'm finding it very difficult to live on just bread, or words, alone. But enough about my little problems.

I'm more concerned about all those poor suffering rich folk. Man it was sad to see them all parading into Washington in their corporate jets, limousines, and fancy suits to beg for ol' Uncle Sam's help. Po' thangs! Pitiful, just pitiful. Kinda brings to mind what it musta been like goin' before the motor company's pay allocation board in that Atlas Shrugged book. You know, the one where your pay was based on ol' mister Lennon's from each according to his abilities and to each according to his needs. And it's not like it's their fault neither, 'cause ain't the pursuit of something for nothing the new American Dream? Those folk simply done what any red-hot-blooded American would do when he finds a good piece of American Pie within his reach. After all, everybody knows that all that stuff about 'earning your way' and 'living within your means' is just The Man's way of keeping us down.

And speakin' of those nice gov'ment folks, they certainly done their parts gettin' us into this mess ain't they? We sent them to mount Washington to cure all that ails us, and with all their wars on this and wars on that, they've given new meaning to 'put your money where your mouth is.' And just look at all the fine work they've done in 'leveling the playing field.' Why with all their half-truths, double-dealin, and outright hypocrisy, we're now the equal of any of those third-rate countries that used to speak so badly 'bout us. Yes indeed, those big shots sure have set a fine example for us all. It does our country right proud to be represented so well. After all, who needs 'moral authority' anyway? If you ask me, I'd say that being the 'leader of the free world' was pretty high fallutin' thinking to begin with.

But wait just a darned minute there. Did I get that backwards? Wasn't there something about of the people, by the people, and for the people? Wasn't it us, after all, that bought lock, stock, and barrel into the idea of 'buy now and pay later?' How many of us actually stepped forward to raise hell over the true meaning of 'consumer driven economy? Maybe, just maybe, those big shots are merely reflections of what 'we the people' have allowed ourselves to become. Maybe the American Dream has lost it's luster because we've failed to maintain it, like the way we've failed to maintain our now crumbling infrastructure. Could be time to break out that ol' bottle of Tarn-X?

Now I hesitate to say this, as I wouldn't want y'all to think I've gone all pollyannaish on you. But is it possible that we could solve all our 'market worries' by simply bringing to the market something that will actually sell? What, exactly, are we buying with all those bails of cash our great leaders are passing out? Could it be that no matter how hard you pursue it, genuine happiness can only be gained by those who've earned it?

Will we ever wake from this nightmare so we can dare to Dream again?

I want ice water.

"Fortunately, I keep 'em numbered..."

2008-11-29T16:34:00.015-05:00

"... for just such an emergency." Thus spoke the great Foghorn Leghorn in one of my very favorite cartoons. He was, of course, referring to his feathers, which had been blown off in yet another failed attempt to get than darned hound dog. Although I watched many cartoons as a kid, there's something about that loud-mouthed southern baritone that really appealed to me. And while the Foghorn vs. hound dog conflicts were certainly no less violent than Bugs vs. anyone, that southern accent somehow made them seem more 'civil.' And, of course, it's 'civility' that I like to talk about.

In all of the Foghorn Leghorn cartoons, the plot always involves the two adversaries devising and setting in motion various schemes based on their predictions of how the other would behave in a given set of circumstances. Invariably however, there were unaccounted for events that caused their schemes to blow up in their faces. And that, of course, is what makes them funny. We laugh because it reminds us of our own ill-fated attempts to overcome the unpredictability of life, in a way that's so much less distressing than the memories of our failures.

So, to the double-edged issue at hand: Is there something wrong with wanting to be able to predict the way people will react to things? And is there also something wrong with being predictable to other people? The first side is important to me because my inability to predict the reactions of others leads me to feel that either myself, or everyone else, is insane. The second side is important because I have too often been labeled as 'boring' because I'm so predictableThis last was brought to my attention when someone I cared for deeply revealed that I had been the butt of a secret running joke about it.

To me, a person who thinks and acts in a rational manner should be predictable. After all, isn't predictability part of the definition of rational? But if I'm predictable because I'm rational, what does it mean when people whom I find to be unpredictable are able to predict my reactions so easily? Call me crazy, but I think that other people deliberately behave in a manner that makes them hard to predict and that I'm so predictable because I don't. Which brings us to the issue of spontaneity.

In today's society, predictability equates to a lack of spontaneity and, of course, a lack of spontaneity means that you're boring. And by the same logic, being unpredictable means that you're interesting and/or exciting. If you don't believe me, I invite you to take a look at the statistics on relationships. The fact is that the vast majority of relationships end in disaster precisely because people believe that they must behave in unpredictable ways to be attractive, and that those who behave in unpredictable ways are the ones they want.

Now I will admit that perhaps I'm a little obsessive in my desire to predict everything. But my 'lack of spontaneity' stems from a very rational fear of the unpredictable reactions of others.

Have a listen to Nothing Ever Goes As Planned by Styx for a musical metaphor for this post.

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not! Gays and Marriage

2008-11-26T16:49:00.002-05:00

This, I think, is the easiest of these issues to deal with. Really folks, aren't 'gays' human too? Aren't they just as deserving of 'human rights' as anyone else? And none of that 'but it's not natural' crap. As any self-respecting scientist will tell you, 'unnatural acts' are impossible by definition. Now walking through the air from rooftop to rooftop would be an unnatural act! Are you, whom I assume want to be considered rational, really willing to admit that that you've gotten all bent out of shape over things that don't even exist? Perhaps you think that 'science is just another tool of Satan being used to trick us into doing evil.' Well something is doing the trick alright, but perhaps we should look a little closer to home in our search for the villain. The fact is that homosexuals, bisexuals, and gender bending have always existed, and not just amongst us humans. Get over it!

The big noise these days is over 'Gay Marriage.' Would someone please tell me why Gays should be protected from making the same stupid mistakes as the rest of us! Personally, I can't understand why anyone would want to be legally bound to another person anyway. That smacks of slavery to me, but humans do have a long history of choosing bondage over freedom - no pun intended. I'd rather know that the person I'm with is free to leave at any time - that he or she doesn't really need to be with me at all - because that's the only way I can really know that they're with me because they want to be. That's the kind of 'security' I want. The kind that truly frees me from those psychotic urges to control my mate's activities and associations.

Perhaps you're are now thinking: 'Now wait just a darn minute there. What about the kids?' Well, if you think that the true purpose of marriage to ensure that our kids are properly cared for, then I submit that what's commonly considered 'a proper marriage' has a miserable track record. Let's face it, unless you have the resources available to the rich and powerful, you don't have much hope of providing all that your children need, or of protecting them from the ravages of living in an irrational society. And as we all know, even the rich and powerful can't get it right if they don't know what they're doing. While I don't claim to have any perfect answers, I am sure that kids need be be raised in an environment that encourages free thought and provides examples of rational behavior.

At the risk of inspiring another of those 'pitchforks and torches' moments, may I offer the concept of the Group Family. No, I am not advocating the lifestyles of polygamous cults or kings with harems, although most would consider my thoughts just as radical. I'm referring to a voluntary adult enterprise, with each member investing his or her own set of resources, towards the goal of caring and working for each other and their children. Imagine that, a more highly evolved 'sacred institution' dedicated to the happiness and prosperity of it's members. It's like Freedom breeding freedom! What a concept!

I was first introduced to this idea through the works of author Robert A. Heinlein, and most particularly from his book Time Enough For Love. I urge anyone looking to expand their horizons a bit, or who just simply want a damn good reading experience, to give it a go.

I want ice water.

Tolerance... Not!

2008-11-23T16:04:00.026-05:00

With all the news about the massive problems we face, and of the massive attempts to fix them, I'm reminded of other big problems we've tackled and of just how well those efforts have fared. Some of these problems include Gays and Marriage, Racism, Religion, Prostitution, and Drug Abuse. Like the old saying that 'no man is an island,' none of these issues stand on their own. They are all interelated and filled with common threads. I will attempt to give my own 'fair and balanced' look at these issues in a series of upcoming articles.

An initial insight into what I think is reflected in the lyrics to Pink Floyd's Outside The Wall:

"All alone, or in two's,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.

"And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall."

And more in the lyrics to Pink Floyd's The Gunner's Dream:

"A place to stay. Enough to eat.
Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street.
Where you can speak out loud about your doubts and fears.
And what's more, no one ever disappears.
You never hear their Standard Issue kicking in your door.

You can relax on both sides of the tracks. And maniacs
Don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control.
And everyone has recourse to The Law.
And no one kills the children anymore.
No one kills the children anymore...

Take heed of the dream.
Take heed. "

No prose better could reflect how I feel about these issues, not to mention how important it is for me to get it right.

I want ice water.