From my new friend Amber's Myspace blog, this puts into words something I express to people in my life all the time, and for once, it does so more articulately than myself. Given that, I have no shame borrowing, reposting, sharing, and giving the credit to the one(s) who said it best and going out strong. People do come into our lives for a reason, a season, and/or a lifetime, and each one of these serves unique and necessary purpose(s) for us just as we do for those into whose lives we are sent or led. I think it takes growing up, some life experience, and more than a little maturity before we recognize which is which and treat each situation individually and appropriately...so enjoy!
"People always come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.
When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do...
When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need you have expressed outwardly or inwardly.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty,
or to provide you with guidance and support,
to aid you physically, emotionally, or even spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend to you, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be...
Then, without any wrong doing on your part or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end...
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they just walk away.
Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met,
our desire fulfilled; their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered and it is now time to move on...
When people come into your life for a SEASON,
it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn.
They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
And like Spring turns to Summer and Summer to Fall,
the season eventually ends...
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, those things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person/people, anyway, and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas in your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant.
Thank you for being part of my life...
Everyone hears what you say. Friends listen to what you say.
Best friends listen to what you don't say."
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Let Child Protective Services Try to Pull That Nonsense Here
I'm with Emperor Misha on this one...I don't even have children of my own yet and this makes my blood boil. So let me get this right...German authorities send in 15 uniformed officers to forcibly remove a child from her home because her parents dared to homeschool her, kept the child away from her parents for an extended period of time, and now are offering to maybe give her back if they voluntarily relinquish custody of their other five children...otherwise, they may just take all six kids out of the home. Child Protective Services here in the U.S. are sometimes overzealous, but they haven't gotten that bad...yet. Let some goons try to take my kids from my home for something so frivolous, and the local coroner is going to be putting in some overtime...just saying is all. Read the whole disgusting story, but don't have any throwable objects handy when you do.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Balance and Unrelenting Opposition
The Other Side of Kim has a great post here about what's required of responsible citizens to affect change in the real world as opposed to wingnut idiocy of either the far right or the far left. It may make us feel good to vent, and we should do so, as it's our right under the First Amendment and we'd be foolish not to make good use of it...BUT as with anything else, the order of the day is balance until extreme measures become necessary and unavoidable. The socialist Democrats in charge of Congress and the mostly RINO in the White House are not my first choices by far, but have things gotten so bad yet that it's time for boiling tar, feathers, and firing squads? Not so much. That said, it is our job to keep it from getting there, to prevail by peaceful and lawful means so that we never get to a place where we have no other choice but to take up arms against our fellow citizens (or some sort of foreign invading force). We do that by challenging idiocy and delusions where we find them, advocating for the things we believe to be right, and defeating through the political process anyone of any ideolgical stripe who would take us to a place where the first two of these things are no longer options. As usual, read it all, and all emphasis is mine.
"The question of what our society would have to look like, or what rights would have to be usurped, that would signal to all of us that it would be time to press the Reset Button. ... We’re nowhere close to that, and I doubt very much that we will ever get to that point.
That said, here are a few of the signs that would be required to press the Reset Button:
--Our country is invaded, or taken over by a foreign government.
--Our elections are suspended.
--A permanent state of martial law is invoked.
--Ordinary citizens are rounded up in trucks or cattle cars.
--Newspapers, radio stations, TV stations and Internet websites are closed by government order.
--Gun ownership is universally outlawed.
Beyond those conditions, any discussion of pressing a reset button is delusional. Remember: revolution is the ultimate step, something which is undertaken with extreme reluctance, and only when all else has failed. One does not apply revolution to change a situation which is only of passing and changeable irritation; and that’s the situation we’re in now.
But as with all things, there’s a balance. I don’t see evidence of arbitrary raids on people’s homes for political reasons. I do see it as part of the stupid War On Drugs, however, and where that power has been abused, I’ve yelled at law enforcement with extreme passion. But I’m not going to make that jump from “they’re raiding drug dealers” to “...therefore they’re going to raid everyone”, even though I view the growing militarization of the police with extreme suspicion and apprehension. ...
In all matters, I believe that the human condition is a search for the most elusive of quarries: balance. I understand perfectly well that the reason that balance is so elusive is that it rests at different places for different people—and that wherever the point of balance finally comes to rest, it’s going to alienate some for being too far in this direction, and others for being too far in that direction.
It’s why I regard totalitarianism, whether on the communitarian side or on the individualism side of the spectrum, with such suspicion and contempt. Ideological purism is the refuge of the unintelligent or the intellectually lazy, because it requires so little effort. All one has to do is state the ideal, enforce it, and ignore or suppress the consequences. Ideological adherence then becomes quite easy.
It’s far more difficult to strike a balance when one is all too aware of consequences—that choice x leads inevitably to consequence y, with society sliding down a slippery slope. To over-use the analogy, therefore, one can overcome a slippery slope by first recognizing its existence, and then by putting on spiked shoes before stepping onto it. ...
The spiked shoes, therefore, have been clear from the beginning: no discussion of “settled arguments” (socialism vs capitalism, anarchy vs an ordered society, unarmed society vs armed society); no slander or ad hominem attacks on other members; and no talk of rebellion or sedition. ...
I understand the reasons for the anger and frustration. The newly-arrived socialists in Congress are pushing all our buttons, because that is what they do. What our country does not need is opposition in the same terms of invective, name-calling and threats. What we need is quiet, firm and steadfast resolve to get rid of them and their philosophy, by peaceful means.
Now, more than ever, we conservatives need to act less like the Howling Moonbats of the Left, and more like the Silent Majority. That doesn’t mean we should shut up—on the contrary: now, more than ever we need to be more vocal in our opposition to the Socialists—but what it does mean is that we need to rein in our emotions, and substitute passion and determination for anger.
Let the Marxists march in the streets with puppets, screaming that Bush = Hitler. Let the socialists in Congress try to raise taxes, institute gun control, implement loony ecological policy and advocate abject surrender and cowardly retreat in the War Against Terrorist Bastards (to name but a few).
What we need to do is raise our children to be conservative, responsible citizens with invincible conviction; overcome the creeping socialism taught in our schools and universities by homeschooling or boycott; fight against political correctness, if necessary through the courts; teach non-gun-owners to shoot; call on our Congressional representatives, even if they’re howling Lefties (perhaps especially if they’re howling Lefties), and express our opposition to any of their actions which displease us.
What we need is quiet, implacable and unrelenting opposition."
"The question of what our society would have to look like, or what rights would have to be usurped, that would signal to all of us that it would be time to press the Reset Button. ... We’re nowhere close to that, and I doubt very much that we will ever get to that point.
That said, here are a few of the signs that would be required to press the Reset Button:
--Our country is invaded, or taken over by a foreign government.
--Our elections are suspended.
--A permanent state of martial law is invoked.
--Ordinary citizens are rounded up in trucks or cattle cars.
--Newspapers, radio stations, TV stations and Internet websites are closed by government order.
--Gun ownership is universally outlawed.
Beyond those conditions, any discussion of pressing a reset button is delusional. Remember: revolution is the ultimate step, something which is undertaken with extreme reluctance, and only when all else has failed. One does not apply revolution to change a situation which is only of passing and changeable irritation; and that’s the situation we’re in now.
But as with all things, there’s a balance. I don’t see evidence of arbitrary raids on people’s homes for political reasons. I do see it as part of the stupid War On Drugs, however, and where that power has been abused, I’ve yelled at law enforcement with extreme passion. But I’m not going to make that jump from “they’re raiding drug dealers” to “...therefore they’re going to raid everyone”, even though I view the growing militarization of the police with extreme suspicion and apprehension. ...
In all matters, I believe that the human condition is a search for the most elusive of quarries: balance. I understand perfectly well that the reason that balance is so elusive is that it rests at different places for different people—and that wherever the point of balance finally comes to rest, it’s going to alienate some for being too far in this direction, and others for being too far in that direction.
It’s why I regard totalitarianism, whether on the communitarian side or on the individualism side of the spectrum, with such suspicion and contempt. Ideological purism is the refuge of the unintelligent or the intellectually lazy, because it requires so little effort. All one has to do is state the ideal, enforce it, and ignore or suppress the consequences. Ideological adherence then becomes quite easy.
It’s far more difficult to strike a balance when one is all too aware of consequences—that choice x leads inevitably to consequence y, with society sliding down a slippery slope. To over-use the analogy, therefore, one can overcome a slippery slope by first recognizing its existence, and then by putting on spiked shoes before stepping onto it. ...
The spiked shoes, therefore, have been clear from the beginning: no discussion of “settled arguments” (socialism vs capitalism, anarchy vs an ordered society, unarmed society vs armed society); no slander or ad hominem attacks on other members; and no talk of rebellion or sedition. ...
I understand the reasons for the anger and frustration. The newly-arrived socialists in Congress are pushing all our buttons, because that is what they do. What our country does not need is opposition in the same terms of invective, name-calling and threats. What we need is quiet, firm and steadfast resolve to get rid of them and their philosophy, by peaceful means.
Now, more than ever, we conservatives need to act less like the Howling Moonbats of the Left, and more like the Silent Majority. That doesn’t mean we should shut up—on the contrary: now, more than ever we need to be more vocal in our opposition to the Socialists—but what it does mean is that we need to rein in our emotions, and substitute passion and determination for anger.
Let the Marxists march in the streets with puppets, screaming that Bush = Hitler. Let the socialists in Congress try to raise taxes, institute gun control, implement loony ecological policy and advocate abject surrender and cowardly retreat in the War Against Terrorist Bastards (to name but a few).
What we need to do is raise our children to be conservative, responsible citizens with invincible conviction; overcome the creeping socialism taught in our schools and universities by homeschooling or boycott; fight against political correctness, if necessary through the courts; teach non-gun-owners to shoot; call on our Congressional representatives, even if they’re howling Lefties (perhaps especially if they’re howling Lefties), and express our opposition to any of their actions which displease us.
What we need is quiet, implacable and unrelenting opposition."
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Why the 2nd Amendment is About MUCH More Than Hunting
The inimitable Mrs. DuToit tells us here why the Second Amendment is such an important part of the Constitution. Although it does cover things like our right to hunt, it also covers things like self-defense from criminals who would do us and our families harm, and it is our last line of defense in case our government ever gets so out of control that it becomes tyrannical. It seems that we have ever more elected representatives who would like to nanny-state regulate every aspect of our lives, but our government as a whole hasn't reached as bad a place as pre-Revolutionary War Britain, or heaven forbid, a socialist hellhole like North Korea or any number of Islamist-run Third World crapholes...yet. If it ever does, or gets close enough where we the people can see the precipice approaching, and there are no other options left, that's where the Second Amendment has its ultimate value. Read the whole thing.
"The Second Amendment, which articulates your “right to bear arms,” has NOTHING TO DO WITH HUNTING.
Hunting is an activity that is not specifically articulated as a right in the Bill of Rights. It doesn’t need to be articulated because the ability to own a gun for defense of self/realm provides the umbrella protection of gun ownership that hunters and other shooting sports participants can find cover. However, the semantics of this are terribly important, as we’re constantly treated to a parade of politicians donning their Elmer Fudd outfits come election season, to show their kinship with hunters to demonstrate how they support hunters’ rights.
We do not care how you feel about hunters’ rights. We want to know how you feel about ALL of us. We want to know, as Rep. Suzanna Gratia Hupp of Texas has said, “how he or she views you as an individual… as a trustworthy and productive citizen, or as part of an unruly crowd that needs to be lorded over, controlled, supervised, and taken care of.”
It is important NOT to mince words about the Second Amendment. The Second Amendment articulates (not grants) the right of citizens to own guns to defend themselves AGAINST THEIR OWN GOVERNMENT. It is articulated so that we can, should they decide that the government is something other than a Republic by and of The People, to SHOOT THE BASTARDS. It is so that we can drag tyrants from their homes and kill them, whether they are home grown tyrants or foreign ones. It is so that this government cannot decide that it doesn’t want to respect any of our other rights. It is a last resort to prevent tyranny and a constant reminder not to try it.
We want and demand the right to own scary looking guns (regardless of the fact that some non-scary looking ones not included in assault weapons bans have the EXACT same functionality) so that we SCARE THE BEJEESUS out of our elected representatives. That’s the PURPOSE of having them: to instill fear and to remind them that their hold on us is limited. We have the power and the means to fight back and to make WAR on them. ...
The gun community understands the great responsibility of firearm ownership. We get that. We understand that we own tools to make war and death. We police our own, doing our best to purge the whack jobs and nut cases from our ranks. We do this because we ALSO understand the order of bringing about change is the four boxes:
1. Soap
2. Ballot
3. Jury
4. Cartridge
In that order and never getting to the last until the first three boxes are completely and entirely gone from us. ...
We, collectively, give our government a tremendous amount of our trust. We give them the power to make and enforce laws. We give them the power to incarcerate those among us who refuse to abide by those laws. With that trust we demand only the commensurate, reciprocal trust: You may make war against us, so we retain the right and the means to make war against you. It is a permanent and perpetual stand off. It is a mutual destruction pact. We do not ever expect to need to make war against our own government and will fight with the first three boxes with diligence and voraciousness, but we will make sure the need to go to the guns will never happen by keeping and maintaining our insurance policy: exercising the right to own guns, and doing so responsibly.
We scream, shout, WRITE, and we VOTE. As long as they remember that and respect our rights to the first three boxes, they have nothing to fear from the last."
"The Second Amendment, which articulates your “right to bear arms,” has NOTHING TO DO WITH HUNTING.
Hunting is an activity that is not specifically articulated as a right in the Bill of Rights. It doesn’t need to be articulated because the ability to own a gun for defense of self/realm provides the umbrella protection of gun ownership that hunters and other shooting sports participants can find cover. However, the semantics of this are terribly important, as we’re constantly treated to a parade of politicians donning their Elmer Fudd outfits come election season, to show their kinship with hunters to demonstrate how they support hunters’ rights.
We do not care how you feel about hunters’ rights. We want to know how you feel about ALL of us. We want to know, as Rep. Suzanna Gratia Hupp of Texas has said, “how he or she views you as an individual… as a trustworthy and productive citizen, or as part of an unruly crowd that needs to be lorded over, controlled, supervised, and taken care of.”
It is important NOT to mince words about the Second Amendment. The Second Amendment articulates (not grants) the right of citizens to own guns to defend themselves AGAINST THEIR OWN GOVERNMENT. It is articulated so that we can, should they decide that the government is something other than a Republic by and of The People, to SHOOT THE BASTARDS. It is so that we can drag tyrants from their homes and kill them, whether they are home grown tyrants or foreign ones. It is so that this government cannot decide that it doesn’t want to respect any of our other rights. It is a last resort to prevent tyranny and a constant reminder not to try it.
We want and demand the right to own scary looking guns (regardless of the fact that some non-scary looking ones not included in assault weapons bans have the EXACT same functionality) so that we SCARE THE BEJEESUS out of our elected representatives. That’s the PURPOSE of having them: to instill fear and to remind them that their hold on us is limited. We have the power and the means to fight back and to make WAR on them. ...
The gun community understands the great responsibility of firearm ownership. We get that. We understand that we own tools to make war and death. We police our own, doing our best to purge the whack jobs and nut cases from our ranks. We do this because we ALSO understand the order of bringing about change is the four boxes:
1. Soap
2. Ballot
3. Jury
4. Cartridge
In that order and never getting to the last until the first three boxes are completely and entirely gone from us. ...
We, collectively, give our government a tremendous amount of our trust. We give them the power to make and enforce laws. We give them the power to incarcerate those among us who refuse to abide by those laws. With that trust we demand only the commensurate, reciprocal trust: You may make war against us, so we retain the right and the means to make war against you. It is a permanent and perpetual stand off. It is a mutual destruction pact. We do not ever expect to need to make war against our own government and will fight with the first three boxes with diligence and voraciousness, but we will make sure the need to go to the guns will never happen by keeping and maintaining our insurance policy: exercising the right to own guns, and doing so responsibly.
We scream, shout, WRITE, and we VOTE. As long as they remember that and respect our rights to the first three boxes, they have nothing to fear from the last."
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Wisdom from "The Rule of Four"
My friend and colleague Caroline recently recommended a book to me, entitled "The Rule of Four", by Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason. Think a deeper, more interesting, less plodding and overtly religious "DaVinci Code"...it's about a group of students and their struggles finding the hidden meaning(s) of an ancient book that has flummoxed scholars since its publication over 500 years prior. This book has everything...many words of wisdom, great friendships, a good love story, solid scholarship, and plenty of quality plot twists. Admittedly, my eyes began to glaze over when they were talking about hieroglyphics, ancient languages, and some of the advanced mathematics, but not enough to distract from a fantastic book that I would recommend to anyone. I've posted below some of the best quotes from the book, so enjoy!
"A son is the promise that time makes to a man, the guarantee every father receives that whatever he holds dear will someday be considered foolish, and that the person he loves most in the world will misunderstand him.
Time weighs most on those who have it least...nothing is lighter than being young with the world on your shoulders; it gives you a feeling of possibility so seductive, you know there must be something more important you could be doing than studying for exams.
People say to victims that time is a great healer, but I have a different impression. Time disperses us, it's the guy at the amusement park who paints shirts with an airbrush, and we're the paint.
A pact made in passion is the only good excuse for bad judgment.
His intelligence was relentless and wild, a fire even he couldn't control. It swallowed entire books at a sitting, finding flaws in arguments, gaps in evidence, and errors in interpretation, even in subjects far from his own. The more he fed his destructive mind, the more it grew, leaving nothing behind. When it had burned everything in its path, the only thing left for it to do was to turn on itself.
Adulthood is a glacier encroaching quietly on youth. When it arrives, the stamp of childhood suddenly freezes, capturing us for good in the image of our last act, the pose we struck when the ice age set in.
Never invest yourself in anything so completely that its failure could cost you your happiness.
A good friend stands in harm's way for you the second you ask...a great friend does it without being asked.
The strong take from the weak, but the smart take from the strong.
Hope whispered forth from Pandora's box only after all the other plagues and sorrows escaped...it's both the last and best of things. Without it, there is only time, and time pushes at our backs like a centrifuge, forcing us outward and away until it nudges us into oblivion. Like all things in the universe, we are destined to diverge, and time is simply the yardstick of our separation. We are lonely in proportion to our years.
Every desire has its proper object. People spend their entire lives wanting things they shouldn't, and the world confuses them into taking their love and aiming it where it doesn't belong. All it takes to be happy is to love the right things in the right amounts.
Seeing her take off that sweater to reveal a black bra underneath, seeing the way it left her hair mussed, strands of hair floating in a halo of static electricity gave me a feeling that a sensational future had finally pressed itself up against a hopeful present, throwing the switch that completes the circuit of time.
The adventure of our first days soon blossomed into something else, a feeling I can only compare to the sensation of returning home, of joining a balance that needs no adjusting, as if the scales of my life had been waiting for her all along.
The delicious futility of impossible tasks is the catnip of overachievers.
The tongue of desire is forked, kissing two but loving one. Love draws lines between us like an astronomer plotting a constellation from stars, joining points into patterns that have no basis in nature. The butt of every triangle becomes the heart of another, until the roof of reality is a tessellation of love affairs. Taken together, they have the pattern of netting, and behind them is Love. Love is the only perfect fisherman, the one who casts the broadest net from which no fish can escape. His reward is to sit in the tavern of life, forever a boy among men, hoping someday to tell stories about the one that got away.
The two hardest things to contemplate in life are failure and age, which are one and the same. Perfection is the natural consequence of eternity...wait long enough and anything will realize its potential. It's simply not given to us in one lifetime to see those consummations, so every failure becomes a reminder of death.
The present is simply a reflection of the future. Imagine that we spend our whole lives staring into a mirror with the future at our backs, seeing it only in the reflection of what is here and now. Some of us would begin to believe that we could see tomorrow better by turning around to look at it directly. But those who did, without realizing it, would have lost the key to the perspective they once had. For one thing, they would never be able to see it in themselves. By turning their backs on the mirror, they would become the one element of the future their eyes could never find.
My heart is a bird in a cage, ruffling its wings with the ache of expectation."
"A son is the promise that time makes to a man, the guarantee every father receives that whatever he holds dear will someday be considered foolish, and that the person he loves most in the world will misunderstand him.
Time weighs most on those who have it least...nothing is lighter than being young with the world on your shoulders; it gives you a feeling of possibility so seductive, you know there must be something more important you could be doing than studying for exams.
People say to victims that time is a great healer, but I have a different impression. Time disperses us, it's the guy at the amusement park who paints shirts with an airbrush, and we're the paint.
A pact made in passion is the only good excuse for bad judgment.
His intelligence was relentless and wild, a fire even he couldn't control. It swallowed entire books at a sitting, finding flaws in arguments, gaps in evidence, and errors in interpretation, even in subjects far from his own. The more he fed his destructive mind, the more it grew, leaving nothing behind. When it had burned everything in its path, the only thing left for it to do was to turn on itself.
Adulthood is a glacier encroaching quietly on youth. When it arrives, the stamp of childhood suddenly freezes, capturing us for good in the image of our last act, the pose we struck when the ice age set in.
Never invest yourself in anything so completely that its failure could cost you your happiness.
A good friend stands in harm's way for you the second you ask...a great friend does it without being asked.
The strong take from the weak, but the smart take from the strong.
Hope whispered forth from Pandora's box only after all the other plagues and sorrows escaped...it's both the last and best of things. Without it, there is only time, and time pushes at our backs like a centrifuge, forcing us outward and away until it nudges us into oblivion. Like all things in the universe, we are destined to diverge, and time is simply the yardstick of our separation. We are lonely in proportion to our years.
Every desire has its proper object. People spend their entire lives wanting things they shouldn't, and the world confuses them into taking their love and aiming it where it doesn't belong. All it takes to be happy is to love the right things in the right amounts.
Seeing her take off that sweater to reveal a black bra underneath, seeing the way it left her hair mussed, strands of hair floating in a halo of static electricity gave me a feeling that a sensational future had finally pressed itself up against a hopeful present, throwing the switch that completes the circuit of time.
The adventure of our first days soon blossomed into something else, a feeling I can only compare to the sensation of returning home, of joining a balance that needs no adjusting, as if the scales of my life had been waiting for her all along.
The delicious futility of impossible tasks is the catnip of overachievers.
The tongue of desire is forked, kissing two but loving one. Love draws lines between us like an astronomer plotting a constellation from stars, joining points into patterns that have no basis in nature. The butt of every triangle becomes the heart of another, until the roof of reality is a tessellation of love affairs. Taken together, they have the pattern of netting, and behind them is Love. Love is the only perfect fisherman, the one who casts the broadest net from which no fish can escape. His reward is to sit in the tavern of life, forever a boy among men, hoping someday to tell stories about the one that got away.
The two hardest things to contemplate in life are failure and age, which are one and the same. Perfection is the natural consequence of eternity...wait long enough and anything will realize its potential. It's simply not given to us in one lifetime to see those consummations, so every failure becomes a reminder of death.
The present is simply a reflection of the future. Imagine that we spend our whole lives staring into a mirror with the future at our backs, seeing it only in the reflection of what is here and now. Some of us would begin to believe that we could see tomorrow better by turning around to look at it directly. But those who did, without realizing it, would have lost the key to the perspective they once had. For one thing, they would never be able to see it in themselves. By turning their backs on the mirror, they would become the one element of the future their eyes could never find.
My heart is a bird in a cage, ruffling its wings with the ache of expectation."
Friday, February 23, 2007
Patience Versus Waiting
I think a lot of people confuse patience with waiting, when, in point of fact, they aren't even close to the same thing. I believe that patience is actually a state of being, whereas waiting is actually an affirmative action (even though it doesn't sound that way at first. Everyone has done the waiting thing from time to time, but in my case it took me seeing how much of a failure waiting proved to be before I was ready to give patience a try.
Patience is something you can exercise, a way you can be while you are living your life and pursuing your passions. I think it allows you to have even better vision of life as it comes your way and greater appreciation when your dreams to come to fruition. If you are patient, then you have a broader definition of success, because it can mean different things at different times in different areas of life. It allows for growth and breathing room...for positive feelings at the positive developments in the areas of life that are going well that can help sustain us until the other areas of life that aren't going as we'd hoped get to where we want them to go.
Waiting, on the other hand, is not nearly so healthy or successful. Telling someone to "hurry up and wait" is one of the worst pieces of advice in the history of advice. It's something people affirmatively do, and it has all kinds of negative consequences (i.e., narrower vision and definitions of success, putting one or more areas of life on hold, and delusions of martyrdom instead of appreciation once whatever you thought you wanted actually arrives, if it ever does). With waiting, success is generally defined as one way only and in one area of life...where you feel like a failure in general if that one thing doesn't work out exactly as you'd hoped.
Probably the most vivid example that comes to mind immediately is how people wait on their love life to begin living. They think that until they meet the person they are supposed to be with forever that their life hasn't truly begun. No matter their successes in school, career, fitness, family and other relationships, the longer such folks go without meeting "the one", the more they feel like a failure and the more a sense of unhealthy, urgent panic sets in. The cruel irony of this is threefold: 1.) their panic can lead to things like rushing, settling, and a host of other bad decisions, 2.) the things in life that are good for them tend to suffer, and 3.) it may actually preclude them from meeting the person that would be best for them (i.e., if they always wanted to take dance lessons but wanted to wait until they were married, who's to say their soul mate wasn't missing a partner at a local dance class?).
Being patient is one of the hardest things to do, but it brings some of the richest rewards in all of life, so it's definitely worth doing...but when it comes to waiting, treat it like drugs and just say no.
Patience is something you can exercise, a way you can be while you are living your life and pursuing your passions. I think it allows you to have even better vision of life as it comes your way and greater appreciation when your dreams to come to fruition. If you are patient, then you have a broader definition of success, because it can mean different things at different times in different areas of life. It allows for growth and breathing room...for positive feelings at the positive developments in the areas of life that are going well that can help sustain us until the other areas of life that aren't going as we'd hoped get to where we want them to go.
Waiting, on the other hand, is not nearly so healthy or successful. Telling someone to "hurry up and wait" is one of the worst pieces of advice in the history of advice. It's something people affirmatively do, and it has all kinds of negative consequences (i.e., narrower vision and definitions of success, putting one or more areas of life on hold, and delusions of martyrdom instead of appreciation once whatever you thought you wanted actually arrives, if it ever does). With waiting, success is generally defined as one way only and in one area of life...where you feel like a failure in general if that one thing doesn't work out exactly as you'd hoped.
Probably the most vivid example that comes to mind immediately is how people wait on their love life to begin living. They think that until they meet the person they are supposed to be with forever that their life hasn't truly begun. No matter their successes in school, career, fitness, family and other relationships, the longer such folks go without meeting "the one", the more they feel like a failure and the more a sense of unhealthy, urgent panic sets in. The cruel irony of this is threefold: 1.) their panic can lead to things like rushing, settling, and a host of other bad decisions, 2.) the things in life that are good for them tend to suffer, and 3.) it may actually preclude them from meeting the person that would be best for them (i.e., if they always wanted to take dance lessons but wanted to wait until they were married, who's to say their soul mate wasn't missing a partner at a local dance class?).
Being patient is one of the hardest things to do, but it brings some of the richest rewards in all of life, so it's definitely worth doing...but when it comes to waiting, treat it like drugs and just say no.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Ten Signs You're a Moral Idiot
From the very entertaining Kerplunk, here are 10 pretty sure-fire signs that you are a moral idiot. I've reposted the ten reasons below, but there are fuller explanations at the post itself that are worth the read, so enjoy!
1. You can't tell the difference between Israel and her enemies.
2. You believe that the United States is the greatest threat to world peace.
3. You believe that all cultures are equally valid.
4. You believe that Iraq 2.0 is all about oil.
5. You believe that war is not the answer.
6. You believe that Fidel Castro has been a positive influence for Cuba and a role model for the world.
7. You believe that 9/11 was an inside job.
8. You believe we should sign the Kyoto Protocol.
9. You believe that socialism is still the answer.
10. You believe that (fill in the blank)...I believe that you are a massive, crippling idiot if you believe that unfettered open borders are a good thing for the continued existence of the United States.
1. You can't tell the difference between Israel and her enemies.
2. You believe that the United States is the greatest threat to world peace.
3. You believe that all cultures are equally valid.
4. You believe that Iraq 2.0 is all about oil.
5. You believe that war is not the answer.
6. You believe that Fidel Castro has been a positive influence for Cuba and a role model for the world.
7. You believe that 9/11 was an inside job.
8. You believe we should sign the Kyoto Protocol.
9. You believe that socialism is still the answer.
10. You believe that (fill in the blank)...I believe that you are a massive, crippling idiot if you believe that unfettered open borders are a good thing for the continued existence of the United States.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
When Hilarity Does NOT Ensue, by Tucker Max
An oldie but goodie from the Tucker Max archives re: his induction into the "backdoor man" hall of fame. I've read this guy's whole book, and let me tell you: there's some of the most depraved, insane, and hilarious stuff in there, and I LOVED it! It isn't often that I read, watch, or hear anything that makes me think "Oh SH*T! No way, I can't believe that just happened!" That literally happened more than a dozen times in a less than 300 page book of medium-sized print, and I still haven't fully recovered. It's too funny to excerpt, so I just figured I'd repost the whole story below...Enjoy!
"I spent the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year of college suckling on the parental teat in South Florida. It was the absolute prime of my "do anything to get laid" phase. I was recently freed from a 4-year long-distance relationship that began in high school and I wanted nothing more than to have sex with as many girls as possible.
Most of the things I did that summer are not story-worthy; you can only tell the same, "I got drunk on Dom and fucked this hottie" story so many times before it gets annoying. That summer I experienced every random sex situation that a 20 year old can imagine: fucking on the beach, getting head from random girls in club bathrooms, sleeping with 3 different girls in a day, getting so drunk I passed out during sex, getting arrested for receiving fellatio in the pool at the Delano, blah, blah, blah...Jesus. What does it say about how fucked up my life is that I don't consider these stories to be extraordinary anymore?
Anyway, while most of my stories may not be extraordinary for me, there is one very notable exception...
I was seeing one girl, "Jaime," about twice a week. She was a fresh arrival to South Beach, having moved there 5 months ago from upstate New York as a 19 year old with a modeling contract. We met through a mutual friend who befriended her while they were shooting a TV commercial. Five weeks and lots of sex later, she thought we were dating. I knew better, but she was way too hot to bother correcting her assumption.
The ex-girlfriend of 4-years I previously spoke about was very sexually conservative. It was missionary in the dark and then straight to sleep, with maybe a blowjob on the weekends if she'd had a few glasses of wine with dinner (it was a high school relationship, I didn't know any better). After four years of this, I was ready to experience all the things I'd missed out on (when I wasn't cheating on her, of course).
Buttsex, known in the biz as "anal," was one of these unknowns, and I decided that I wanted to try it. Jaime was the perfect partner: very hot and very sweet, and more importantly, very naïve and very open to suggestion.
She was reluctant at first, not understanding why we just couldn't keep having normal sex, so I had to employ my persuasive powers:
Jaime "But...I've never done it."
Tucker "I've never done it either; it can be our thing."
Jaime "But...I don't know if I'll like it."
Tucker "You won't have to worry about getting pregnant."
Jaime "But...I like normal sex."
Tucker "Everyone's doing anal. It's the new black."
Jaime "But...I don't know...it seems weird."
Tucker "It's the preferred method in Europe. Especially with the runway models. Don't you want to do runways in Europe?"
After a few weeks of this, she finally consented. Though she agreed to let me put my penis in her small hole, she extracted a promise in return:
"OK, we can try anal sex, but I want it to be special and romantic. You have to take me out to a nice place, like The Forge or Tantra, NOT one of your parent's restaurants, and it has to be a weekend night, NOT a Monday. And you have to keep taking me out on weekends. I'm tired of being your Monday night girl."
I made reservations for the next Friday at Tantra. Aside from being insanely expensive, Tantra is famous for having grass floors. Really; they put in new sod every week. They also advertise their food as "aphrodisiac cuisine." Yes, at that point in my life, I thought these things worked.
Thanks to my father's connections, I got us a corner booth in the grass room. She was quite impressed. I ordered like it was the Last Supper. No expense was spared. Two $110 bottles of merlot, veal rack, stone crabs, the Tantra Love platter--it was lavish and decadent. I was 21, stupid, and wanted to fuck Jaime in the butt; I wasn't about to let a $400 tab get in my way.
By the time we left Tantra, this girl had doe eyes that made Bambi look like a heroin-chic CK model. She could not have been more in love with me. The entire drive back to my place she was rubbing my crotch, telling me how badly she wanted to me to fuck her, how hot I made her, etc, etc. We get back to my place and our clothes are off before we even get in the door. We collapse on the bed and start fucking. Normal vaginal sex at first, just like always.
Now, what she did not know, and what I have not told you yet, was that I had a surprise waiting for her.
[Aside: Before I tell you what the surprise was, let me make this clear: As I stand right now, 27 as of this writing, I am a bad person. At 21, I was possibly the worst person in existence. I had no regard for the feelings of others, I was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion, and I saw other people only as a means to my happiness and not as humans worthy of respect and consideration. I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations....but of course, I'm still going to write about it.]
This was going to be my first time foraging in the ass forest, and I wanted to have a reminder of my trip, a memento I could carry with me the rest of my life...so I decided to film us.
I planned this beforehand, but I was afraid she would decline, so instead of being mature and discussing this with Jaime, I just made the executive decision to get it on camera...without telling her.
That alone is pretty bad. But instead of just setting up a hidden camera...I got my friend to hide in my closet and film it.
No really--I know that I will burn in hell. At this point, I'm just hoping that my life can serve as a warning to others.
I left my door unlocked and we arranged it so that around midnight my friend would go over to my place and wait until my car pulled in, and then run into the closet and get the camera ready. The top half of the closet door was a French shutter, so it was easy to move the slats and give him a decent camera shot through the closed door.
By the time Jaime and I got to the bed, I was so drunk I had forgotten that he was filming this, and of course she had no idea he was there. After a few minutes of standard sex, she kinda stopped and said, all serious and in her best seductive soap opera voice, "I'm ready."
I quickly flipped her over and grabbed the brand new bottle of AstroGlide I had on my bedside table.
A week prior, after Jaime consented to buttsex, I realized that I didn't have any idea how to do it. How exactly do you fuck a girl in the ass? Luckily, I had the world's best anal sex informational resource at my disposal: The gay waiter. I consulted several gay waiters who worked at one of my parents restaurants about the mechanics of buttsex, and each one recommended AstroGlide as the lubricant of choice. Much to my dismay, I learned that spitting on your dick is not enough lube for buttsex. Stupid, lying porn movies.
The other important piece of advice I remembered was from Calvin, "Make sure you use enough, because if this is her first time, she'll be especially tight, and it might hurt her. Use enough to really loosen her up and go slow until she gets used to it. Then it's smooth sailing from there."
Well, since some is good, more is better, right? At 21, this seemed logical.
I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed. I probably emptied half of the 4-ounces of AstroGlide into her. I have since learned from homosexuals that a 4-ounce bottle usually lasts them about 6 months. So yeah--I overdid it.
But Tucker Max wasn't done. Oh no, after depositing enough grease in her to run a Formula One racecar, I dumped half of what remained onto my cock and balls, really wanting to lube up because I didn't want her to be uncomfortable.
Really--consider my thought process: I was going to fuck her in the butt and film it without her consent, yet I was truly concerned about her personal comfort. Sometimes the contradictions in my personality even amuse me.
Predictably, I slid in with ease. She was a little tense at first, but with an Exxon Valdez size load spilled into her poop chute, she quickly loosened up and got into it. I liked it also; it had a different feel to it. Not as good as vaginal sex, a little grainy, kinda tight, but still very nice.
Before I knew it I was fucking her like the apocalypse was imminent, burying it to the hilt with impunity. After a few minutes I was ready to come. My urgency was expressed in my tempo, and I began really jackhammering her. As the excitement got the best of me, I pulled out too far and my dick came out of her ass. I kinda scrambled to grab my dick and put it back in so I could finish off inside of her, but before I could even get a hold of it and put it back in her ass, I heard a faint "psssst" sound and felt something wet and warm hit my crotch.
It was dark in the room (I was not smart or sober enough to leave the lights on for the camera), so after I looked down it took me a few seconds to realize that my dick, balls and groin area were covered in a viscous black liquid. I stopped moving and stared at my strangely colored crotch for a good 5 seconds, completely confused, until I realized what happened:
"Did you...did you just...shit on my dick??"
I reached down to touch the liquid feces, still in complete and utter disbelief that this girl shot explosive diarrhea on my penis, when, without warning, the smell hit me.
I have a very sensitive nose, and I have never been more repulsed by a smell in my life. The combination of synthetic AstroGlide and rancid stench of raw fecal matter combined to turn my stomach, which was full of seafood, veal and wine, completely over.
I tried to hold it back. I really did everything I could to stop myself, but there are certain physical reactions that are beyond conscious control. Before I knew what I was doing, it just came out:
"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"
I vomited all over her ass. Into her crack. Into her asshole. On her ass cheeks. On the small of her back. Everywhere.
She turned her head, said, "Tucker, what are you doing?," saw me vomiting on her, screamed "Oh my God!," and immediately joined me:
"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"
Watching her throw up on my bed made me vomit even more. Her vomiting all over my bed, me vomiting on her ass, the next step was almost inevitable.
I heard the loud CRASH first, turned to see my friend break through the shutters and rip the closet door off as he, the video camera, and the door tumbled out of the closet and crashed onto the floor next to us:
"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"
The memory of the 2-second span where all three of us were vomiting at once is permanently seared into my brain. I have never heard anything like that symphony of sickness. It was like something out of the old Pink Panther movies.
I think the crowning moment was when my eyes locked with Jaime's, I saw her moment of realization and then her quick shift from shock and surprise to complete and irreparable anger. Between bouts of hurling she flipped out:
"OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH."
She tried to stand up, slipped on the huge puddle of backflow AstroGlide on the bed, and fell into both my pile and her pile of vomit, covering her body and hair in vomit, shit and anal lubricant. She flailed on the bed for a second, grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and started running out of my place. Still naked and retching, my dick covered in shit and oil, I followed her as far as my front door.
The last contact I ever had with her is the image I witnessed of her in a dead sprint, a shit, vomit and grease stained sheet stuck to her body, running from my apartment.
POST-SCRIPT:
The camera we used was one of those old fragile ones that filmed onto a VHS tape, and when he crashed out of the closet, the tape recorder and tape broke. It didn't occur to us at that the tape records the images magnetically, and we could take the actual tape itself and get someone to put it in another holster until after we had thrown it out. I know it seems stupid now, and believe me I kick myself about it everyday, but you should have seen the apartment afterwards--the tape was not a high priority. AstroGlide, shit and vomit covered EVERYTHING.
I had to rent one of those steam cleaners, buy a new mattress, and I STILL lost my deposit. It was impossible to get the smell out. The next month was like living in a sewer. Every girl I brought back to my place after that refused to stay there, and some even refused to sleep with me anywhere because of how my place smelled.
What I never found out, and I still want to know, is how the girl got home. I never heard from her again, and the mutual friend who introduced us called her but didn't get her calls returned. I never heard anything about her or from her again, even though she left her clothes and ID at my place (she wore a tight dress out that night, and didn't bring a purse or any money with her).
Can you picture that scene? What did she do, hop in taxi? Wave down a passing car? Get on the bus? She lived at least 30 miles away, there is no way she walked home. It perplexes me to this day.
I'm hoping she reads this. Maybe then I'll find out how she got home."
"I spent the summer between my 2nd and 3rd year of college suckling on the parental teat in South Florida. It was the absolute prime of my "do anything to get laid" phase. I was recently freed from a 4-year long-distance relationship that began in high school and I wanted nothing more than to have sex with as many girls as possible.
Most of the things I did that summer are not story-worthy; you can only tell the same, "I got drunk on Dom and fucked this hottie" story so many times before it gets annoying. That summer I experienced every random sex situation that a 20 year old can imagine: fucking on the beach, getting head from random girls in club bathrooms, sleeping with 3 different girls in a day, getting so drunk I passed out during sex, getting arrested for receiving fellatio in the pool at the Delano, blah, blah, blah...Jesus. What does it say about how fucked up my life is that I don't consider these stories to be extraordinary anymore?
Anyway, while most of my stories may not be extraordinary for me, there is one very notable exception...
I was seeing one girl, "Jaime," about twice a week. She was a fresh arrival to South Beach, having moved there 5 months ago from upstate New York as a 19 year old with a modeling contract. We met through a mutual friend who befriended her while they were shooting a TV commercial. Five weeks and lots of sex later, she thought we were dating. I knew better, but she was way too hot to bother correcting her assumption.
The ex-girlfriend of 4-years I previously spoke about was very sexually conservative. It was missionary in the dark and then straight to sleep, with maybe a blowjob on the weekends if she'd had a few glasses of wine with dinner (it was a high school relationship, I didn't know any better). After four years of this, I was ready to experience all the things I'd missed out on (when I wasn't cheating on her, of course).
Buttsex, known in the biz as "anal," was one of these unknowns, and I decided that I wanted to try it. Jaime was the perfect partner: very hot and very sweet, and more importantly, very naïve and very open to suggestion.
She was reluctant at first, not understanding why we just couldn't keep having normal sex, so I had to employ my persuasive powers:
Jaime "But...I've never done it."
Tucker "I've never done it either; it can be our thing."
Jaime "But...I don't know if I'll like it."
Tucker "You won't have to worry about getting pregnant."
Jaime "But...I like normal sex."
Tucker "Everyone's doing anal. It's the new black."
Jaime "But...I don't know...it seems weird."
Tucker "It's the preferred method in Europe. Especially with the runway models. Don't you want to do runways in Europe?"
After a few weeks of this, she finally consented. Though she agreed to let me put my penis in her small hole, she extracted a promise in return:
"OK, we can try anal sex, but I want it to be special and romantic. You have to take me out to a nice place, like The Forge or Tantra, NOT one of your parent's restaurants, and it has to be a weekend night, NOT a Monday. And you have to keep taking me out on weekends. I'm tired of being your Monday night girl."
I made reservations for the next Friday at Tantra. Aside from being insanely expensive, Tantra is famous for having grass floors. Really; they put in new sod every week. They also advertise their food as "aphrodisiac cuisine." Yes, at that point in my life, I thought these things worked.
Thanks to my father's connections, I got us a corner booth in the grass room. She was quite impressed. I ordered like it was the Last Supper. No expense was spared. Two $110 bottles of merlot, veal rack, stone crabs, the Tantra Love platter--it was lavish and decadent. I was 21, stupid, and wanted to fuck Jaime in the butt; I wasn't about to let a $400 tab get in my way.
By the time we left Tantra, this girl had doe eyes that made Bambi look like a heroin-chic CK model. She could not have been more in love with me. The entire drive back to my place she was rubbing my crotch, telling me how badly she wanted to me to fuck her, how hot I made her, etc, etc. We get back to my place and our clothes are off before we even get in the door. We collapse on the bed and start fucking. Normal vaginal sex at first, just like always.
Now, what she did not know, and what I have not told you yet, was that I had a surprise waiting for her.
[Aside: Before I tell you what the surprise was, let me make this clear: As I stand right now, 27 as of this writing, I am a bad person. At 21, I was possibly the worst person in existence. I had no regard for the feelings of others, I was narcissistic and self-absorbed to the point of psychotic delusion, and I saw other people only as a means to my happiness and not as humans worthy of respect and consideration. I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations....but of course, I'm still going to write about it.]
This was going to be my first time foraging in the ass forest, and I wanted to have a reminder of my trip, a memento I could carry with me the rest of my life...so I decided to film us.
I planned this beforehand, but I was afraid she would decline, so instead of being mature and discussing this with Jaime, I just made the executive decision to get it on camera...without telling her.
That alone is pretty bad. But instead of just setting up a hidden camera...I got my friend to hide in my closet and film it.
No really--I know that I will burn in hell. At this point, I'm just hoping that my life can serve as a warning to others.
I left my door unlocked and we arranged it so that around midnight my friend would go over to my place and wait until my car pulled in, and then run into the closet and get the camera ready. The top half of the closet door was a French shutter, so it was easy to move the slats and give him a decent camera shot through the closed door.
By the time Jaime and I got to the bed, I was so drunk I had forgotten that he was filming this, and of course she had no idea he was there. After a few minutes of standard sex, she kinda stopped and said, all serious and in her best seductive soap opera voice, "I'm ready."
I quickly flipped her over and grabbed the brand new bottle of AstroGlide I had on my bedside table.
A week prior, after Jaime consented to buttsex, I realized that I didn't have any idea how to do it. How exactly do you fuck a girl in the ass? Luckily, I had the world's best anal sex informational resource at my disposal: The gay waiter. I consulted several gay waiters who worked at one of my parents restaurants about the mechanics of buttsex, and each one recommended AstroGlide as the lubricant of choice. Much to my dismay, I learned that spitting on your dick is not enough lube for buttsex. Stupid, lying porn movies.
The other important piece of advice I remembered was from Calvin, "Make sure you use enough, because if this is her first time, she'll be especially tight, and it might hurt her. Use enough to really loosen her up and go slow until she gets used to it. Then it's smooth sailing from there."
Well, since some is good, more is better, right? At 21, this seemed logical.
I opened the cap, crammed the bottle top into her asshole, and squeezed. I probably emptied half of the 4-ounces of AstroGlide into her. I have since learned from homosexuals that a 4-ounce bottle usually lasts them about 6 months. So yeah--I overdid it.
But Tucker Max wasn't done. Oh no, after depositing enough grease in her to run a Formula One racecar, I dumped half of what remained onto my cock and balls, really wanting to lube up because I didn't want her to be uncomfortable.
Really--consider my thought process: I was going to fuck her in the butt and film it without her consent, yet I was truly concerned about her personal comfort. Sometimes the contradictions in my personality even amuse me.
Predictably, I slid in with ease. She was a little tense at first, but with an Exxon Valdez size load spilled into her poop chute, she quickly loosened up and got into it. I liked it also; it had a different feel to it. Not as good as vaginal sex, a little grainy, kinda tight, but still very nice.
Before I knew it I was fucking her like the apocalypse was imminent, burying it to the hilt with impunity. After a few minutes I was ready to come. My urgency was expressed in my tempo, and I began really jackhammering her. As the excitement got the best of me, I pulled out too far and my dick came out of her ass. I kinda scrambled to grab my dick and put it back in so I could finish off inside of her, but before I could even get a hold of it and put it back in her ass, I heard a faint "psssst" sound and felt something wet and warm hit my crotch.
It was dark in the room (I was not smart or sober enough to leave the lights on for the camera), so after I looked down it took me a few seconds to realize that my dick, balls and groin area were covered in a viscous black liquid. I stopped moving and stared at my strangely colored crotch for a good 5 seconds, completely confused, until I realized what happened:
"Did you...did you just...shit on my dick??"
I reached down to touch the liquid feces, still in complete and utter disbelief that this girl shot explosive diarrhea on my penis, when, without warning, the smell hit me.
I have a very sensitive nose, and I have never been more repulsed by a smell in my life. The combination of synthetic AstroGlide and rancid stench of raw fecal matter combined to turn my stomach, which was full of seafood, veal and wine, completely over.
I tried to hold it back. I really did everything I could to stop myself, but there are certain physical reactions that are beyond conscious control. Before I knew what I was doing, it just came out:
"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"
I vomited all over her ass. Into her crack. Into her asshole. On her ass cheeks. On the small of her back. Everywhere.
She turned her head, said, "Tucker, what are you doing?," saw me vomiting on her, screamed "Oh my God!," and immediately joined me:
"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"
Watching her throw up on my bed made me vomit even more. Her vomiting all over my bed, me vomiting on her ass, the next step was almost inevitable.
I heard the loud CRASH first, turned to see my friend break through the shutters and rip the closet door off as he, the video camera, and the door tumbled out of the closet and crashed onto the floor next to us:
"BBBBBBLLLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH"
The memory of the 2-second span where all three of us were vomiting at once is permanently seared into my brain. I have never heard anything like that symphony of sickness. It was like something out of the old Pink Panther movies.
I think the crowning moment was when my eyes locked with Jaime's, I saw her moment of realization and then her quick shift from shock and surprise to complete and irreparable anger. Between bouts of hurling she flipped out:
"OH MY GOD--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--YOU FILMED THIS, YOU ASSHOLE-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH-- HOW COULD YOU-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--OH MY GOD-- BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH--I LET YOU FUCK ME IN THE ASS--BBBLLLLAAAAHHHH."
She tried to stand up, slipped on the huge puddle of backflow AstroGlide on the bed, and fell into both my pile and her pile of vomit, covering her body and hair in vomit, shit and anal lubricant. She flailed on the bed for a second, grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and started running out of my place. Still naked and retching, my dick covered in shit and oil, I followed her as far as my front door.
The last contact I ever had with her is the image I witnessed of her in a dead sprint, a shit, vomit and grease stained sheet stuck to her body, running from my apartment.
POST-SCRIPT:
The camera we used was one of those old fragile ones that filmed onto a VHS tape, and when he crashed out of the closet, the tape recorder and tape broke. It didn't occur to us at that the tape records the images magnetically, and we could take the actual tape itself and get someone to put it in another holster until after we had thrown it out. I know it seems stupid now, and believe me I kick myself about it everyday, but you should have seen the apartment afterwards--the tape was not a high priority. AstroGlide, shit and vomit covered EVERYTHING.
I had to rent one of those steam cleaners, buy a new mattress, and I STILL lost my deposit. It was impossible to get the smell out. The next month was like living in a sewer. Every girl I brought back to my place after that refused to stay there, and some even refused to sleep with me anywhere because of how my place smelled.
What I never found out, and I still want to know, is how the girl got home. I never heard from her again, and the mutual friend who introduced us called her but didn't get her calls returned. I never heard anything about her or from her again, even though she left her clothes and ID at my place (she wore a tight dress out that night, and didn't bring a purse or any money with her).
Can you picture that scene? What did she do, hop in taxi? Wave down a passing car? Get on the bus? She lived at least 30 miles away, there is no way she walked home. It perplexes me to this day.
I'm hoping she reads this. Maybe then I'll find out how she got home."
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
First Two Decorated Border Patrol Agents, Now a Texas Sheriff?! Where Does it End?
As if it weren't bad enough that decorated, veteran Border Patrol agents Ignacio Ramos and Jose Compean were railroaded by a kangaroo court into prison sentences of over a decade each for "violating the civil rights" of an illegal immigrant drug dealer, it actually gets worse. Now, via WorldNetDaily, comes the story of Texas Sheriff Gilmer Hernandez.
This brave law enforcement officer attempted to make a traffic stop of a van full of illegal immigrants, firing several gunshots into the tires and undercarriage of the van to disable it because it tried to run him over and kill him. So obviously, the driver should be charged with attempted murder and the others arrested and deported for illegal entry into the country, right? Wrong! Instead, the illegals were again given immunity and Hernandez was convicted in yet another sham trial because one of the bullets he fired ricocheted and struck one of the illegals in the mouth. His sentencing is March 12.
Perhaps worst of all, there is now proof (here and here) that but for the intervention and demands of Mexican authorities, at a minimum, Sheriff Hernandez would not have been prosecuted, and the same is likely true of Agents Ramos and Compean.
That's it, I have had it. Congressman Ted Poe (R-TX) is right when he says our Department of Justice should not be a bought and paid subsidiary of the Mexican government, and I also stand with Congressman Dana Rohrabacher (R-CA) calling for impeachment of President Bush if something isn't done to correct these grave injustices immediately. To my mind, part of that would include bringing ethics charges and disbarment proceedings against U.S. Attorney Johnny Sutton, the open borders zealot of a prosecutor who put all three of these brave law enforcement officers in jail. His withholding of exculpatory evidence, making deliberate omissions, and conjuring outright falsehoods to gain tainted convictions is no worse than the race-baiting Durham County, NC, District Attorney Mike Nifong (of the Duke lacrosse rape case infamy). These three men should have been given medals, not prison sentences, period, end of discussion.
"Rep. John Culberson, R-Texas – among a number of congressman who have fiercely opposed the prosecution of Ramos and Compean – told WND he has "long suspected that Mexican government officials ordered the prosecution of our law enforcement agents."
"Mexico wants to intimidate our law enforcement into leaving our border unprotected, and we now have confirmation of it in writing," Culberson said. ...
WND also has learned that on April 29, 2005, Sheriff Lettsinger in Edwards County advised that the Texas Rangers met with the district attorney in Del Rio and was told the state of Texas had been removed from the Hernandez case because the FBI and the federal government were taking over.
The Mexican national Rodriguez was in a Chevrolet Suburban van full of illegals that attempted to run over Hernandez after he had stopped the vehicle for running a stop sign April 14, 2005, in Rocksprings, Texas. Firing his weapon at the rear tires, a bullet fragment hit Rodriguez in the mouth, cutting her lip and breaking two teeth.
Hernandez, convicted of felony civil rights violations, is incarcerated in a Del Rio prison waiting sentencing."
This brave law enforcement officer attempted to make a traffic stop of a van full of illegal immigrants, firing several gunshots into the tires and undercarriage of the van to disable it because it tried to run him over and kill him. So obviously, the driver should be charged with attempted murder and the others arrested and deported for illegal entry into the country, right? Wrong! Instead, the illegals were again given immunity and Hernandez was convicted in yet another sham trial because one of the bullets he fired ricocheted and struck one of the illegals in the mouth. His sentencing is March 12.
Perhaps worst of all, there is now proof (here and here) that but for the intervention and demands of Mexican authorities, at a minimum, Sheriff Hernandez would not have been prosecuted, and the same is likely true of Agents Ramos and Compean.
That's it, I have had it. Congressman Ted Poe (R-TX) is right when he says our Department of Justice should not be a bought and paid subsidiary of the Mexican government, and I also stand with Congressman Dana Rohrabacher (R-CA) calling for impeachment of President Bush if something isn't done to correct these grave injustices immediately. To my mind, part of that would include bringing ethics charges and disbarment proceedings against U.S. Attorney Johnny Sutton, the open borders zealot of a prosecutor who put all three of these brave law enforcement officers in jail. His withholding of exculpatory evidence, making deliberate omissions, and conjuring outright falsehoods to gain tainted convictions is no worse than the race-baiting Durham County, NC, District Attorney Mike Nifong (of the Duke lacrosse rape case infamy). These three men should have been given medals, not prison sentences, period, end of discussion.
"Rep. John Culberson, R-Texas – among a number of congressman who have fiercely opposed the prosecution of Ramos and Compean – told WND he has "long suspected that Mexican government officials ordered the prosecution of our law enforcement agents."
"Mexico wants to intimidate our law enforcement into leaving our border unprotected, and we now have confirmation of it in writing," Culberson said. ...
WND also has learned that on April 29, 2005, Sheriff Lettsinger in Edwards County advised that the Texas Rangers met with the district attorney in Del Rio and was told the state of Texas had been removed from the Hernandez case because the FBI and the federal government were taking over.
The Mexican national Rodriguez was in a Chevrolet Suburban van full of illegals that attempted to run over Hernandez after he had stopped the vehicle for running a stop sign April 14, 2005, in Rocksprings, Texas. Firing his weapon at the rear tires, a bullet fragment hit Rodriguez in the mouth, cutting her lip and breaking two teeth.
Hernandez, convicted of felony civil rights violations, is incarcerated in a Del Rio prison waiting sentencing."
Monday, February 19, 2007
Thoughts on President Bush's Health Insurance Proposal
A few weeks back in a book review, I promised some more thoughts on the President's proposal re: health insurance, so here it is. Basically, the proposal is that people who buy private insurance would get a substantial tax cut, whereas anyone who gets insurance through their employer (like me) would get a substantial tax increase. The first thing I don't like is the administration's dishonesty regarding the proposal. At first, they tried to claim that it was not a tax hike, until several prominent bloggers and organizations reviewed in detail the nuts and bolts of the proposal and found it was exactly that. Any government proposal gets a skeptical eye from me, and that goes double when they start off lying about the details.
The last thing people who are in the middle class need is another tax increase, especially one for something they need as badly as health insurance. If fairness is at issue here, then why not simply allow people who get insurance through their employer to deduct that value of their policy from their taxable income? The corporations already get to deduct the cost of the health insurance for their employees, so why shouldn't employees be afforded the same courtesy? The government has plenty of tax revenue already, and they don't need anymore...they should learn to live like the rest of us and operate on a reasonable budget instead of reaching into my back pocket when the ever-expanding government leviathan needs to be fed again. Since this is a tax hike wolf in tax cut sheep's clothing, I definitely oppose this plan, and I hope very much that it falls prey to Presidential and Congressional election year politics and never makes it to the President's desk.
The last thing people who are in the middle class need is another tax increase, especially one for something they need as badly as health insurance. If fairness is at issue here, then why not simply allow people who get insurance through their employer to deduct that value of their policy from their taxable income? The corporations already get to deduct the cost of the health insurance for their employees, so why shouldn't employees be afforded the same courtesy? The government has plenty of tax revenue already, and they don't need anymore...they should learn to live like the rest of us and operate on a reasonable budget instead of reaching into my back pocket when the ever-expanding government leviathan needs to be fed again. Since this is a tax hike wolf in tax cut sheep's clothing, I definitely oppose this plan, and I hope very much that it falls prey to Presidential and Congressional election year politics and never makes it to the President's desk.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
A Grand Smackdown of John Murtha and Friends
By now, everyone has heard about Rep. John Murtha (D-PA) and his attempts to "slow bleed" us out of Iraq by putting so many conditions on any new troop funding for Iraq that the money never gets there and our troops are eventually butchered in such high numbers that we have to pull out. How this man was ever a Marine is beyond me, and he's certainly forfeited any right he ever had to call himself by such an honorable name. Not only does he not have the sack to ante up and put his name on a bill to actually cut off funds for the troops in Iraq, now he's trying to airbrush his way out of what he actually said and the implications of it all. He'll have the help of his friends in the MSM who would like nothing better than for his mistake in letting the mask slip off today's Democratic party in trying to disappear this slippage down the memory hole, but thanks to the blogosphere, the Internet is forever and his statements are preserved for all to see. Mike at Cold Fury tells Murtha, Pelosi, and the rest of these cowardly jackals where to go and how to get there...it's a vicious and fabulous read with a big-time language alert in effect, and I highly recommend it.
"You Democrats, with far too few exceptions, are a disgrace to the sacrifices made by our forefathers, and you have no business referring to yourselves as Americans. Since when is it the Congress’s mandate to run foreign policy, anyway? You bitch, piss, and moan all this time about Bush’s supposedly unscrupulous expansion of executive power, and here you are doing much, much worse — the difference being, he’s trying to win a war, and you’re trying to lose one, for partisan political purposes and nothing more. From anyone else, such behavior would be difficult to comprehend; for you dregs, it’s just another day at the office.
And how dare you craven sh*tsuckers try to hide behind the flag as you sell our men and women in uniform down the river to protect your election prospects? How dare you claim to “support the troops,” or to have their best interests at heart, at the same time you’re busy planning how to cut them off at the knees, and in such a way as to avoid taking any responsibility for your naked breach of trust and honor? Where do you yellowbellied milksop pieces of sh*t get the balls to even propose such a lowdown, calculating, plain-old dirty sellout as this?
If each and every one of you had your empty heads sawed off by some screeching Islamofascist tomorrow, it’d be no more than you merit for your appalling treachery. You should be deeply, mortally ashamed of your worthless selves."
"You Democrats, with far too few exceptions, are a disgrace to the sacrifices made by our forefathers, and you have no business referring to yourselves as Americans. Since when is it the Congress’s mandate to run foreign policy, anyway? You bitch, piss, and moan all this time about Bush’s supposedly unscrupulous expansion of executive power, and here you are doing much, much worse — the difference being, he’s trying to win a war, and you’re trying to lose one, for partisan political purposes and nothing more. From anyone else, such behavior would be difficult to comprehend; for you dregs, it’s just another day at the office.
And how dare you craven sh*tsuckers try to hide behind the flag as you sell our men and women in uniform down the river to protect your election prospects? How dare you claim to “support the troops,” or to have their best interests at heart, at the same time you’re busy planning how to cut them off at the knees, and in such a way as to avoid taking any responsibility for your naked breach of trust and honor? Where do you yellowbellied milksop pieces of sh*t get the balls to even propose such a lowdown, calculating, plain-old dirty sellout as this?
If each and every one of you had your empty heads sawed off by some screeching Islamofascist tomorrow, it’d be no more than you merit for your appalling treachery. You should be deeply, mortally ashamed of your worthless selves."
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Hannibal Rising is a Big Disappointment
I went to see "Hannibal Rising" last night, and I have to say I was very disappointed. It reminds me of a couple of comedy specials and stand-up routines where I went in a fan of the stars therein and really wanting to laugh, but came out disappointed with few laughs to my name. I was a huge fan of the books and movies "The Silence of the Lambs", "Red Dragon", and "Hannibal", in that order. Before I went to see "Hannibal Rising", the critics were absolutely blasting this movie, and I wasn't encouraged. The only reason I went to see it is because I saw that Thomas Harris, the author of the series, was intimately involved in the movie. Unfortunately, that didn't help...the plot was disjointed, the pace of the movie herky-jerky, and I can't see how it even qualifies as a prequel to the other three books and films. The only redeeming qualities of the film were the strong acting debut of the young man who played Hannibal Lecter, the savage beauty of the Asian woman who took Lecter in after his family was murdered, and the creative brutality of some of the killing scenes. Other than that, let's just say I'm glad I went to a matinee and didn't waste the $8 to go see it.
Friday, February 16, 2007
The Good News, Courtesy of Mrs. DuToit
Anytime we as Americans get down about where we are, our circumstances, our lot in life, or the state of our country in general...always remember that there is Good News. Take it away, Mrs. DuToit.
"If you prefer your news to be alarming or negative, you can stop reading this now.
Today I sat at my desk after getting a cup of coffee from my electric coffee maker. The sugar and cream I used were clean and the electricity was running to power the coffee maker and the refrigerator.
Then I powered on my computer and it connected to the unregulated Internet. I was able to check my email, as I do every morning.
I settled in to begin my work, with my legally owned 9mm handgun by my side. Using the power of the Internet, I was able to connect to my office (in another state) using VPN technology.
During a brief break, I read something that concerned me about something Congress was doing (Congress, that was recently handed over to the opposition party, without a shot being fired), so I fired off a letter to the President of the United States, expressing my opinion on the subject.
Earlier in the morning, my husband got in our car (it started and it had fuel to keep it running) to drive (on paved roads and safe streets) our daughter to a community college where she is working toward an Associate of Arts degree. She was accepted in college by passing the Texas Standardized test and submitting her homeschooling transcript that I prepared, showing that she had a high school diploma, issued by me. She hopes to complete her AA degree and then go on to a four year school (without anticipating any difficulty with her getting accepted) so that she will be able to travel to Japan, on a airliner traveling through safe airspace, to teach English to Japanese people. It never occurred to her that she might not be admitted to college or able to do what she wanted to do because she is a girl.
My husband took pork chops out of our freezer (from pigs raised by a friend in another state) also still powered with electricity, so they could thaw during the day, while we continued our work. Work, that was freely chosen by both of us, in a combination of self- and full-employment.
During my lunch break I opened up Quicken and downloaded the latest balances from my safe and secure banks (protected by FDIC), also via the Internet, noting that my paycheck had been deposited by electronic transfer, on time, on schedule, and for the amount agreed upon between my employer and me.
Before I started work, I brushed my teeth using clean (disease free) tap water. I flushed a toilet and the water magically disappeared down the pipe to the city sewer, where it will be properly processed and cleaned for reuse.
As I normally do, I lit the natural gas fueled fireplace to warm the family room and the natural gas came through the pipe like it does every time I want to do this.
There were no terrorist attacks on American soil. Millions of law abiding citizens, some gun owners, some not, safely arrived at work or school, using other paved roads maintained by our road crews, and monitored by police and highway patrols. Some of those people on the roads said morning prayers, of a religion of their choosing, before they left for work, or stopped first at their place of worship.
Millions of other people in the United States brushed their teeth with clean water, just like I did, flushed toilets and had the dirty water disappear to end up at their local water treatment plants, and ate breakfasts of clean food, accompanied with hot beverages, powered by the steady electric power that fuels those coffee makers and tea kettles, that brings steady power to our homes, businesses, and streets.
When folks arrived at work or school the electricity that powered the lights and equipment in their offices was working, and they flipped the switches on the lights and equipment without any thought that the power might not be on.
Thousands of other people showed up at courtrooms, for criminal or civil matters, fully expecting justice to be served and to exercise their right to their day in court.
And in a place far, far away, thousands of American men and women, who volunteered, are working their best, risking their lives, so that others will someday be able to do all of this, too.
All in all, a typical day in America. We tend to forget and take for granted the miracle that is These United States. Remain diligent and vigilant, but notice the stuff we seldom notice, too."
"If you prefer your news to be alarming or negative, you can stop reading this now.
Today I sat at my desk after getting a cup of coffee from my electric coffee maker. The sugar and cream I used were clean and the electricity was running to power the coffee maker and the refrigerator.
Then I powered on my computer and it connected to the unregulated Internet. I was able to check my email, as I do every morning.
I settled in to begin my work, with my legally owned 9mm handgun by my side. Using the power of the Internet, I was able to connect to my office (in another state) using VPN technology.
During a brief break, I read something that concerned me about something Congress was doing (Congress, that was recently handed over to the opposition party, without a shot being fired), so I fired off a letter to the President of the United States, expressing my opinion on the subject.
Earlier in the morning, my husband got in our car (it started and it had fuel to keep it running) to drive (on paved roads and safe streets) our daughter to a community college where she is working toward an Associate of Arts degree. She was accepted in college by passing the Texas Standardized test and submitting her homeschooling transcript that I prepared, showing that she had a high school diploma, issued by me. She hopes to complete her AA degree and then go on to a four year school (without anticipating any difficulty with her getting accepted) so that she will be able to travel to Japan, on a airliner traveling through safe airspace, to teach English to Japanese people. It never occurred to her that she might not be admitted to college or able to do what she wanted to do because she is a girl.
My husband took pork chops out of our freezer (from pigs raised by a friend in another state) also still powered with electricity, so they could thaw during the day, while we continued our work. Work, that was freely chosen by both of us, in a combination of self- and full-employment.
During my lunch break I opened up Quicken and downloaded the latest balances from my safe and secure banks (protected by FDIC), also via the Internet, noting that my paycheck had been deposited by electronic transfer, on time, on schedule, and for the amount agreed upon between my employer and me.
Before I started work, I brushed my teeth using clean (disease free) tap water. I flushed a toilet and the water magically disappeared down the pipe to the city sewer, where it will be properly processed and cleaned for reuse.
As I normally do, I lit the natural gas fueled fireplace to warm the family room and the natural gas came through the pipe like it does every time I want to do this.
There were no terrorist attacks on American soil. Millions of law abiding citizens, some gun owners, some not, safely arrived at work or school, using other paved roads maintained by our road crews, and monitored by police and highway patrols. Some of those people on the roads said morning prayers, of a religion of their choosing, before they left for work, or stopped first at their place of worship.
Millions of other people in the United States brushed their teeth with clean water, just like I did, flushed toilets and had the dirty water disappear to end up at their local water treatment plants, and ate breakfasts of clean food, accompanied with hot beverages, powered by the steady electric power that fuels those coffee makers and tea kettles, that brings steady power to our homes, businesses, and streets.
When folks arrived at work or school the electricity that powered the lights and equipment in their offices was working, and they flipped the switches on the lights and equipment without any thought that the power might not be on.
Thousands of other people showed up at courtrooms, for criminal or civil matters, fully expecting justice to be served and to exercise their right to their day in court.
And in a place far, far away, thousands of American men and women, who volunteered, are working their best, risking their lives, so that others will someday be able to do all of this, too.
All in all, a typical day in America. We tend to forget and take for granted the miracle that is These United States. Remain diligent and vigilant, but notice the stuff we seldom notice, too."
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Let's Win This One
Emperor Misha goes on a righteous rant here, which has a definite language alert in effect. But hey, rough language is sometimes necessary, especially when defending rough and sometimes unpopular decision. I am with the Emperor on this one...either we should take the gloves off and beat these ululating savages into submission or death (whichever comes first), or we should let them fight out their centuries old religious grievances on their own and then deal with the "winner" of that struggle. I've excerpted his rant below, and all emphasis is mine, but do read it all.
"Why (should we win)? Because we’re in it, and that’s what we do. We don’t enter fights to lose them, we don’t enter fights to look for “an honorable way out”, we enter fights to win them, dammit, and it’s pissing me off royally to see some quarters claiming to be on our side looking for “peace with honor.”
There’s only ONE sort of “peace with honor”, and that’s the kind of peace where you’re the one dictating the conditions for it and the other side is on his knees asking you to please don’t shoot him in the face. Negotiated peace doesn’t count for squat. It only means that the other side will laugh at you and go back to rearm during the ceasefire, working towards kicking you in the nuts when you least expect it. Peace with honor is when your erstwhile opponent is crawling in the dust, begging you not to hurt him anymore and offering to lick the sweat off of your scrotum if only you’ll quit kicking him in the fuc*ing face. ...
Until we can get out of our Oprah-fied ideas about the subhuman slime we’re fighting being anything more than dirt, we’re fuc*ed. We didn’t pick this damn fight, it was thrown in our general direction, and it’s up to the ululating goat herders who were daft enough to pick it to say “uncle.” They could’ve just minded their own fuc*ing business and left us the fu*k alone and they wouldn’t be facing the monumental ass-kicking that these United States are capable of delivering to those dumb enough to ask for it. I don't feel the least bit sorry for them. ...
You think this nation was built on the back of people talking about compromise and agonizing endlessly about “rights” not being respected? I hate to fucking break it to you, but it wasn’t. I know you don’t like to hear it, but your comfortable lives in the suburbs with your nice houses and air conditioned SUVs wouldn’t even be possible if it hadn’t been for rough men making rough choices on your behalfs. But perhaps you’d like it better if you were still slogging it out from day to day in log cabins while trying to fend off the locals with front loaders? ...
As long as there’s somebody in this world who has something that somebody else wants, there’ll be wars. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s the truth, and the only way to keep that bastard from taking away what’s yours is to kick him in the fucking nuts until he loses interest in your possessions because the pain in his scrotum distracts him from chopping your empty head off. Deal with it, or do us all a favor by killing yourselves, because I sure as Hell am not going to join your suicide party."
"Why (should we win)? Because we’re in it, and that’s what we do. We don’t enter fights to lose them, we don’t enter fights to look for “an honorable way out”, we enter fights to win them, dammit, and it’s pissing me off royally to see some quarters claiming to be on our side looking for “peace with honor.”
There’s only ONE sort of “peace with honor”, and that’s the kind of peace where you’re the one dictating the conditions for it and the other side is on his knees asking you to please don’t shoot him in the face. Negotiated peace doesn’t count for squat. It only means that the other side will laugh at you and go back to rearm during the ceasefire, working towards kicking you in the nuts when you least expect it. Peace with honor is when your erstwhile opponent is crawling in the dust, begging you not to hurt him anymore and offering to lick the sweat off of your scrotum if only you’ll quit kicking him in the fuc*ing face. ...
Until we can get out of our Oprah-fied ideas about the subhuman slime we’re fighting being anything more than dirt, we’re fuc*ed. We didn’t pick this damn fight, it was thrown in our general direction, and it’s up to the ululating goat herders who were daft enough to pick it to say “uncle.” They could’ve just minded their own fuc*ing business and left us the fu*k alone and they wouldn’t be facing the monumental ass-kicking that these United States are capable of delivering to those dumb enough to ask for it. I don't feel the least bit sorry for them. ...
You think this nation was built on the back of people talking about compromise and agonizing endlessly about “rights” not being respected? I hate to fucking break it to you, but it wasn’t. I know you don’t like to hear it, but your comfortable lives in the suburbs with your nice houses and air conditioned SUVs wouldn’t even be possible if it hadn’t been for rough men making rough choices on your behalfs. But perhaps you’d like it better if you were still slogging it out from day to day in log cabins while trying to fend off the locals with front loaders? ...
As long as there’s somebody in this world who has something that somebody else wants, there’ll be wars. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s the truth, and the only way to keep that bastard from taking away what’s yours is to kick him in the fucking nuts until he loses interest in your possessions because the pain in his scrotum distracts him from chopping your empty head off. Deal with it, or do us all a favor by killing yourselves, because I sure as Hell am not going to join your suicide party."
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Of Course Giving Them Credit Cards Will Encourage Self-Deportation
Via the Wall St. Journal and Los Angeles Times, here are a pair of stories reporting that Bank of America will now provide credit cards to people it knows to be illegal immigrants, and that Wells Fargo (who already provides mortgages to illegals) is likely to follow suit.
Who else needs a credit card if they have no Social Security Number? Moreover, what on God's earth makes anyone think that giving someone here illegally access to a bank account and the U.S. banking system as a whole would cause a single illegal immigrant to leave? Providing illegal immigrants access to bank accounts embeds them more in society, not less. Worse yet, watch an American citizen try to walk into a bank and get a credit card or a mortgage without giving the bank their SSN and see how quickly they get laughed out the door. If the goal of immigration law is to discourage people from coming here illegally, then it should also be illegal for businesses to profit from affirmatively catering to people it knows or should reasonably suspect are here illegally.
Of course, I'm not sure what good it would to to have such a law (assuming there isn't one on the books already), because the laws we already have are so rarely enforced in a substantive way that having that kind of law wouldn't make any difference. It seems to me that the CEOs and head corporate officers of these companies could be criminally liable for conspiring to violate federal immigration laws and possibly some U.S. Treasury regulations, but unfortunately, even if they are, it will be a cold day in hell before they're ever arrested and prosecuted, much less told to stop what they're doing. Things like this still make me angry, but I'm far past the point of being surprised. The GOP wants cheap labor and the Democrats want generations of lower-class, government dependent votes, so no one is willing to worry about anything so quaint as the law anymore...except for a very few legislators (Reps. Tom Tancredo and Duncan Hunter, Sen. Jeff Sessions, and others who try in vain to point out the dangers of illegal immigration), a pox on them all.
Wall Street Journal (link unavailable due to pay site)
"Bank of America defends the program, saying it complies with U.S. banking and antiterrorism laws. Company executives say that the initiative isn't about politics, but rather about meeting the needs of an untapped group of potential customers.
'These people are coming here for quality of life, and they deserve somebody to give them a chance to achieve that quality of life,' says Brian Tuite, the bank's director of Latin America card operations and one of the architects of the program.
Critics say Bank of America is knowingly making a product available to people who are violating U.S. immigration law. 'They are clearly crossing the line; they are actually aiding and abetting people who broke the law,' says Ira Mehlman, a spokesman for the Federation for American Immigration Reform, a group that advocates a crackdown on illegal immigration."
L.A. Times
Bank of America said Tuesday that it was issuing credit cards to Spanish-speaking immigrants who may not have Social Security numbers, triggering complaints that the nation's largest retail bank is tacitly endorsing illegal immigration. The bank described the program as a pilot, limited for now to 51 branches in Los Angeles County, and said it could go national this year. The credit cards are not aimed specifically at illegal immigrants, a bank spokeswoman said, but instead people who lack solid credit histories. Even so, the bank was bombarded with angry phone calls. ...
On Capitol Hill, Rep. Tom Tancredo (R-Colo.) accused the lender of aiding terrorists, while the Department of Homeland Security worried that the program could be exploited by criminals.
"At face value the program seems to be problematic," said Russ Knocke, a department spokesman. "It seems to be lending itself to possibilities of perpetrating identity theft or creating more risk for money laundering."
"It helps to further embed illegal immigrants into American society," said Steven Camarota, research director for the Center for Immigration Studies in Washington, which backs stricter enforcement of immigration laws. "It makes amnesty a fait accompli."
Tancredo said he sent a letter to U.S. Atty. Gen. Alberto R. Gonzales and Department of Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff asking them to look into the program.
"I hope the administration will shut down this reckless and illegal program before Bank of America extends a line of credit to a potential terrorist," said Tancredo, a hard-line foe of illegal immigration."
Who else needs a credit card if they have no Social Security Number? Moreover, what on God's earth makes anyone think that giving someone here illegally access to a bank account and the U.S. banking system as a whole would cause a single illegal immigrant to leave? Providing illegal immigrants access to bank accounts embeds them more in society, not less. Worse yet, watch an American citizen try to walk into a bank and get a credit card or a mortgage without giving the bank their SSN and see how quickly they get laughed out the door. If the goal of immigration law is to discourage people from coming here illegally, then it should also be illegal for businesses to profit from affirmatively catering to people it knows or should reasonably suspect are here illegally.
Of course, I'm not sure what good it would to to have such a law (assuming there isn't one on the books already), because the laws we already have are so rarely enforced in a substantive way that having that kind of law wouldn't make any difference. It seems to me that the CEOs and head corporate officers of these companies could be criminally liable for conspiring to violate federal immigration laws and possibly some U.S. Treasury regulations, but unfortunately, even if they are, it will be a cold day in hell before they're ever arrested and prosecuted, much less told to stop what they're doing. Things like this still make me angry, but I'm far past the point of being surprised. The GOP wants cheap labor and the Democrats want generations of lower-class, government dependent votes, so no one is willing to worry about anything so quaint as the law anymore...except for a very few legislators (Reps. Tom Tancredo and Duncan Hunter, Sen. Jeff Sessions, and others who try in vain to point out the dangers of illegal immigration), a pox on them all.
Wall Street Journal (link unavailable due to pay site)
"Bank of America defends the program, saying it complies with U.S. banking and antiterrorism laws. Company executives say that the initiative isn't about politics, but rather about meeting the needs of an untapped group of potential customers.
'These people are coming here for quality of life, and they deserve somebody to give them a chance to achieve that quality of life,' says Brian Tuite, the bank's director of Latin America card operations and one of the architects of the program.
Critics say Bank of America is knowingly making a product available to people who are violating U.S. immigration law. 'They are clearly crossing the line; they are actually aiding and abetting people who broke the law,' says Ira Mehlman, a spokesman for the Federation for American Immigration Reform, a group that advocates a crackdown on illegal immigration."
L.A. Times
Bank of America said Tuesday that it was issuing credit cards to Spanish-speaking immigrants who may not have Social Security numbers, triggering complaints that the nation's largest retail bank is tacitly endorsing illegal immigration. The bank described the program as a pilot, limited for now to 51 branches in Los Angeles County, and said it could go national this year. The credit cards are not aimed specifically at illegal immigrants, a bank spokeswoman said, but instead people who lack solid credit histories. Even so, the bank was bombarded with angry phone calls. ...
On Capitol Hill, Rep. Tom Tancredo (R-Colo.) accused the lender of aiding terrorists, while the Department of Homeland Security worried that the program could be exploited by criminals.
"At face value the program seems to be problematic," said Russ Knocke, a department spokesman. "It seems to be lending itself to possibilities of perpetrating identity theft or creating more risk for money laundering."
"It helps to further embed illegal immigrants into American society," said Steven Camarota, research director for the Center for Immigration Studies in Washington, which backs stricter enforcement of immigration laws. "It makes amnesty a fait accompli."
Tancredo said he sent a letter to U.S. Atty. Gen. Alberto R. Gonzales and Department of Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff asking them to look into the program.
"I hope the administration will shut down this reckless and illegal program before Bank of America extends a line of credit to a potential terrorist," said Tancredo, a hard-line foe of illegal immigration."
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
How Can Senator McCain Be So Utterly Daft?
This Yahoo News Story quotes Senator John McCain (RINO-AZ) as "fearing a Tet-style offensive " in Iraq. I can't believe a Vietnam veteran would be so utterly clueless about a major reason we lost Vietnam and he suffered the torture he did in the first place...namely the negative, adverse, anti-American coverage from the borderline treasonous mainstream media of his day, led by Walter Cronkite. We weren't losing the Vietnam war on the battlefield...aside from the media coverage, we lost that war due to loss of political will. While Senator McCain at least isn't advocating withdrawal and abandonment, he shouldn't be so ignorant of history. The original Tet Offensive from Vietnam, while it did cause the loss of some American troops, it inflicted disastrous levels of battlefield casualties on the enemy. Frankly, we should pray that so many insurgents/terrorists in Iraq mass themselves for attack and present themselves for slaughter in one place at one time...but I doubt, in spite of Sen. McCain's ignorance that we will be so lucky.
"By the way, a lot of us are also very concerned about the possibility of a, quote, 'Tet Offensive.' You know, some large-scale tact that could then switch American public opinion the way that the Tet Offensive did," the Arizona senator said. ...
Tet, a massive invasion in 1968 of South Vietnam by Communist North Vietnamese, inflicted enormous losses on U.S. and South Vietnamese troops and is regarded as a point where public sentiment turned sharply against the war." (NOTE: Even today, the MSM refuses to acknowledge what a major military disaster Tet was for the Communist North Vietnamese regime...old bias dies hard.)
"By the way, a lot of us are also very concerned about the possibility of a, quote, 'Tet Offensive.' You know, some large-scale tact that could then switch American public opinion the way that the Tet Offensive did," the Arizona senator said. ...
Tet, a massive invasion in 1968 of South Vietnam by Communist North Vietnamese, inflicted enormous losses on U.S. and South Vietnamese troops and is regarded as a point where public sentiment turned sharply against the war." (NOTE: Even today, the MSM refuses to acknowledge what a major military disaster Tet was for the Communist North Vietnamese regime...old bias dies hard.)
Monday, February 12, 2007
Congressman Rohrabacher Nails It on Illegal Immigration and on Agents Compean and Ramos
Congressman Dana Rohrabacher (R-CA) expresses here the justifiable outrage of over 300,000 American citizens and over 75 members of Congress demanding a pardon for recently lynched Border Patrol Agents Compean and Ramos. Just read the whole disgusting story...everyone from U.S. Attorney Sutton to fellow Border Patrol agents who sold out these two fine officers to the President homself are responsible for and should be ashamed of this situation. Let's just hope a pardon or being free on appeal arrives for these two men before they're murdered in prison.
"The whole rotten episode turned justice on its head. The book was thrown at our heroes who protect us, while the drug smugglers got immunity. According to the U.S. attorney, Johnny Sutton, a Bush appointee and a longtime friend of the President, Ramos and Compean are not heroes. In fact, he considers those two officers to be criminals, charging them with assault with serious bodily injury, assault with a
deadly weapon, discharge of a firearm while committing a crime of violence, which carries, of course, a minimum mandatory sentence of 10 years, and a civil rights violation. ...
We found out today, for example, that the Department of Homeland Security lied to Congress trying to cover up for their lies to Congress. What happened is five Members of Congress were briefed. We will hear about this later on tonight from another Member of Congress. They were told that Compean had claimed he was going to go out and shoot a Mexican. Now, here is Compean, Jose Compean, right? These are
two Mexican-American, proud Hispanics, and they were going to go out and shoot a Mexican? This is just one from five or six areas that were just total lies given to Members of Congress looking into this. Then they were questioned, when the Department of Homeland Security investigators were questioned, they said, oh, yes, we have all of this proved in various reports, and so they were asked for them, those reports. Today it was just determined that for 4 months the Department of
Homeland Security has been lying to Members of Congress because those reports never existed. There was nothing to substantiate the charges, the horrendous charges that were made against Compean and Ramos. ...
Sutton claims that he had no choice but to prosecute the two Border Patrol agents because, according to Sutton, they broke the law when they violated these procedures concerning the discharge of their weapons at this fleeing suspect. No. Even if procedures were not followed, Sutton could have granted immunity to the law enforcement officers and thrown the book at the drug smuggler. That was his choice. He chose the side of the drug smuggler and threw the book at the Border Patrol agents. This was an indefensible decision, and now Sutton lies to us and to the American people, suggesting that he did not have a choice, that he had to prosecute. ...
Well, what we hear now is, well, you have got to just forget it because the jury has spoken. That is what Mr. Sutton and the prosecutor want to say. That is the end of it. That is the last word. Well, let's look at what the jury knew about and whether or not this was a fair trial. The drug dealer we are talking about, in between the time he was shot and all of this was going on, and Ramos and Compean
are waiting to be tried, he was caught again, this time with 1,000 pounds of marijuana that he was trying to smuggle into our country, but that information was kept from the jury. That information never made it to the jury.
Now, was that important for the jury to know? The prosecution told the judge that this would in some way jeopardize other prosecutions or investigations, so the jury was kept from that information. In fact, that information has been expunged from the record, so we can't get that information. But we know it happened. And they play word games with us to say, well, he really wasn't arrested, he was apprehended. No, this man was caught again with 1,000 pounds of drugs. Do you think the jury should have known that? Would that have been something important for the jury to know when they are deciding on the lives of these two brave Americans? Well, it is something that the jury never knew.
The jury also never knew that the drug dealer, after the bullet fragment was removed from his body, he was taken by an investigator, and the bullet was taken by the investigator and spent the night at the home of this agent. Well, let me tell you something. You don't take evidence and break the chain of custody of evidence. He took the bullet into his home, and he took this witness into his home. Any lawyer will tell you that this is the type of sloppiness that taints the evidence and disqualifies a prosecution.
It is also significant to mention that of those 12 jurors, three of them later submitted sworn affidavits alleging that they had been misled by the jury foreman into believing that, if the majority of people wanted to vote guilty, they had to also vote guilty, that a hung jury was not going to be allowed by the judge. They felt pressured to vote guilty, and they have since signed affidavits and made statements that they would have changed their vote. They believed these men to be
innocent, and some of them actually broke down in tears when they heard that they could have actually saved these men had they stuck to their guns. But they were told that the judge, these are not lawyers, these are simple people; they were told they had to go along with the majority. When the judge heard this, and the judge heard that there was evidence, he knew that this evidence had been kept from the jury, he, even after knowing this, denied the request that the two agents be permitted to stay out on bond until their appeal was made. ...
Well, the out-of-control flow of illegal immigrants is a nightmare to regular Americans, not this one group of elitists. But the policymakers here in Washington and their elite corporate interests are so arrogant and so smug that they do not care about the suffering of the American people. They don't care. These elites don't care that illegal immigrants are shutting down the emergency rooms so if your children in California have a car accident, they will die. They are overcrowding
our classrooms so our kids aren't getting the education they deserve. They are driving down wages, and our criminal justice system is breaking down in California. We have American citizens who are being victimized. They are being murdered and raped and robbed by criminal illegal immigrants every day, but these elitists don't care, and our President doesn't seem to care. The only heroes in this entire immigration mess, the only heroes are the thin green line of the Border Patrol, and the elites now have decided they have to brutally smash two of them in order to warn the others not to get in the way of their open border policy."
"The whole rotten episode turned justice on its head. The book was thrown at our heroes who protect us, while the drug smugglers got immunity. According to the U.S. attorney, Johnny Sutton, a Bush appointee and a longtime friend of the President, Ramos and Compean are not heroes. In fact, he considers those two officers to be criminals, charging them with assault with serious bodily injury, assault with a
deadly weapon, discharge of a firearm while committing a crime of violence, which carries, of course, a minimum mandatory sentence of 10 years, and a civil rights violation. ...
We found out today, for example, that the Department of Homeland Security lied to Congress trying to cover up for their lies to Congress. What happened is five Members of Congress were briefed. We will hear about this later on tonight from another Member of Congress. They were told that Compean had claimed he was going to go out and shoot a Mexican. Now, here is Compean, Jose Compean, right? These are
two Mexican-American, proud Hispanics, and they were going to go out and shoot a Mexican? This is just one from five or six areas that were just total lies given to Members of Congress looking into this. Then they were questioned, when the Department of Homeland Security investigators were questioned, they said, oh, yes, we have all of this proved in various reports, and so they were asked for them, those reports. Today it was just determined that for 4 months the Department of
Homeland Security has been lying to Members of Congress because those reports never existed. There was nothing to substantiate the charges, the horrendous charges that were made against Compean and Ramos. ...
Sutton claims that he had no choice but to prosecute the two Border Patrol agents because, according to Sutton, they broke the law when they violated these procedures concerning the discharge of their weapons at this fleeing suspect. No. Even if procedures were not followed, Sutton could have granted immunity to the law enforcement officers and thrown the book at the drug smuggler. That was his choice. He chose the side of the drug smuggler and threw the book at the Border Patrol agents. This was an indefensible decision, and now Sutton lies to us and to the American people, suggesting that he did not have a choice, that he had to prosecute. ...
Well, what we hear now is, well, you have got to just forget it because the jury has spoken. That is what Mr. Sutton and the prosecutor want to say. That is the end of it. That is the last word. Well, let's look at what the jury knew about and whether or not this was a fair trial. The drug dealer we are talking about, in between the time he was shot and all of this was going on, and Ramos and Compean
are waiting to be tried, he was caught again, this time with 1,000 pounds of marijuana that he was trying to smuggle into our country, but that information was kept from the jury. That information never made it to the jury.
Now, was that important for the jury to know? The prosecution told the judge that this would in some way jeopardize other prosecutions or investigations, so the jury was kept from that information. In fact, that information has been expunged from the record, so we can't get that information. But we know it happened. And they play word games with us to say, well, he really wasn't arrested, he was apprehended. No, this man was caught again with 1,000 pounds of drugs. Do you think the jury should have known that? Would that have been something important for the jury to know when they are deciding on the lives of these two brave Americans? Well, it is something that the jury never knew.
The jury also never knew that the drug dealer, after the bullet fragment was removed from his body, he was taken by an investigator, and the bullet was taken by the investigator and spent the night at the home of this agent. Well, let me tell you something. You don't take evidence and break the chain of custody of evidence. He took the bullet into his home, and he took this witness into his home. Any lawyer will tell you that this is the type of sloppiness that taints the evidence and disqualifies a prosecution.
It is also significant to mention that of those 12 jurors, three of them later submitted sworn affidavits alleging that they had been misled by the jury foreman into believing that, if the majority of people wanted to vote guilty, they had to also vote guilty, that a hung jury was not going to be allowed by the judge. They felt pressured to vote guilty, and they have since signed affidavits and made statements that they would have changed their vote. They believed these men to be
innocent, and some of them actually broke down in tears when they heard that they could have actually saved these men had they stuck to their guns. But they were told that the judge, these are not lawyers, these are simple people; they were told they had to go along with the majority. When the judge heard this, and the judge heard that there was evidence, he knew that this evidence had been kept from the jury, he, even after knowing this, denied the request that the two agents be permitted to stay out on bond until their appeal was made. ...
Well, the out-of-control flow of illegal immigrants is a nightmare to regular Americans, not this one group of elitists. But the policymakers here in Washington and their elite corporate interests are so arrogant and so smug that they do not care about the suffering of the American people. They don't care. These elites don't care that illegal immigrants are shutting down the emergency rooms so if your children in California have a car accident, they will die. They are overcrowding
our classrooms so our kids aren't getting the education they deserve. They are driving down wages, and our criminal justice system is breaking down in California. We have American citizens who are being victimized. They are being murdered and raped and robbed by criminal illegal immigrants every day, but these elitists don't care, and our President doesn't seem to care. The only heroes in this entire immigration mess, the only heroes are the thin green line of the Border Patrol, and the elites now have decided they have to brutally smash two of them in order to warn the others not to get in the way of their open border policy."
Sunday, February 11, 2007
A Time Comes...Then You "Stand"
(Originally posted 10/5/06)
I first ran across this somewhere online (all emphasis below is mine), thought it sounded great, and wanted to share. I believe that everyone who ever truly grows up has had to come to this place in life at least once, others more than once. So it is with me this day.
After an unexpected but very necessary conversation with one of my best friends, and keeping in mind the lyrics of "Stand", by Rascal Flatts (attached below), I have some things that must be done and conversations that must be had. I've spent so much of my life loving others and looking out for their needs that I've sometimes sold myself short. I am not a needy person and don't require a whole lot from others most of the time, but when it comes to love and matters of the heart, certain things just have to be present to make it work. I am not in a place of heartbreak or sadness really, it's more like a place where I am acknowledging reality as it is (not as I wish it would be) and stepping out in faith (even though this is scary). I've already talked with the Lord about this, all that remains now is to go do it and trust Him with the outcome.
A time comes in your life when you finally get it ... when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out ENOUGH!!! Enough fighting and crying or struggling to hold on. Like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes. This is your awakening.
You realize it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change...or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that you are neither Prince Charming or Cinderella, and that, in the real world, there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter), and that any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you. In the process, a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.
You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect, and that not everyone will always love, appreciate, or approve of who or what you are...and that's OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions.
You learn the importance of loving and championing yourself, and in the process a sense of new found confidence is born of self-approval. You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you), and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.
You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say, that not everyone will always be there for you, and that it's not always about you. So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself, and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance. You stop judging and pointing fingers and begin to accept people as they are, and start to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties. In the process, a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.
You realize that much of the way you view yourself, and the world around you, is as a result of all the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche. You begin to sift through all the junk you've been fed about how you should behave, how you should look, how much you should weigh, what you should wear, what you should do for a living, how much money you should make, what you should drive, how and where you should live, who you should marry, the importance of having and raising children, and what you owe your parents, family, and friends. You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. Then, you begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting and needing, and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with. You learn to go with your instincts. You learn that it is truly in giving that we receive, and that there is power and glory in creating and contributing. You stop maneuvering through life merely as a "consumer" looking for your next fix. You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era, but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.
You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world, and that you can't teach a pig to sing. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility, the importance of setting boundaries, and learning to say NO. You learn that the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry, and that martyrs get burned at the stake.
Then you learn about love...how to love, how much to give in love, when to stop giving, and when to walk away. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. You learn that alone does not mean lonely. You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs. You learn that feelings of entitlement are perfectly OK... that it is your right to want things and to ask for the things you want...and that sometimes it is necessary to make demands that come with a line in the sand. You come to the realization that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, sensitivity and respect and you won't settle for less.
You learn that your body really is your temple, and you begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drink more water, and take more time to exercise. You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. You figure out that just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul, so you take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you believe you deserve...and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different from working toward making it happen. More importantly, you learn that, in order to achieve success, you need direction, discipline and perseverance.
You also learn that no one can do it all alone...and that it's OK to risk asking for help. You learn the only thing you must truly fear is the greatest robber baron of all: FEAR itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens, you can handle it, and that to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms. You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.
You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. On these occasions you learn not to personalize things. You learn that God isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers...it's just life happening. You learn to deal with evil in its most primal state - the ego. You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy, and resentment must be understood and redirected, or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower. Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself, and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than your heart's desire. Then, you hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind. You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.
Finally, with courage in your heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best you can.
"Stand", by Rascal Flatts
You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless like you’ve lost your fight
But you’ll be alright, you’ll be alright
Chorus
Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you’re made of
You might bend ‘til you break
Cause it’s all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you’ve had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands, shake it off
Then you stand, then you stand
Life’s like a novel with the end ripped out
The edge of canyon with only one way down
Take what you’re given before it’s gone
And start holdin’ on, keep holdin’ on
Repeat Chorus
Every time you get up and get back in the race
One more small piece of you starts to fall into place – yeah
Repeat Chorus
Yeah, then you stand – yeah
Yeah, Baby
I first ran across this somewhere online (all emphasis below is mine), thought it sounded great, and wanted to share. I believe that everyone who ever truly grows up has had to come to this place in life at least once, others more than once. So it is with me this day.
After an unexpected but very necessary conversation with one of my best friends, and keeping in mind the lyrics of "Stand", by Rascal Flatts (attached below), I have some things that must be done and conversations that must be had. I've spent so much of my life loving others and looking out for their needs that I've sometimes sold myself short. I am not a needy person and don't require a whole lot from others most of the time, but when it comes to love and matters of the heart, certain things just have to be present to make it work. I am not in a place of heartbreak or sadness really, it's more like a place where I am acknowledging reality as it is (not as I wish it would be) and stepping out in faith (even though this is scary). I've already talked with the Lord about this, all that remains now is to go do it and trust Him with the outcome.
A time comes in your life when you finally get it ... when, in the midst of all your fears and insanity, you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out ENOUGH!!! Enough fighting and crying or struggling to hold on. Like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and begin to look at the world through new eyes. This is your awakening.
You realize it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change...or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that you are neither Prince Charming or Cinderella, and that, in the real world, there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter), and that any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you. In the process, a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.
You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect, and that not everyone will always love, appreciate, or approve of who or what you are...and that's OK. They are entitled to their own views and opinions.
You learn the importance of loving and championing yourself, and in the process a sense of new found confidence is born of self-approval. You stop complaining and blaming other people for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you), and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected.
You learn that people don't always say what they mean or mean what they say, that not everyone will always be there for you, and that it's not always about you. So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself, and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance. You stop judging and pointing fingers and begin to accept people as they are, and start to overlook their shortcomings and human frailties. In the process, a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.
You realize that much of the way you view yourself, and the world around you, is as a result of all the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche. You begin to sift through all the junk you've been fed about how you should behave, how you should look, how much you should weigh, what you should wear, what you should do for a living, how much money you should make, what you should drive, how and where you should live, who you should marry, the importance of having and raising children, and what you owe your parents, family, and friends. You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. Then, you begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for.
You learn the difference between wanting and needing, and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with. You learn to go with your instincts. You learn that it is truly in giving that we receive, and that there is power and glory in creating and contributing. You stop maneuvering through life merely as a "consumer" looking for your next fix. You learn that principles such as honesty and integrity are not the outdated ideals of a bygone era, but the mortar that holds together the foundation upon which you must build a life.
You learn that you don't know everything, it's not your job to save the world, and that you can't teach a pig to sing. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility, the importance of setting boundaries, and learning to say NO. You learn that the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry, and that martyrs get burned at the stake.
Then you learn about love...how to love, how much to give in love, when to stop giving, and when to walk away. You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You stop trying to control people, situations and outcomes. You learn that alone does not mean lonely. You also stop working so hard at putting your feelings aside, smoothing things over and ignoring your needs. You learn that feelings of entitlement are perfectly OK... that it is your right to want things and to ask for the things you want...and that sometimes it is necessary to make demands that come with a line in the sand. You come to the realization that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, sensitivity and respect and you won't settle for less.
You learn that your body really is your temple, and you begin to care for it and treat it with respect. You begin to eat a balanced diet, drink more water, and take more time to exercise. You learn that being tired fuels doubt, fear, and uncertainty and so you take more time to rest. You figure out that just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul, so you take more time to laugh and to play.
You learn that, for the most part, you get in life what you believe you deserve...and that much of life truly is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for and that wishing for something to happen is different from working toward making it happen. More importantly, you learn that, in order to achieve success, you need direction, discipline and perseverance.
You also learn that no one can do it all alone...and that it's OK to risk asking for help. You learn the only thing you must truly fear is the greatest robber baron of all: FEAR itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears because you know that whatever happens, you can handle it, and that to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your own terms. You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom.
You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. On these occasions you learn not to personalize things. You learn that God isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers...it's just life happening. You learn to deal with evil in its most primal state - the ego. You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy, and resentment must be understood and redirected, or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.
You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about: a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower. Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself by yourself, and you make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never, ever settle for less than your heart's desire. Then, you hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind. You make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.
Finally, with courage in your heart, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best you can.
"Stand", by Rascal Flatts
You feel like a candle in a hurricane
Just like a picture with a broken frame
Alone and helpless like you’ve lost your fight
But you’ll be alright, you’ll be alright
Chorus
Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you’re made of
You might bend ‘til you break
Cause it’s all you can take
On your knees you look up
Decide you’ve had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands, shake it off
Then you stand, then you stand
Life’s like a novel with the end ripped out
The edge of canyon with only one way down
Take what you’re given before it’s gone
And start holdin’ on, keep holdin’ on
Repeat Chorus
Every time you get up and get back in the race
One more small piece of you starts to fall into place – yeah
Repeat Chorus
Yeah, then you stand – yeah
Yeah, Baby
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Another Chapter in the Descent of Fwance Into Dhimmitude
I am sure everyone remembers the French riots by "youths" of indeterminate ethnic and religious origin *cough, Muslims, cough* from last year. The riots were partly inspired by the death of two Muslim teenagers. To recap, these young men were suspected of a crime and were being pursued by police...meaning they were guilty of, at a minimum, the French version of evading arrest. In their attempts to avoid apprehension, they hid in a power station and got their dumb arses electrocuted. No harm, no foul, two less thugs and jihadists in training to deal with...right? Well, not so much, since the Fwench have decided to treat the police officers like President Bush and his band of open-borders zealots have treated the Border Patrol in America.
Now the policemen are facing charges of "non-assistance to people in danger", whatever the hell that means. That must be in the same dictionary that spells out exactly what "civil rights" an illegal immigrant might possess. From Robert Spencer , we get the news story, and from Emperor Misha, we get some fine commentary on the sad and pathetic nature of the situation. Those "youths" have no one to blame for their deaths but themselves (since they were the ones that decided to run into a power station), and the perpetually aggrieved "Religion of Peace" can stick it in their ear if they think otherwise. The Islamofascist crocodile will almost certainly devour Europe first because of things like this. Their descent into full-fledged dhimmitude will come upon them all at once, and while I will pity their suffering, they will have no one to blame for it but themselves.
Now the policemen are facing charges of "non-assistance to people in danger", whatever the hell that means. That must be in the same dictionary that spells out exactly what "civil rights" an illegal immigrant might possess. From Robert Spencer , we get the news story, and from Emperor Misha, we get some fine commentary on the sad and pathetic nature of the situation. Those "youths" have no one to blame for their deaths but themselves (since they were the ones that decided to run into a power station), and the perpetually aggrieved "Religion of Peace" can stick it in their ear if they think otherwise. The Islamofascist crocodile will almost certainly devour Europe first because of things like this. Their descent into full-fledged dhimmitude will come upon them all at once, and while I will pity their suffering, they will have no one to blame for it but themselves.
Friday, February 9, 2007
To Hell With Being a Last Option or Anything of the Sort
In my dating life, I used to keep people around that I went out with if they were nice, had no major flaws, were good people, etc. This did not work, and it caused more problems than it was worth, mostly because it drained my time, attention, and resources away from other more worthy and compatible candidates (present or potential). So, I changed course. Unless the woman was someone I could be friends with in a clearly defined role as such and both of us were cool with that, I simply had to go my separate ways from that person. While it has led to a few more lonely social nights than I might otherwise prefer, the benefits far outweigh the downside.
One of my friends recently said that we should not make someone a priority if they are willing to make us only an option, and I think she is right. I think if I am seeing someone, I should definitely have first priority in terms of time and scheduling (work, school, and other obligations notwithstanding). With someone who may have potential as a romantic interest, while I may not be entitled to first priority status, I am damn sure not going to settle for being someone's last option...someone to be picked up and put down on a whim, to be used as leverage to get they guy they really want, to be someone to talk to or hang out with only when it is convenient, and/or because they are bored and bereft of other options. I am a better man and friend than that, and I refuse to allow myself to be demeaned and insulted in such a way.
Maybe I am selfish or severely overvaluing the worth and fun of my company, but I simply think that the people you care about and who profess to care about you should want to spend time with you. I have said this many times before and it bears repeating, "Anyone who says they don't have two minutes to pick up the phone or shoot you an e-mail or an hour to sit down and share a meal is either lying, doesn't care, or is some combination of both." As another friend of mine once said, "I'm not even angry, it's just made me sad and now I don't care anymore."
Actions definitely speak louder than words, and it's high time for certain people to back up what they say or just stop talking.
One of my friends recently said that we should not make someone a priority if they are willing to make us only an option, and I think she is right. I think if I am seeing someone, I should definitely have first priority in terms of time and scheduling (work, school, and other obligations notwithstanding). With someone who may have potential as a romantic interest, while I may not be entitled to first priority status, I am damn sure not going to settle for being someone's last option...someone to be picked up and put down on a whim, to be used as leverage to get they guy they really want, to be someone to talk to or hang out with only when it is convenient, and/or because they are bored and bereft of other options. I am a better man and friend than that, and I refuse to allow myself to be demeaned and insulted in such a way.
Maybe I am selfish or severely overvaluing the worth and fun of my company, but I simply think that the people you care about and who profess to care about you should want to spend time with you. I have said this many times before and it bears repeating, "Anyone who says they don't have two minutes to pick up the phone or shoot you an e-mail or an hour to sit down and share a meal is either lying, doesn't care, or is some combination of both." As another friend of mine once said, "I'm not even angry, it's just made me sad and now I don't care anymore."
Actions definitely speak louder than words, and it's high time for certain people to back up what they say or just stop talking.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
First They're Railroaded, Now They're Assaulted in Prison...What's Next, Murder?
Congressman Tom Tancredo, long the canary in the coal mine when it comes to the dangers America faces thanks to lax enforcement of immigration laws, expresses outrage at the fate of railroaded Border Patrol Agent Ignacio Ramos. Ramos was originally segregated from the general prison population for his own safety, due to his former status as a law enforcement officer and the fact that a solid percentage of the inmates in America's prison are illegal immigrant criminals...the very people he was charged with stoppong and apprehending. There's no way these men should be in prison in the first place, or at a minimum, free on bond pending their appeal in an attempt to undo the injustice perpetrated upon them, especially in light of their many years of service to our country.
"The U.S. Attorney who prosecuted the pair built his case on the agents' alleged failure to report the incident to their supervisors. Documents recently obtained from the Department of Homeland Security show that the agents did, in fact, verbally report the incident to their immediate supervisor, who ordered them not to file a written report. As many as a half-dozen witnesses have reportedly confirmed that account, potentially undermining the prosecution's key claim against the agents. Tancredo, who has joined a group of lawmakers demanding a presidential pardon for the two men, says the new information should clear the two agents. "We find out that some of the allegation that were brought against these guys have absolutely no basis in fact and there is no information to substantiate tham," Tancredo said. "There is much more here than meets the eye and it makes me sick."
Tancredo is in disbelief that federal officials did not protect Ramos from the general population of inmates at the Yazoo City Federal Penitentiary in Mississippi. Ramos was severely beaten by prisoners in the dormitory-style housing area. "They should know that anybody who is an agent, either a police officer or federal agent, is going to be in grave danger," Tancredo said. "I have heard from his wife [that] he's bleeding from the ear [and] he's lost some ability to move his left arm."
"The U.S. Attorney who prosecuted the pair built his case on the agents' alleged failure to report the incident to their supervisors. Documents recently obtained from the Department of Homeland Security show that the agents did, in fact, verbally report the incident to their immediate supervisor, who ordered them not to file a written report. As many as a half-dozen witnesses have reportedly confirmed that account, potentially undermining the prosecution's key claim against the agents. Tancredo, who has joined a group of lawmakers demanding a presidential pardon for the two men, says the new information should clear the two agents. "We find out that some of the allegation that were brought against these guys have absolutely no basis in fact and there is no information to substantiate tham," Tancredo said. "There is much more here than meets the eye and it makes me sick."
Tancredo is in disbelief that federal officials did not protect Ramos from the general population of inmates at the Yazoo City Federal Penitentiary in Mississippi. Ramos was severely beaten by prisoners in the dormitory-style housing area. "They should know that anybody who is an agent, either a police officer or federal agent, is going to be in grave danger," Tancredo said. "I have heard from his wife [that] he's bleeding from the ear [and] he's lost some ability to move his left arm."
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Let the Sunshine In on the Tennessee Legislature
From Bill Hobbs, we learn that a pair of Tennessee Republican legislators have filed a bill that would provide Tennessee residents a statute similar to the federal Freedom of Information Act, also known as FOIA. As with the federal statute, subject to certain exceptions, this proposed law would subject the Tennessee legislature to the same Open Records requirements currently in place for the federal government and its agencies and certain state agencies. This is a long overdue bill that needs to pass, and a loophole that, if filled, would go a long way toward shining some badly needed sunlight into the sometimes dirty back rooms, nooks, and crannies of Tennessee state government (think Tennessee Waltz, the state trooper scandal, etc.)
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Soft People, Hard People, by Selwyn Duke
From author and journalist Selwyn Duke, we get a fantastic addition to the chapter of American history re: the pansification and pussification of this country. I'll just say this...my moral apprehensions re: certain things (racial and ethnic profiling, pre-emptive warfare, mass deportation of illegal immigrants) end WELL before millions of Americans perish in a nuclear inferno or a cloud of poison. There's so much good stuff in there, just read the whole thing...all emphasis is mine.
"I think about our unwillingness to discipline our children, something to which our jungle-like schools bear witness. And should someone use punitive measures harsher than the euphemistically named "time-out" - something that may actually work - he is often excoriated for damaging the little darlings' "self-esteem." And a spanking? Perish the thought. We're told this could scar a child irreparably (although we seldom ponder the ravages of pickling a young brain with Ritalin), and the idea is so foreign to many parents they cannot even conceive of placing a hand on their cherubim's sanctified little posteriors.
In contrast, the people of the Third World - and especially the Muslim fanatics who have designs on the West - are hard as stone. We fret over the fact that Saddam Hussein endured some taunts during his execution, while next door in Saudi Arabia they may still chop off the hand of a thief. We cater to the religious wants of incarcerated terrorists, providing everything from the Koran and prayer rugs to desired foods, and the soft set still laments the terrible privation these poor victims must endure. In contrast, the terrorists' Muslim brethren often disallow the practice of other religions in the Abode of Islam. We let illegal aliens run roughshod over our nation, sometimes bestowing government benefits upon them, then still feel guilty about not exalting them sufficiently. In the Third World, however, foreigners are often treated like second-class citizens. Under the Mexican Constitution, one foreign-born will never enjoy the full rights of citizenship. In many Muslim societies, a certain kind of second-class status is reserved for "infidels"; it's called dhimmitude.
All this is not surprising. After all, luxury and living high soften the sinews and, regrettably, sometimes also the head. The hand that spends its entire existence inside a velvet glove will remain soft and delicate. The one wielding workmen's tools dawn till dusk becomes calloused and hard, more able to inflict injury and more resistant to it.
I know, I know what's coming. That's what makes us better than the nations in question, proclaim some, allowing themselves a rare foray into the realm of cultural superiority (what ever happened to the notion that all cultures are morally equal?). As for me, I'm not awash in moral relativism, but neither do I fall victim to blind cultural chauvinism. For, anyone who believes we have a monopoly on virtue is living in a fantasy-world of smug self-delusion. Don't get me wrong, we are better in some very significant ways, but also worse in a few ominous ones. We lack certain manly virtues, qualities on which national survival may hinge.
There is an immutable truth of human nature: When soft people clash with hard people, the soft are vanquished. That is, unless they become hard.
People may laugh. That's crazy, say they, we have the greatest military in the world, the most advanced technology, and a nuclear umbrella. Yes, that's true. But first, I don't claim we'll fall tomorrow, next month, or next year. Even more significantly, though, external enemies would not initiate our undoing. The fact is that no body, no matter how strong, imposing and well-armored, can survive an untreated disease metastasizing rapidly within. The smallest bacteria can kill giants as easily as dwarves.
And that is what ails us. Every time an action designed to preserve western civilization is taken or even proposed, a great internecine battle ensues. We capture combatants on the battlefield and then spend millions in legal fees debating whether to adjudicate their cases in civil or military courts. We rightly scrutinize Imams making a scene at an airport and then spend millions more arguing about so-called "racial profiling." And it's incessant. Every act nowadays, from singling out illegals for deportation and the suspicious for scrutiny to getting swatted by "Tigger" to a six-year-old boy giving a girl a peck on the cheek, is met with hand-wringing and a disproportionate reaction. And far too often litigation results, costing us valuable resources.
And let's be very clear: Every dollar in currency and passion we spend on litigation is one less we have to fight those who would see us in ashes. This means fewer resources - in terms of not just money but also attention and zeal - to secure our borders, ensure domestic tranquility and root out terrorists within and without. A united people would confront threats as a monolithic front; we are expending ourselves fighting a cold civil war. And the end result is that the lawyers get richer, we get weaker, and the hard people, waiting and watching in the darkness, laugh louder.
Lest I be misunderstood, I don't suggest we become the Hunnish Empire. It's noble to recognize that Saddam Hussein's tormentors might have demonstrated more dignity. It's a sign of civilization to expect our troops to behave as professional soldiers, not rampaging warriors. And it's most divine to realize all God's children are valuable in His eyes. But to the excesses of justice, correction or interrogation, we react not with measured admonition but with hysteria. Our civility should be the fruits of manly virtue, but it's the putrescence of pusillanimity.
And here I think of Chesterton's profound description of our condition:
"Nowadays, we have Christian values floating around detached from one another. Consequently, we see scientists who care only about truth but have no pity, and humanitarians who care only about pity but have no truth."
The Muslim world is one extreme, we are the other, the humanitarians who have no truth. Why can't we control seven-year-olds, prosecute a war efficiently or strike fear into the hearts of criminals? It's all for the same reason. We're soft-headed pseudo-humanitarians to whom the kind of action or punishment necessary to deter evil behavior seems medieval. This is why we had a national conniption when teenage vandal Michael Faye was to receive a typical Singaporean punishment, caning, for his misdeeds. We should bear in mind that you can walk Singapore's streets safely in the dark of night. The same cannot be said of ours. Oh, this is just the price of freedom, some say? They are wrong. This is the price of abused freedom.
You may think I'm missing the boat, that the problem lies not with the weak but with the malicious, those who are the enemy within. And, of course, but for their meddlesome hands, we wouldn't be at this precipice. But a minority tyrannizes only at the deference of the majority. For instance, if enough of us rejected the media that disseminated footage of Abu Ghraib far and wide while refusing to show Muslim beheadings, we'd not have reporters who were more internationalist than nationalist.
And a juxtaposition of Abu Ghraib and Muslim beheadings tells the tale, as too many of us are epitomized by panties while our adversaries are by swords. While they bat nary an eye at the torture of an innocent, we eat ourselves alive over the humiliation of the guilty. But what is truly humiliating is when the hard people laugh, watching the soft people play the fools, bray at one another, and commit cultural suicide.
And make no mistake, they laugh. Why do you think the Mexican government distributed literature instructing its citizens on how to best violate our southern border? Why did Islamists issue advice on how to play the victim card in the American legal system? They don't tolerate such under their dominion, but they know about our lawsuits, protests, pandering politicians and capitulating clergy. They know the game. They know us. And they don't really think we're barbaric or unjust.
They think we're weak and stupid.
Soft people and hard people, two sides of the same world. Of course, we were harder too, a long, long, long time ago. But it would be nice to find that happy medium, something that seems ever elusive. A bane of man is that he jumps from blind prejudice to blind tolerance and back again, without ever making a stopover at the ethereal land known as enlightened distinction.
Will we find it within ourselves to strike that balance? That is doubtful. But what is fairly certain is that we won't much longer have the luxury of being a soft republic. With enemies on both sides of the gate, it's only a matter of time before we see a 9/11 that is not a 9/11, but 9/11 squared. Thus, to use a play on Otto Von Bismarck's metaphor, we can proceed with a velvet glove, but within must lie an iron fist. We have no other choice. Unless, that is, we fancy death a viable option."
"I think about our unwillingness to discipline our children, something to which our jungle-like schools bear witness. And should someone use punitive measures harsher than the euphemistically named "time-out" - something that may actually work - he is often excoriated for damaging the little darlings' "self-esteem." And a spanking? Perish the thought. We're told this could scar a child irreparably (although we seldom ponder the ravages of pickling a young brain with Ritalin), and the idea is so foreign to many parents they cannot even conceive of placing a hand on their cherubim's sanctified little posteriors.
In contrast, the people of the Third World - and especially the Muslim fanatics who have designs on the West - are hard as stone. We fret over the fact that Saddam Hussein endured some taunts during his execution, while next door in Saudi Arabia they may still chop off the hand of a thief. We cater to the religious wants of incarcerated terrorists, providing everything from the Koran and prayer rugs to desired foods, and the soft set still laments the terrible privation these poor victims must endure. In contrast, the terrorists' Muslim brethren often disallow the practice of other religions in the Abode of Islam. We let illegal aliens run roughshod over our nation, sometimes bestowing government benefits upon them, then still feel guilty about not exalting them sufficiently. In the Third World, however, foreigners are often treated like second-class citizens. Under the Mexican Constitution, one foreign-born will never enjoy the full rights of citizenship. In many Muslim societies, a certain kind of second-class status is reserved for "infidels"; it's called dhimmitude.
All this is not surprising. After all, luxury and living high soften the sinews and, regrettably, sometimes also the head. The hand that spends its entire existence inside a velvet glove will remain soft and delicate. The one wielding workmen's tools dawn till dusk becomes calloused and hard, more able to inflict injury and more resistant to it.
I know, I know what's coming. That's what makes us better than the nations in question, proclaim some, allowing themselves a rare foray into the realm of cultural superiority (what ever happened to the notion that all cultures are morally equal?). As for me, I'm not awash in moral relativism, but neither do I fall victim to blind cultural chauvinism. For, anyone who believes we have a monopoly on virtue is living in a fantasy-world of smug self-delusion. Don't get me wrong, we are better in some very significant ways, but also worse in a few ominous ones. We lack certain manly virtues, qualities on which national survival may hinge.
There is an immutable truth of human nature: When soft people clash with hard people, the soft are vanquished. That is, unless they become hard.
People may laugh. That's crazy, say they, we have the greatest military in the world, the most advanced technology, and a nuclear umbrella. Yes, that's true. But first, I don't claim we'll fall tomorrow, next month, or next year. Even more significantly, though, external enemies would not initiate our undoing. The fact is that no body, no matter how strong, imposing and well-armored, can survive an untreated disease metastasizing rapidly within. The smallest bacteria can kill giants as easily as dwarves.
And that is what ails us. Every time an action designed to preserve western civilization is taken or even proposed, a great internecine battle ensues. We capture combatants on the battlefield and then spend millions in legal fees debating whether to adjudicate their cases in civil or military courts. We rightly scrutinize Imams making a scene at an airport and then spend millions more arguing about so-called "racial profiling." And it's incessant. Every act nowadays, from singling out illegals for deportation and the suspicious for scrutiny to getting swatted by "Tigger" to a six-year-old boy giving a girl a peck on the cheek, is met with hand-wringing and a disproportionate reaction. And far too often litigation results, costing us valuable resources.
And let's be very clear: Every dollar in currency and passion we spend on litigation is one less we have to fight those who would see us in ashes. This means fewer resources - in terms of not just money but also attention and zeal - to secure our borders, ensure domestic tranquility and root out terrorists within and without. A united people would confront threats as a monolithic front; we are expending ourselves fighting a cold civil war. And the end result is that the lawyers get richer, we get weaker, and the hard people, waiting and watching in the darkness, laugh louder.
Lest I be misunderstood, I don't suggest we become the Hunnish Empire. It's noble to recognize that Saddam Hussein's tormentors might have demonstrated more dignity. It's a sign of civilization to expect our troops to behave as professional soldiers, not rampaging warriors. And it's most divine to realize all God's children are valuable in His eyes. But to the excesses of justice, correction or interrogation, we react not with measured admonition but with hysteria. Our civility should be the fruits of manly virtue, but it's the putrescence of pusillanimity.
And here I think of Chesterton's profound description of our condition:
"Nowadays, we have Christian values floating around detached from one another. Consequently, we see scientists who care only about truth but have no pity, and humanitarians who care only about pity but have no truth."
The Muslim world is one extreme, we are the other, the humanitarians who have no truth. Why can't we control seven-year-olds, prosecute a war efficiently or strike fear into the hearts of criminals? It's all for the same reason. We're soft-headed pseudo-humanitarians to whom the kind of action or punishment necessary to deter evil behavior seems medieval. This is why we had a national conniption when teenage vandal Michael Faye was to receive a typical Singaporean punishment, caning, for his misdeeds. We should bear in mind that you can walk Singapore's streets safely in the dark of night. The same cannot be said of ours. Oh, this is just the price of freedom, some say? They are wrong. This is the price of abused freedom.
You may think I'm missing the boat, that the problem lies not with the weak but with the malicious, those who are the enemy within. And, of course, but for their meddlesome hands, we wouldn't be at this precipice. But a minority tyrannizes only at the deference of the majority. For instance, if enough of us rejected the media that disseminated footage of Abu Ghraib far and wide while refusing to show Muslim beheadings, we'd not have reporters who were more internationalist than nationalist.
And a juxtaposition of Abu Ghraib and Muslim beheadings tells the tale, as too many of us are epitomized by panties while our adversaries are by swords. While they bat nary an eye at the torture of an innocent, we eat ourselves alive over the humiliation of the guilty. But what is truly humiliating is when the hard people laugh, watching the soft people play the fools, bray at one another, and commit cultural suicide.
And make no mistake, they laugh. Why do you think the Mexican government distributed literature instructing its citizens on how to best violate our southern border? Why did Islamists issue advice on how to play the victim card in the American legal system? They don't tolerate such under their dominion, but they know about our lawsuits, protests, pandering politicians and capitulating clergy. They know the game. They know us. And they don't really think we're barbaric or unjust.
They think we're weak and stupid.
Soft people and hard people, two sides of the same world. Of course, we were harder too, a long, long, long time ago. But it would be nice to find that happy medium, something that seems ever elusive. A bane of man is that he jumps from blind prejudice to blind tolerance and back again, without ever making a stopover at the ethereal land known as enlightened distinction.
Will we find it within ourselves to strike that balance? That is doubtful. But what is fairly certain is that we won't much longer have the luxury of being a soft republic. With enemies on both sides of the gate, it's only a matter of time before we see a 9/11 that is not a 9/11, but 9/11 squared. Thus, to use a play on Otto Von Bismarck's metaphor, we can proceed with a velvet glove, but within must lie an iron fist. We have no other choice. Unless, that is, we fancy death a viable option."
Monday, February 5, 2007
Checkers, Chess, and Faith...An Object Lesson
I can't really put my finger on what exactly triggers revelations in my mind where things that maybe made no sense or only partial sense before become clear. It can be anything really, sometimes it's just the amalgam of life, the sum total of my experiences adding up to create something more. In this case, it was watching "Remember the Titans" for what seems like the 10th time this year. It's on cable all the time, and I like the football part of the story, but it's really more about life, how fragile it is, and how everything is connected.
In the movie, Coach Herman Boone (Denzel Washington) comes into a newly segregated school to be head coach of the football team, replacing a very popular and successful white coach in the process. In Virginia, at the height of the civil rights movement, this definitely ruffled some feathers. The principal then informs Coach Boone right before the season starts that if he loses one game, he is fired and the white coach is back in. Here's where my analogy comes in.
I've heard it said before, used as a perjorative slam of an expression to insult someone's depth and intellect, that "I play chess and you're playing checkers." (I think Denzel Washington said that in "Training Day".) The theory behind that statement is that the person you say that to has no vision, and they have only the ability or willingness to see and deal with what is directly in front of them, the impact and consequences of those decisions on other things down the line be damned.
Such a high pressure situation could have certainly led Coach Boone to play checkers, to only deal with the most immediate goal in front of him...to keep winning at all costs. His genius lay not only in the checkers-type focus, the simplicity and execution of his play calling (the team only ran about 6-10 plays on offense), but also in his ability to anticipate potential problems, to see three moves ahead, and to have solutions ready that would be helpful both in the short-term and in the long run.
For example, he could have been a puppet and let the white coaches run the team with him as a figurehead, but realized that would do nothing to advance the ideals of equality behind integration, and also that it would lead to confusion, discord, and maybe mutiny among the players along racial lines. Or, when the white team captain laid down an ultimatum, demanding that he reserve half the offense and all the defense for white players, he could have caved to that demand if he thought it would lead to wins. But again, it went against the principles of equality and would have actually worked contrary to the team and personal goal of winning by keeping other more skilled black players out of the game.
What does all this mean? To me, it meant that he could not have survived and succeeded without a mixture of these things: the focus on the present required to win at checkers, the vision of a chess master to see how decision A might impact decision B and decision F down the road, and a healthy dose of faith.
There's a particularly poignant scene near the end where he is alone with his wife, questioning himself, whether he pushed the players too hard, whether he is doing the right thing. This is the vulnerability every man has but few will admit to having. Her answer was, "Life is just hard sometimes. Gary (his star white linebacker) had an accident, that's not your fault." In the end, he stood his ground, got a few breaks, and things worked out great, but there was a substantial possibility of things turning out disastrously.
Even with the focus of a checkers player and the vision of a chess master, he had to have faith that doing the things he stood for would produce the desired results. I'm sure that wasn't easy in the face of virulent protests, thinly veiled racism, and even attacks against him and his family. Want more possible landmines? ...the players of opposite races could have refused to bond and play as a team no matter what...his white defensive coordinator/assistant head coach could have heeded the calls of the white parents and sat out all of the white players in protest...that same coach could have simply done nothing and allowed the white officials to sabotage a game with too many penalties, causing the team to lose, him to be elevated to coach, and Coach Boone being fired (instead, he told the officials to call it straight or go to jail)
The point is that any one of a hundred breaks could have gone against him at the wrong time and brought it all crashing down. Life is an exquisite tapestry of events, woven together by faith and destiny...it's like the old choose your own ending novels, where if you chose Option A, the story ended one way, Option B, another way, etc. The importance of having the focus of a checkers master and the vision of a chess master, even those things will only take you so far because there are a million things in life we've no control over...the actions of other people mainly, but also things like timing, feelings, and circumstances under which we live and operate.
Trust in God with the things I can't change, of opening the doors I am powerless to open, etc....that's the only thing that keeps me sane. I spent a long time trying to control as much as I could in my life, and it never worked. It led to frustration, sadness, and sometimes even anger. Faith is what fills in the gap, and not knowing all the answers to the crossword puzzle of life is what makes living either fun, new, and interesting, or very scary, depending on your perspective. I prefer and have chosen the latter, and it really has made all the difference in my life...this applies to my professional life, my romantic/dating life, to all of it... it's really gotten me to a good place (the normal bad days we all have notwithstanding), and I can't imagine ever going back.
Maybe this makes sense to someone besides me or maybe not so much, but this is my therapy, and your mileage may vary. :)
In the movie, Coach Herman Boone (Denzel Washington) comes into a newly segregated school to be head coach of the football team, replacing a very popular and successful white coach in the process. In Virginia, at the height of the civil rights movement, this definitely ruffled some feathers. The principal then informs Coach Boone right before the season starts that if he loses one game, he is fired and the white coach is back in. Here's where my analogy comes in.
I've heard it said before, used as a perjorative slam of an expression to insult someone's depth and intellect, that "I play chess and you're playing checkers." (I think Denzel Washington said that in "Training Day".) The theory behind that statement is that the person you say that to has no vision, and they have only the ability or willingness to see and deal with what is directly in front of them, the impact and consequences of those decisions on other things down the line be damned.
Such a high pressure situation could have certainly led Coach Boone to play checkers, to only deal with the most immediate goal in front of him...to keep winning at all costs. His genius lay not only in the checkers-type focus, the simplicity and execution of his play calling (the team only ran about 6-10 plays on offense), but also in his ability to anticipate potential problems, to see three moves ahead, and to have solutions ready that would be helpful both in the short-term and in the long run.
For example, he could have been a puppet and let the white coaches run the team with him as a figurehead, but realized that would do nothing to advance the ideals of equality behind integration, and also that it would lead to confusion, discord, and maybe mutiny among the players along racial lines. Or, when the white team captain laid down an ultimatum, demanding that he reserve half the offense and all the defense for white players, he could have caved to that demand if he thought it would lead to wins. But again, it went against the principles of equality and would have actually worked contrary to the team and personal goal of winning by keeping other more skilled black players out of the game.
What does all this mean? To me, it meant that he could not have survived and succeeded without a mixture of these things: the focus on the present required to win at checkers, the vision of a chess master to see how decision A might impact decision B and decision F down the road, and a healthy dose of faith.
There's a particularly poignant scene near the end where he is alone with his wife, questioning himself, whether he pushed the players too hard, whether he is doing the right thing. This is the vulnerability every man has but few will admit to having. Her answer was, "Life is just hard sometimes. Gary (his star white linebacker) had an accident, that's not your fault." In the end, he stood his ground, got a few breaks, and things worked out great, but there was a substantial possibility of things turning out disastrously.
Even with the focus of a checkers player and the vision of a chess master, he had to have faith that doing the things he stood for would produce the desired results. I'm sure that wasn't easy in the face of virulent protests, thinly veiled racism, and even attacks against him and his family. Want more possible landmines? ...the players of opposite races could have refused to bond and play as a team no matter what...his white defensive coordinator/assistant head coach could have heeded the calls of the white parents and sat out all of the white players in protest...that same coach could have simply done nothing and allowed the white officials to sabotage a game with too many penalties, causing the team to lose, him to be elevated to coach, and Coach Boone being fired (instead, he told the officials to call it straight or go to jail)
The point is that any one of a hundred breaks could have gone against him at the wrong time and brought it all crashing down. Life is an exquisite tapestry of events, woven together by faith and destiny...it's like the old choose your own ending novels, where if you chose Option A, the story ended one way, Option B, another way, etc. The importance of having the focus of a checkers master and the vision of a chess master, even those things will only take you so far because there are a million things in life we've no control over...the actions of other people mainly, but also things like timing, feelings, and circumstances under which we live and operate.
Trust in God with the things I can't change, of opening the doors I am powerless to open, etc....that's the only thing that keeps me sane. I spent a long time trying to control as much as I could in my life, and it never worked. It led to frustration, sadness, and sometimes even anger. Faith is what fills in the gap, and not knowing all the answers to the crossword puzzle of life is what makes living either fun, new, and interesting, or very scary, depending on your perspective. I prefer and have chosen the latter, and it really has made all the difference in my life...this applies to my professional life, my romantic/dating life, to all of it... it's really gotten me to a good place (the normal bad days we all have notwithstanding), and I can't imagine ever going back.
Maybe this makes sense to someone besides me or maybe not so much, but this is my therapy, and your mileage may vary. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)