A Letter to the Editor:

  
Do you read the daily Letters to the Editor in your newspaper? Well, I read one last week that ruffled my feathers a little bit. The writer complained that because the President is on TV so often, he feels like he’s living in a Third World country. It seemed like a strange complaint so I wrote the following Letter to the Editor (Tacoma News Tribune) which they printed a few days later (2/10):

A reader recently wrote that because Barack Obama is seemingly “on TV daily” he’s “beginning to realize what it feel’s like to live in a Third World country.” A third world country? Really? We have groups of people organized to do nothing but trash our president 24/7. People who are not only free to express their opinions, but are free to make up their own “facts.” So called “facts” often based on politics, hatred and fear rather than reality; fueled by corporate interests, along with second and third generation millionaires and billionaires who stoke the fires of ignorance in order to further their cause of power and self-reward, at the exclusion of those of us who must work (if we can find work) to survive. We even have an entire pseudo-news network dedicated exclusively to this cause. Would this be allowed in the third world country? If you want to call us a third world country, call us one for relying on the outside world by exporting our raw materials, and importing finished goods like real third world countries do. Call us a third world country for making medical care a privilege rather than a right, while giving corporations the right to profit by gouging consumers for needed medical care and to profit even further by denying that same care when it suits their bottom line. Maybe becoming a Third World country is what our president is trying to save us from.

That letter set off a barrage of comments on the Tribune’s website, most of which were very unhappy with my letter. So unhappy that several of their comments were removed by the paper for being too “abusive.” While most of the 110 comments were negative, here’s one of the few that defended my viewpoint:

“Randy, this is one of the best letters that I've read in awhile! Each and every post proves your point! Sad to say, however, that some of the entertainment value in the different post are over shadowed by the hatred, ignorance and racism in other post, which really comes back to your main point, which is that "people are not only free to express their opinions, they are free to make up their own Facts." And I might add that people are also free to live their miserable, hate filled lives, as evidenced by some of the fine comments on here.”

Well, in the end, I had to leave one last comment of my own on the website:

It’s a shame that we’re so easily polarized by buzz words, and that we so quickly turn to name-calling instead of thoughtful problem solving in this country (and I mean that at every level, from our Congress to our blogs, to our dinner tables.) Single-payer has become such a loaded term these days. To some, single-payer = Socialism = Communism = Fascism = Liberal = Democrat. Have we forgotten what these terms really mean? Do we care anymore, or are they just words to sling back and forth at each other like mud? Is a single-payer system really evil in all cases, or is it in some cases a reasonable option? Isn’t it in some ways a sort of reverse monopoly? A monopoly that benefits people, rather than corporations by replacing several for profit companies with one non-profit government run (ie. citizen run) entity. For many enterprises this would be a terrible option (I am not anti-capitalism, just anti laissez-faire capitalism,) but in some cases it just might be worth considering. Do we like our single-payer military protecting our shores? Do we like our single-payer fire departments protecting our homes? Do we like our single-payer police departments protecting our property? Shouldn’t we at least consider a single-payer basic health insurance to protect our very lives? For some reason we start screaming “Socialism” at the very thought of it, yet our military, our fire departments, and our police departments are all “social” programs that few of us would want to privatize and turn into for profit enterprises. I don’t want to have to pay private companies to protect my home from fire, my children from being assaulted, or my shores from being invaded. Sure I can pay for “extra” protection if I feel the need and have the means to do so, but for the basics I kind of like having those aforementioned American institutions standing at the ready in case I need them. And by the way, private insurance companies will still be able to make billions of dollars each year by insuring all kinds of valuable “things” that need insuring, but lives are not “things” and one person’s death, shouldn’t be another person’s performance bonus (at least I don’t think it should be.)

Writer’s Block

 
A blank page
and a blank mind
Stare each other down.
Determined adversaries,
Each waiting for the other to blink.
Eventually a thought worth writing,
A clever rhyme, a new idea,
An image will come to mind.
A compelling argument,
An inspired story, or maybe not.
Maybe tonight the page will win,
And I will say uncle.

Maybe tonight, I will crumple up my mind,
And toss it in the wastebasket,
And take my empty head to bed.
But tomorrow, I will make the page blink.
  

A Dime’s Worth of My Mind

 
Those who know me know that I’m never bashful about adding my 2 cents worth to a political conversation. I’m also prone to jotting my opinions down from time to time. Here are a few excerpts from last year's stack of rants:

My 2 cents worth about the end of the Bush/Cheney era
(November 2008)

After witnessing since the beginning of the new millennium the financial and moral gutting of our country and constitution by George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, and the administration’s inner circle of neo-con criminal co-conspirators, some of whom date back to the Nixon administration; at last we in America and across the world received the welcome news on Tuesday, November 4th of 2008, that the devastation of the Republican pendulum that has cut through so much on it’s eight year swing to the right is finally nearing the end of it’s destructive arc. (Think Poe’s Pit and the Pendulum here.) As we look up at it today, the blade’s dulled edge seems almost harmless. Because of our collective efforts we can be assured that it will slow a little more each day until it finally comes to a complete rest on Tuesday January 20th of 2009 when Barack Obama is sworn into office. And when it finally stops the rusty blood stained blade will be removed from the pendulum to be replaced with the hope of a nation ready to come together to do the hard work to repair the damage that can still be repaired, to make amends for that which cannot, to pray for those who have suffered and died beneath the slicing fascist edge of this administration, and to shine a light on those who were responsible.

My 2 cents worth about the Bush crime family
(June 2009)

Why are we quietly allowing the Bush administration to sail off into the history unchallenged? We can clearly see that crimes were committed in our name, and we know for the most part who was responsible. Why then are we not demanding that Bush, Cheney, Rove, Rumsfeld, Ashcroft and the others be tried for the crimes of their administration? I don’t expect Barack to go after them, but I damn well expect him to get out of the way and let the Justice Department its job. The last four Republican administrations have all committed serious crimes against our country and all four have been allowed to get away with it, signaling to each successive gang of criminals that they will not be held to account for their actions, no mater how unlawful or destructive to the country they may be. If the Obama administration does not allow the justice system to work as it was designed, allowing no persons to stand above the law, then it will have failed us all. For whatever other good President Obama may do in the next four to eight years, it will all be undone if the next gang of thugs who enter the White House are allowed to do as they please without fear of laws that once upon a time governed even them.

My 2 cents worth about the "Right to Bear Arms”
(September 2009)

Like so many Americans, I own a gun or two and believe in the second amendment, but unlike many I believe in the ENTIRE second amendment as it was written; “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” Did you notice the “well regulated” part? Remember folks the second amendment was written with the idea that America would NOT maintain a permanent standing army, and that in times of war EVERY man from 17 to 47 would report to his local militia to fight for his country. Funny how the N.R.A. crowd always seems to forget that part. Maybe they never knew it in the first place, but their “smarter” Bible thumping, corporate pumping right wing media talking heads ought to know it. However they seem to suffer from a selective memory disorder so unwavering that the ignorance of the masses they lead seems destined to become permanent condition; a terminal tumor on the brain of America. The “shoot first and ask questions later” crowd is now just the “shoot first crowd.” They no longer bother to ask questions.

My 2 cents worth about President Obama
(September 2009)

He was tossed the keys to the Titanic after it hit the iceberg, and the republican sharks are now in the water convincing the ignorant among us that lifejackets are a socialist plot, while the filthy rich commandeer the lifeboats. Under the circumstances, swimming against the currents of bigotry and stupidity, he's working his butt on our behalf, and I for one think he deserves our support.

My 2 cents worth about “One Nation Under God”
(October 2009)

The U.S. Pledge of Allegiance was written in 1892 by Francis Bellamy without any reference to God, but in 1954 Reverend George Docherty convinced President Eisenhower and the U.S. Congress to insert the words ''under God'' into the Pledge during the anti-Communist fervor of the McCarthy era (during the black-listings of teachers, professors, actors, writers, etc. who Joe McCarthy and his ilk deemed to be communists.) The change was made to link religion with patriotism and to separate us from the “Godless” Soviet Union.

It’s too bad Eisenhower (I like Ike) didn’t realize that telling people to disavow God as the Soviet government did, and telling people to pledge to a nation “under God” as the U.S. government did, were BOTH acts of governments telling people how to think about God. What business is that of ANY government?! I know Iran, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Yemen, Afghanistan, Pakistan, the Taliban, etc. will be furious at me for saying that, but they can go to hell for all I care. I’d rather my government worshipped FREEDOM, and let me worship my religion (or not) as an individual. –Amen
 

Fear of Flossing

My head bounced off the vanity,

and rolled across the floor.

I saw the ceiling, wall, and tile,

and then the wall once more.

The view just kept repeating,

and my nose was getting sore.

The redundancy was killing me,

'til alas, I saw the door.

Out on the kitchen floor I rolled,

between the dining chairs,

underneath the dining table.

It was dusty under there.

I hadn’t noticed that before,

but I guess I shouldn't care;

because I had bigger problems,

for example - cellar stairs!

My trip down the hall was fretful.

All my sins I did confess,

'cause the cellar door was open,

adding greatly to my stress.

Yes, I always get religious,

when I'm facing such duress.

Then just inches from the stairs,

my lucky noggin came to rest.

And while my glee was genuine,

it was also quickly spent,

as I recalled the minute prior,

when I was a taller gent;

before I grabbed that length

of waxy string with minty scent.

Before I had my horrible, freakish,

dental floss accident.

The Path of Least Resistance

If ever there a path be in my life,

cut out to parry every kind of strife,

in earth so deeply carved by demon tools;

one littered with the flinty glint of jewels,

and polished with the easiness of fools,

do prod me climb the grip-less hard-pitched walls.

In guise the path of least resistance calls.

Do prod me hard that I cannot ignore.

If hear you nay, pound hard upon my door.

Leave not, or I shall wallow evermore.

For the trap of least resistance does conspire,

to consume the hoard that sink beneath the mire.

 

Warning Facebook Friends (Escaping Farmville)

 
Like the rest of us, you don't understand how Facebook really works. Nobody does; nor do we know why it exists, or how we got there. Alien abductions I suspect. Like the rest of us you’ve probably had a memory implanted into your brain that a “friend” invited you there. It’s useless to resist. You’re there now, and there’s no escaping. If they haven’t done so already, the aliens will soon give you a task to perform. I for example maintain a farm in "Farmville" for the aliens, where I’m forced to harvest crops several times a week. The crops I assume go to feed the needy on some far away planet. Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against helping the less fortunate in other galaxies. I just don’t like being enslaved this way, so tonight I am planning to flee the farm. “Friends,” if you see my unattended crops left dying in the fields, please do not notify The Big Face. I want to be as far away as possible when the aliens notice!
 

The Very Brief History of My First Car

  
Reflections of power lines against a June blue sky began to bend oddly across the metallic gloss of her burgundy hood. The road ahead had suddenly become an unfocused white background lost in my peripheral vision as I watched the reflected lines bend, and re-bend. It was the maiden voyage of my 1967 Mustang, and I’d already struck an iceberg. A ripple first appeared at the far corner just above the right headlight, and it began to grow. Folding metal was coming at me like waves on the ocean. Flakes of paint instead of foam capped each breaker as they approached. It was 1977, and thus it wasn’t the Mustang’s maiden voyage, but rather my maiden voyage in a car of my very own. For fourteen glorious minutes, from the time it was insured at Allstate to the time on the police report (12:14 pm,) it was all mine, and I couldn’t wait to get it home. Graduation was just two days away, and the rearview mirror that I would soon hang my blue and gold S.H.S. Class of ’77 tassel on was now being ripped from the windshield by the side of my head. Through the broken glass a white station wagon came into focus, and then faded away.