I am not a criminal. I have never been charged with a crime. I fully support shielding of the identity of rape victims. The "public's right to know" is NOT sacrosanct. It applies to public meetings, the expenditure of public funds, government records and government in general, etc. I DOES NOT apply to private lives. I have no right to know anything about your life, if you are a private citizen. I too often hear fourth estate human megaphones spouting about "the public's right to know" when they should be shouting about "my right to produce scintillating garbage in order to sell more newspapers in order to generate more income for my employer".
Back to my original rant. Rape victims should not be identified. Neither should the ALLEGED attackers. I have no right to know that someone is ACCUSED of committing a crime. This benefits the public in no discernible way, shape or fashion.
I was motivated to blog about this topic because of a small blurb on page 2 of the sports section in this morning's newspaper. In three paragraphs, it detailed how a special prosecutor "has decided not to file charges against three...basketball players accused of rape, citing insufficient evidence". The article then proceeds to name "The players in question..." and "that DNA testing showed the three didn't commit the acts they were accused of (sic)".
OK. Now what? An accused rapist or rapists are still at large. The public in the area of the alleged rape is no better off than they were prior to the names of the three alleged attackers being released. Neither is the victim in a better position. The prosecutor has opened the door to reasonable doubt if the actual perpetrator(s) is/are apprehended. Seems as if the only ones in a position differing from the position they held prior to the arrest are the now-released defendants. And their position is in no way better than it was prior to the arrest.
My suggestion won't be adopted by the fourth estate since it would limit the titillating aspect of an article detailing the arrest of alleged perpetrators allegedly involved in an alleged sexual attack.
So...The victim is protected. This is a wonderful thing. The alleged perpetrators are identified and photographed for local and/or national news outlets. ALLEGED perpetrators. And, when the charges are dropped or they are found "not guilty", the news outlets release a minor "mea culpa". Just as you can't take back a hateful utterance, you can't "unaccuse" an innocent person.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Who to believe - The James Gang or a Leach?
Mike Leach vs. Craig & Adam James. Texas Tech. Concussion. What is fact in this fiasco? As far as I can see, there is only one verifiable fact. Mike Leach was fired as the football coach at Texas Tech. Other than that; squadouche. The Family James says many things. Leach and members of his staff counter. There is probably some truth and some lies on both sides. I won't pass judgement...for several reasons. Most people don't care what I think. My judgement won't have any effect on the situation. Most important, I don't care who is telling the truth. It has no effect on my life or my family, so it does not matter to me. The resolution of the situation is not my reason for blogging this morning. I just don't care.
Why I am sitting down is because I have seen parents like the elder James and children like the younger James. I have dealt with them as a youth coach, volunteer high school coach, sports official and fellow parent. I have shook my head in wonder at the arrogance of some parents. I have marvelled at their stupidity. I have wondered if they could be so blind to the damage they were doing to their children.
I do not claim to have been a perfect father. I'm sure my sons could regale you with tales of my ineptness. I know they have cussed me under their breath. I accept this. It's part of being a father. My sons are all good athletes. They played, and I coached, youth baseball, soccer and basketball. They played on school sports teams and were very good at what they did. What I NEVER did was to lobby a coach for playing time for them. If they wanted more playing time, they had to follow my instructions. I explained that you earn playing time during practice much more than during the actual game. If you don't like your position in the pecking order, work harder. That will enable you to reach your maximum potential. This potential may not be a career in professional sports, but it will be YOUR level of ability.
I, like my sons, realized in my teens that I was not going to be a professional athlete, or even play D1 sports. Sports were enjoyment. Testing personal limits. The fact that we may not have been the best on the team did not matter because we gave it our all. I won't speak for them, but I think they enjoyed the sports experience. They still play various sports and derive the enjoyment from the experience. All are professionals in their fields of expertise. Sports provides a necessary distraction.
I remember one particular exchange with the mother of a Little James who was a member of the baseball team I coached. She constantly yelled at her son from the bleachers. At times, she countermanded what I and the other coaches had told the child. After what was probably a bad day at work, I had reached my breaking point. While the practice continued, I calmly (if you knew my temper during that period of my life, you would have applauded my restraint) walked over to the first base bleachers and told her that she needed to stop yelling at her son. That, once he crossed the chain link fence, we (the coaches) were in charge. I said all this in a voice that could not be heard by the ballplayers. They were on the third base side of the field with the other coaches. Some other parents in the bleachers could hear, but I didn't give a rat's ass. She told me that she was only helping him and that she would continue. I made her an offer. Become a coach. I told her that I would give her my coaches T-shirt and let her cross the fence and coach her heart out. She told me that she probably could do a better job. Again, I made the offer. I then hit her with the knockout punch. I told her that, as a coach, I was responsible for more than a dozen children, including her little one. I would love to trade places with her so that I could concentrate solely on MY son and not have to be worried with the other children and their parents. It was something I had never experienced at the youth level since I always coached my sons' teams. She huffed, climbed down from the bleachers and walked across to the park. I wish I could say that she toned down, but she did not. But several parents thanked me for calling her out. And her son? The kid was a wreck. Nervous. Jittery. Shy. Withdrawn. A really good kid who happened to have a she wolf for a mother.
One rule I always followed: never say anything disrespectful (and doesn't that sound better than "don't be disrespecting"?) about an adult in the presence of my sons. Children are impressionable. When you degrade an adult in their presence, you undermine all adults. And you give your child a false sense of superiority and power. Children don't need that much power because they don't know what to do with it. I believe that you should support your child, but you must recognize that they are not perfect. They will transgress. When they do, they must pay the price. As a parent, you can be supportive, but you can't be blind.
If mommy and daddy verbalize that Mr. Smith is a stupid teacher or coach, then Little James has carte blanche to neither listen to nor respect Mr. Smith. In fact, Mr. Smith may indeed BE a stupid teacher or coach, but the is not Little James' business. This discussion should take place between mommy and daddy and Little James should not be within earshot. It's a small step from Mr. Smith being stupid to ANY adult with whom Little James has a problem being stupid. And if mommy and daddy always coddle Little James and make excuses for him, he's going to grow up believing he is without fault. There will be no cause and effect in his life. His sense of superiority will mean that he does not have to exert himself to, in his mind, get the starting position or more playing time or make the all-star team. He will never be a team player. He will always forsake the success of the team in favor of his personal aggrandizement. And, when he fails, which all of us do from time to time, mommy and daddy have implanted a numbing and dangerous rationalization in his psyche. "It's not your fault."
Why I am sitting down is because I have seen parents like the elder James and children like the younger James. I have dealt with them as a youth coach, volunteer high school coach, sports official and fellow parent. I have shook my head in wonder at the arrogance of some parents. I have marvelled at their stupidity. I have wondered if they could be so blind to the damage they were doing to their children.
I do not claim to have been a perfect father. I'm sure my sons could regale you with tales of my ineptness. I know they have cussed me under their breath. I accept this. It's part of being a father. My sons are all good athletes. They played, and I coached, youth baseball, soccer and basketball. They played on school sports teams and were very good at what they did. What I NEVER did was to lobby a coach for playing time for them. If they wanted more playing time, they had to follow my instructions. I explained that you earn playing time during practice much more than during the actual game. If you don't like your position in the pecking order, work harder. That will enable you to reach your maximum potential. This potential may not be a career in professional sports, but it will be YOUR level of ability.
I, like my sons, realized in my teens that I was not going to be a professional athlete, or even play D1 sports. Sports were enjoyment. Testing personal limits. The fact that we may not have been the best on the team did not matter because we gave it our all. I won't speak for them, but I think they enjoyed the sports experience. They still play various sports and derive the enjoyment from the experience. All are professionals in their fields of expertise. Sports provides a necessary distraction.
I remember one particular exchange with the mother of a Little James who was a member of the baseball team I coached. She constantly yelled at her son from the bleachers. At times, she countermanded what I and the other coaches had told the child. After what was probably a bad day at work, I had reached my breaking point. While the practice continued, I calmly (if you knew my temper during that period of my life, you would have applauded my restraint) walked over to the first base bleachers and told her that she needed to stop yelling at her son. That, once he crossed the chain link fence, we (the coaches) were in charge. I said all this in a voice that could not be heard by the ballplayers. They were on the third base side of the field with the other coaches. Some other parents in the bleachers could hear, but I didn't give a rat's ass. She told me that she was only helping him and that she would continue. I made her an offer. Become a coach. I told her that I would give her my coaches T-shirt and let her cross the fence and coach her heart out. She told me that she probably could do a better job. Again, I made the offer. I then hit her with the knockout punch. I told her that, as a coach, I was responsible for more than a dozen children, including her little one. I would love to trade places with her so that I could concentrate solely on MY son and not have to be worried with the other children and their parents. It was something I had never experienced at the youth level since I always coached my sons' teams. She huffed, climbed down from the bleachers and walked across to the park. I wish I could say that she toned down, but she did not. But several parents thanked me for calling her out. And her son? The kid was a wreck. Nervous. Jittery. Shy. Withdrawn. A really good kid who happened to have a she wolf for a mother.
One rule I always followed: never say anything disrespectful (and doesn't that sound better than "don't be disrespecting"?) about an adult in the presence of my sons. Children are impressionable. When you degrade an adult in their presence, you undermine all adults. And you give your child a false sense of superiority and power. Children don't need that much power because they don't know what to do with it. I believe that you should support your child, but you must recognize that they are not perfect. They will transgress. When they do, they must pay the price. As a parent, you can be supportive, but you can't be blind.
If mommy and daddy verbalize that Mr. Smith is a stupid teacher or coach, then Little James has carte blanche to neither listen to nor respect Mr. Smith. In fact, Mr. Smith may indeed BE a stupid teacher or coach, but the is not Little James' business. This discussion should take place between mommy and daddy and Little James should not be within earshot. It's a small step from Mr. Smith being stupid to ANY adult with whom Little James has a problem being stupid. And if mommy and daddy always coddle Little James and make excuses for him, he's going to grow up believing he is without fault. There will be no cause and effect in his life. His sense of superiority will mean that he does not have to exert himself to, in his mind, get the starting position or more playing time or make the all-star team. He will never be a team player. He will always forsake the success of the team in favor of his personal aggrandizement. And, when he fails, which all of us do from time to time, mommy and daddy have implanted a numbing and dangerous rationalization in his psyche. "It's not your fault."
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Veterans Day - 2009
A memorable one. Too much cold beer and good companionship and too little time to thoroughly enjoy the day. Melford hit town and we spent the day at the fish farm. After another teardown of the beaver dam, we took a walk around the place. Peaceful. We fed the Dorito cat. She does not have a name, but she loves Black Pepperjack Doritos. Could not get enough of them. I think the cat has dain bramage!
Sitting and talking. Two aging vets reminiscing about the happy times. Mostly about the college days at Millsaps. Melford's a swabbie, but not too bad, as they go. We laughed throughout the day. Caught and grilled some catfish. Dorito cat was not interested. I guess she filled up on her namesake.
Let me assure any of our friends who might read this post - NOTHING negative was spoken about any of you. ALL of you were fondly remembered on Veterans Day 2009. And some of you are even veterans!
Floy, Cindy, Bread, Shellie, Darrelyn, Rusty, Martha, Jane, Diane, Kathy, Mary, Joe Pat, Cossack, Boo, Richie, Gorgo, Jack, Geno, Sabu, Dupee, Janice, The Archbishop, Skybird, multiple Johns, Stan the Man, Debbies, Marla, Mikes, Donna, Schulte, Rowan, Bobby, Patti, Tube Jockey, and many others. I could go on and on. It seemed like we laughed about all our friends and how much they meant to us.
Then we spent some time remembering the good things about those who are no longer with us: Brett, House Mouse (aka: The Poster Poster), Dwight, and Lance, and Dr. Priddy. And those with whom we have lost touch, and know not if they are still with us or gone: Ronnie, Bret, and Jersey come to mind.
After spending the day, and with night falling, I headed home. The guilt started. I had spent an entire day with a good friend, fellow thespian and former housemate. We laughed and talked and discussed and fondly remembered our Millsaps friends and lovers. Two veterans on Veterans Day. And we had not spent one moment remembering our service friends - those who are still with us and those who are not. I know he agrees with me...our service buddies won't mind. Not at all. This is how we chose to spend Veterans Day 2009.
As I lay in the bed. In the dark. No sounds except those wafting through my open windows. The sounds of night. A quiet night. Then I thought of those who are no longer with me. Larry and Niv and Paul and The Nose. I'm going to visit them at The Wall online in just a minute. I know they will heartily approve of how I spent Veterans Day 2009. I only with they could have been with the two of us...
Sitting and talking. Two aging vets reminiscing about the happy times. Mostly about the college days at Millsaps. Melford's a swabbie, but not too bad, as they go. We laughed throughout the day. Caught and grilled some catfish. Dorito cat was not interested. I guess she filled up on her namesake.
Let me assure any of our friends who might read this post - NOTHING negative was spoken about any of you. ALL of you were fondly remembered on Veterans Day 2009. And some of you are even veterans!
Floy, Cindy, Bread, Shellie, Darrelyn, Rusty, Martha, Jane, Diane, Kathy, Mary, Joe Pat, Cossack, Boo, Richie, Gorgo, Jack, Geno, Sabu, Dupee, Janice, The Archbishop, Skybird, multiple Johns, Stan the Man, Debbies, Marla, Mikes, Donna, Schulte, Rowan, Bobby, Patti, Tube Jockey, and many others. I could go on and on. It seemed like we laughed about all our friends and how much they meant to us.
Then we spent some time remembering the good things about those who are no longer with us: Brett, House Mouse (aka: The Poster Poster), Dwight, and Lance, and Dr. Priddy. And those with whom we have lost touch, and know not if they are still with us or gone: Ronnie, Bret, and Jersey come to mind.
After spending the day, and with night falling, I headed home. The guilt started. I had spent an entire day with a good friend, fellow thespian and former housemate. We laughed and talked and discussed and fondly remembered our Millsaps friends and lovers. Two veterans on Veterans Day. And we had not spent one moment remembering our service friends - those who are still with us and those who are not. I know he agrees with me...our service buddies won't mind. Not at all. This is how we chose to spend Veterans Day 2009.
As I lay in the bed. In the dark. No sounds except those wafting through my open windows. The sounds of night. A quiet night. Then I thought of those who are no longer with me. Larry and Niv and Paul and The Nose. I'm going to visit them at The Wall online in just a minute. I know they will heartily approve of how I spent Veterans Day 2009. I only with they could have been with the two of us...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Not Just The Black, But ALL Women
Leonard Pitts, Jr. is a columnist whose ramblings appear on Sunday and Wednesday in the Miami Herald. He seems to carry a chip on his shoulder, but I still find some of his writings to be quite interesting...and thought provoking. This being the case, I'm sure he would be pleased.
Today's (11/1/09) entry concerned black women who whiten themselves up. If you click on the link above, you can read his entire column. I found it interesting, but I see the same instances of appearance-changing in all races. I do see his point about black women straightening or weaving their hair and how they, and others, spend $9 billion (yep! that's what Chris Rock says) yearly on stuff to affect the change. And how "black folks" own very little of the industry. Seems like a huge waste.
I am a fan of women. All women. I find them fascinating. They are much better than my sex. They have so much more to offer the world. I love most aspects of women. They are the nurturers. The givers. Most ask for so little in return. Many ask for nothing. But they also seem, and I know I should not deal with generalities, to be insecure. And none of them should be.
I was particularly moved by the end of Pitts' column. So much that I left a Sunday PM football game on TV to sit down and blog. As I said earlier, I find some of his writings very interesting. He is a gifted wordsmith. I close with the portion that caught my attention...and caused me to reread it three times. I can't think of anyone who has ever stated this truth more eloquently:
"I am your brother, your father, your husband and your son. I've seen you in church with big hats on, giving children the evil eye. And at the jail on visiting day, shoring up that wayward man. And at the bus stop in the rain on your way to work. And at the dining table with pen and paper, working miracles of money. When I was a baby, you nursed me, when we were children, I chased you through the house; when we were dating, I missed half the movie, stealing sugar from you. I saw you born; I took you to your prom; I glowed with pride when you went off to school. I have married you and buried you. I love your smile. A million times, you took my breath away.
You are the rock and salvation of our people, the faith that remains when all hope is gone. So if it's about the need to be beautiful, maybe it's time somebody told you:
You already are. You always were. "
Today's (11/1/09) entry concerned black women who whiten themselves up. If you click on the link above, you can read his entire column. I found it interesting, but I see the same instances of appearance-changing in all races. I do see his point about black women straightening or weaving their hair and how they, and others, spend $9 billion (yep! that's what Chris Rock says) yearly on stuff to affect the change. And how "black folks" own very little of the industry. Seems like a huge waste.
I am a fan of women. All women. I find them fascinating. They are much better than my sex. They have so much more to offer the world. I love most aspects of women. They are the nurturers. The givers. Most ask for so little in return. Many ask for nothing. But they also seem, and I know I should not deal with generalities, to be insecure. And none of them should be.
I was particularly moved by the end of Pitts' column. So much that I left a Sunday PM football game on TV to sit down and blog. As I said earlier, I find some of his writings very interesting. He is a gifted wordsmith. I close with the portion that caught my attention...and caused me to reread it three times. I can't think of anyone who has ever stated this truth more eloquently:
"I am your brother, your father, your husband and your son. I've seen you in church with big hats on, giving children the evil eye. And at the jail on visiting day, shoring up that wayward man. And at the bus stop in the rain on your way to work. And at the dining table with pen and paper, working miracles of money. When I was a baby, you nursed me, when we were children, I chased you through the house; when we were dating, I missed half the movie, stealing sugar from you. I saw you born; I took you to your prom; I glowed with pride when you went off to school. I have married you and buried you. I love your smile. A million times, you took my breath away.
You are the rock and salvation of our people, the faith that remains when all hope is gone. So if it's about the need to be beautiful, maybe it's time somebody told you:
You already are. You always were. "
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Deaddy Teddy
My dislike for Teddy is previously documented on my blogsite. My opinion is that the world is a much better place now that he is not a part of it. I don't know the origin of the following email. In the spirit of fair play, I have linked the title to a snopes.com entry that covers the email facts. They are true, although some are inaccurate. Check out the link for the complete story.
1. He was caught cheating at Harvard when he attended it. He was expelled twice, once for cheating on a test, and once for paying a classmate to cheat for him.
2. While expelled, Kennedy enlisted in the Army, but mistakenly signed up for four years instead of two. Oops! The man can't count to four! His father, Joseph P. Kennedy, former U.S. Ambassador to England (a step up from bootlegging liquor into the US from Canada during prohibition), pulled the necessary strings to have his enlistment shortened to two years, and to ensure that he served in Europe, not Korea , where a war was raging. No preferential treatment for him! (like he charged that President Bush received).
3. Kennedy was assigned to Paris , never advanced beyond the rank of Private, and returned to Harvard upon being discharged.. Imagine a person of his "education" NEVER advancing past the rank of Private!
4. While attending law school at the University of Virginia , he was cited for reckless driving four times, including once when he was clocked driving 90 miles per hour in a residential neighborhood with his headlights off after dark. Yet his Virginia driver's license was never revoked. Coincidentally, he passed the bar exam in 1959. Amazing!
5.. In 1964, he was seriously injured in a plane crash, and hospitalized for several months. Test results done by the hospital at the time he was admitted had shown he was legally intoxicated. The results of those tests remained a "state secret" until in the 1980's when the report was unsealed. Didn't hear about that from the unbiased media, did we?
6. On July 19, 1969, Kennedy attended a party on Chappaquiddick Island in Massachusetts . At about 11:00 PM, he borrowed his chauffeur's keys to his Oldsmobile limousine, and offered to give a ride home to Mary Jo Kopechne, a campaign worker. Leaving the island via an unlit bridge with no guard rail, Kennedy steered the car off the bridge, flipped, and into Poucha Pond.
7. He swam to shore and walked back to the party, passing several houses and a fire station. Two friends then returned with him to the scene of the accident. According to their later testimony, they told him what he already knew - that he was required by law to immediately report the accident to the authorities. Instead Kennedy made his way to his hotel, called his lawyer, and went to sleep. Kennedy called the police the next morning and by then the wreck had already been discovered. Before dying, Kopechne had scratched at the upholstered floor above her head in the upside-down car.
The Kennedy family began "calling in favors", ensuring that any inquiry would be contained. Her corpse was whisked out-of-state to her family, before an autopsy could be conducted. Further details are uncertain, but after the accident Kennedy says he repeatedly dove under the water trying to rescue Kopechne and he didn't call police because he was in a state of shock. It is widely assumed Kennedy was drunk, and he held off calling police in hopes that his family could fix the problem overnight. Since the accident, Kennedy's "political enemies" have referred to him as the distinguished Senator from Chappaquiddick. He pled guilty to leaving the scene of an accident, and was given a SUSPENDED SENTENCE OF TWO MONTHS. Kopechne's family received a small payout from the Kennedy's insurance policy, and never sued. There was later an effort to have her body exhumed and autopsied, but her family successfully fought against this in court, and Kennedy's family paid their attorney's bills... a "token of friendship"?
8. Kennedy has held his Senate seat for more than forty years, but considering his longevity, his accomplishments seem scant. He authored or argued for legislation that ensured a variety of civil rights, increased the minimum wage in 1981, made access to health care easier for the indigent, and funded Meals on Wheels for fixed-income seniors and is widely held as the "standard-bearer for liberalism". In his very first Senate roll, he was the floor manager for the bill that turned U.S. immigration policy upside down and opened the floodgate for immigrants from third world countries.
9. Since that time, he has been the prime instigator and author of every expansion of an increase in immigration, up to and including the latest attempt to grant amnesty to illegal aliens. Not to mention the pious grilling he gave the last two Supreme Court nominees, as if he was the standard bearer for the nation in matters of "what's right". What a pompous ass!
10. He is known around Washington as a public drunk, loud, boisterous and very disrespectful to ladies. JERK is a better description than "great American". "A blonde in every pond" is his motto.
How about an 11? Covering for his nephew during the investigation of a 1991 rape. What a role model, huh?
"Palm Beach police asserted that Kennedy had obstructed justice by misleading police early in their investigation. When police arrived to investigate, they were told Kennedy and Smith had already left the area. Later investigation of travel records indicated Kennedy probably was still in the mansion at the time." http://www.answers.com/topic/edward-m-ted-kennedy
1. He was caught cheating at Harvard when he attended it. He was expelled twice, once for cheating on a test, and once for paying a classmate to cheat for him.
2. While expelled, Kennedy enlisted in the Army, but mistakenly signed up for four years instead of two. Oops! The man can't count to four! His father, Joseph P. Kennedy, former U.S. Ambassador to England (a step up from bootlegging liquor into the US from Canada during prohibition), pulled the necessary strings to have his enlistment shortened to two years, and to ensure that he served in Europe, not Korea , where a war was raging. No preferential treatment for him! (like he charged that President Bush received).
3. Kennedy was assigned to Paris , never advanced beyond the rank of Private, and returned to Harvard upon being discharged.. Imagine a person of his "education" NEVER advancing past the rank of Private!
4. While attending law school at the University of Virginia , he was cited for reckless driving four times, including once when he was clocked driving 90 miles per hour in a residential neighborhood with his headlights off after dark. Yet his Virginia driver's license was never revoked. Coincidentally, he passed the bar exam in 1959. Amazing!
5.. In 1964, he was seriously injured in a plane crash, and hospitalized for several months. Test results done by the hospital at the time he was admitted had shown he was legally intoxicated. The results of those tests remained a "state secret" until in the 1980's when the report was unsealed. Didn't hear about that from the unbiased media, did we?
6. On July 19, 1969, Kennedy attended a party on Chappaquiddick Island in Massachusetts . At about 11:00 PM, he borrowed his chauffeur's keys to his Oldsmobile limousine, and offered to give a ride home to Mary Jo Kopechne, a campaign worker. Leaving the island via an unlit bridge with no guard rail, Kennedy steered the car off the bridge, flipped, and into Poucha Pond.
7. He swam to shore and walked back to the party, passing several houses and a fire station. Two friends then returned with him to the scene of the accident. According to their later testimony, they told him what he already knew - that he was required by law to immediately report the accident to the authorities. Instead Kennedy made his way to his hotel, called his lawyer, and went to sleep. Kennedy called the police the next morning and by then the wreck had already been discovered. Before dying, Kopechne had scratched at the upholstered floor above her head in the upside-down car.
The Kennedy family began "calling in favors", ensuring that any inquiry would be contained. Her corpse was whisked out-of-state to her family, before an autopsy could be conducted. Further details are uncertain, but after the accident Kennedy says he repeatedly dove under the water trying to rescue Kopechne and he didn't call police because he was in a state of shock. It is widely assumed Kennedy was drunk, and he held off calling police in hopes that his family could fix the problem overnight. Since the accident, Kennedy's "political enemies" have referred to him as the distinguished Senator from Chappaquiddick. He pled guilty to leaving the scene of an accident, and was given a SUSPENDED SENTENCE OF TWO MONTHS. Kopechne's family received a small payout from the Kennedy's insurance policy, and never sued. There was later an effort to have her body exhumed and autopsied, but her family successfully fought against this in court, and Kennedy's family paid their attorney's bills... a "token of friendship"?
8. Kennedy has held his Senate seat for more than forty years, but considering his longevity, his accomplishments seem scant. He authored or argued for legislation that ensured a variety of civil rights, increased the minimum wage in 1981, made access to health care easier for the indigent, and funded Meals on Wheels for fixed-income seniors and is widely held as the "standard-bearer for liberalism". In his very first Senate roll, he was the floor manager for the bill that turned U.S. immigration policy upside down and opened the floodgate for immigrants from third world countries.
9. Since that time, he has been the prime instigator and author of every expansion of an increase in immigration, up to and including the latest attempt to grant amnesty to illegal aliens. Not to mention the pious grilling he gave the last two Supreme Court nominees, as if he was the standard bearer for the nation in matters of "what's right". What a pompous ass!
10. He is known around Washington as a public drunk, loud, boisterous and very disrespectful to ladies. JERK is a better description than "great American". "A blonde in every pond" is his motto.
How about an 11? Covering for his nephew during the investigation of a 1991 rape. What a role model, huh?
"Palm Beach police asserted that Kennedy had obstructed justice by misleading police early in their investigation. When police arrived to investigate, they were told Kennedy and Smith had already left the area. Later investigation of travel records indicated Kennedy probably was still in the mansion at the time." http://www.answers.com/topic/edward-m-ted-kennedy
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Woodstock and the hippie nation
I am a hippie. I don't apologize for that fact. Today is my 61st birthday. Forty years ago, I had the chance to be at Max Yazgur's farm in upstate NY. David Nonnemaker, one of my roommates at the house on North West St., had heard about the concert and wanted me to go with him. We would hitchhike. It had been a little more than a month since we had returned from the Atlanta Pops festival. I had two jobs and, much to my chagrin, decided not to go. The trip would have probably taken four or five days each way, depending on how long it took us to catch rides. I would have been gone for two weeks or more. I needed money. In retrospect, it was a good decision. Atlanta was much closer and the Pops Festival had been over the July 4th holiday.
I wish I had been there to witness and partake in the happening. People were there from Thursday through Monday. No fights. People sharing everything they had with total strangers. The citizens of Bethel feeding the concert attendees and telling the national news outlets how well-behaved the hippies were throughout the weekend. This is the "hippiedom" to which I ascribe. Not the crap that emanated from San Francisco during the "Summer of Love". Those 10,000 were mostly Manson (Charlie not Marilyn). They were street people, much as you would find in any large city today. Unwashed. Thieving. Belligerent. Confrontational. NOT hippies. They were more like a mob of freeloaders who converged on the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood and became freeloaders.
A true hippie is one who practices ideals. Look for the best in everyone. Help those in need. Make love; not war. It's not about a style of dress, although I still love the tie-died T-shirts, no underwear, no socks, shorts and my long hair. Buffett and his parrotheads are hippies. You don't have to be poor. You don't have to give away all your possessions or wealth. You do need to take a shower at least once a day! And don't be a poseur. Like Abbie Hoffman. The way Pete Townshend bitch-slapped Hoffman around on the stage at Woodstock is a thing of beauty. I just wish someone had film. And, in that vein: Does anyone even remember John Sinclair? Not many folks. But most remember Pete threatening Abbie Hoffman (and EVERYONE at the festival) with a sound thrashing if they interrupted The Who again. Still hilarious stuff.
Hippies are misunderstood. Those who flaunt their hippiness are similar to flaming queen gays. One of the tenets of being a hippie is doing good deeds without any fanfare or expectation of any reward. We work every day. We pay our taxes and raise our children. Many of us are conservative. Some even go to church. We laugh at the derisive attitude that many people take of us. We were the campus rebels who sat in with our friends from Jackson State on the day after the Gibbs and Green shootings. We were peaceful. But we were upset and angry. Only ten days prior to these shootings, the Kent State massacre took place. Yes, we were naive. We wanted to change the world. Our black friends at Millsaps were headed to Lynch St. to meet with their friends. Some of us were asked to accompany them because they felt that some white kids in the mix might cause the Jackson police and Mississippi National Guard to act in a restrained manner. Some of us were Lynch St. regulars because of the Paradise Club and Percy, the proprietor. We used to go there on Sundays because you could sit and watch a football game and drink beer. You could not do that in the white neighborhoods. Our sit-in had no purpose other than to show the world that we cared. We were still pretty raw from Kent State. To this day, I am still terribly bothered by Kent State.
We protested the war. But, when it was our time to go, most of us went. I did. I was married, a father, and a college graduate. But I served my time honorably. We were also more rounded than our parents. I was an athlete and a thespian and a hippie. I saw no contradiction. I still don't. I'm still a hippie and I will be until I die. I am an organ donor. I was a bone marrow donor volunteer until age 55, when I was drummed out of the program due to my age. I gave blood. Upon my death, I have donated my body to UMC. I pay my bills. I am fiscally conservative. I don't believe in Iraq and Afghanistan, just like I did not believe in Vietnam. But I support every one of our troops with no hesitation. We need to keep our money at home and let these religious factions fight it out with each other, just as they have been doing for a few thousand years. I don't believe in god or religion, but I'm not bothered by those who promulgate on TV and radio.
I am terrified by Obama and Pelosi and what they can do to our country. But I support human rights. I don't care if some guy wants to parade around town with a blow-up alligator impaled on his tallywacker. He's not hurting me. I don't like radicals of any style. I quit watching and listening to idiots like Limbaugh and Olbermann and O'Reilly and Coulter. They raise my blood pressure.
I fish and hunt, but wish Vick had been put in a ring with a dozen of his own pit bulls, after he had been drenched in fresh blood. I play golf but don't like watching it on TV because it's so boring to watch. I can't stand opera, but I love most types of rock, soul and reggae. I raise some of my own vegetables, but am not adverse to consuming something that is not "free-range" or "all natural" or "heart healthy". I don't believe in global warming...or Al Gore!
In summation, being a hippie is a good thing. It's a lifestyle that can't be defined, but you know it when you meet one of us. And, chances are, you won't know it when you DO meet one of us. That's the way we like it.
I wish I had been there to witness and partake in the happening. People were there from Thursday through Monday. No fights. People sharing everything they had with total strangers. The citizens of Bethel feeding the concert attendees and telling the national news outlets how well-behaved the hippies were throughout the weekend. This is the "hippiedom" to which I ascribe. Not the crap that emanated from San Francisco during the "Summer of Love". Those 10,000 were mostly Manson (Charlie not Marilyn). They were street people, much as you would find in any large city today. Unwashed. Thieving. Belligerent. Confrontational. NOT hippies. They were more like a mob of freeloaders who converged on the Haight-Ashbury neighborhood and became freeloaders.
A true hippie is one who practices ideals. Look for the best in everyone. Help those in need. Make love; not war. It's not about a style of dress, although I still love the tie-died T-shirts, no underwear, no socks, shorts and my long hair. Buffett and his parrotheads are hippies. You don't have to be poor. You don't have to give away all your possessions or wealth. You do need to take a shower at least once a day! And don't be a poseur. Like Abbie Hoffman. The way Pete Townshend bitch-slapped Hoffman around on the stage at Woodstock is a thing of beauty. I just wish someone had film. And, in that vein: Does anyone even remember John Sinclair? Not many folks. But most remember Pete threatening Abbie Hoffman (and EVERYONE at the festival) with a sound thrashing if they interrupted The Who again. Still hilarious stuff.
Hippies are misunderstood. Those who flaunt their hippiness are similar to flaming queen gays. One of the tenets of being a hippie is doing good deeds without any fanfare or expectation of any reward. We work every day. We pay our taxes and raise our children. Many of us are conservative. Some even go to church. We laugh at the derisive attitude that many people take of us. We were the campus rebels who sat in with our friends from Jackson State on the day after the Gibbs and Green shootings. We were peaceful. But we were upset and angry. Only ten days prior to these shootings, the Kent State massacre took place. Yes, we were naive. We wanted to change the world. Our black friends at Millsaps were headed to Lynch St. to meet with their friends. Some of us were asked to accompany them because they felt that some white kids in the mix might cause the Jackson police and Mississippi National Guard to act in a restrained manner. Some of us were Lynch St. regulars because of the Paradise Club and Percy, the proprietor. We used to go there on Sundays because you could sit and watch a football game and drink beer. You could not do that in the white neighborhoods. Our sit-in had no purpose other than to show the world that we cared. We were still pretty raw from Kent State. To this day, I am still terribly bothered by Kent State.
We protested the war. But, when it was our time to go, most of us went. I did. I was married, a father, and a college graduate. But I served my time honorably. We were also more rounded than our parents. I was an athlete and a thespian and a hippie. I saw no contradiction. I still don't. I'm still a hippie and I will be until I die. I am an organ donor. I was a bone marrow donor volunteer until age 55, when I was drummed out of the program due to my age. I gave blood. Upon my death, I have donated my body to UMC. I pay my bills. I am fiscally conservative. I don't believe in Iraq and Afghanistan, just like I did not believe in Vietnam. But I support every one of our troops with no hesitation. We need to keep our money at home and let these religious factions fight it out with each other, just as they have been doing for a few thousand years. I don't believe in god or religion, but I'm not bothered by those who promulgate on TV and radio.
I am terrified by Obama and Pelosi and what they can do to our country. But I support human rights. I don't care if some guy wants to parade around town with a blow-up alligator impaled on his tallywacker. He's not hurting me. I don't like radicals of any style. I quit watching and listening to idiots like Limbaugh and Olbermann and O'Reilly and Coulter. They raise my blood pressure.
I fish and hunt, but wish Vick had been put in a ring with a dozen of his own pit bulls, after he had been drenched in fresh blood. I play golf but don't like watching it on TV because it's so boring to watch. I can't stand opera, but I love most types of rock, soul and reggae. I raise some of my own vegetables, but am not adverse to consuming something that is not "free-range" or "all natural" or "heart healthy". I don't believe in global warming...or Al Gore!
In summation, being a hippie is a good thing. It's a lifestyle that can't be defined, but you know it when you meet one of us. And, chances are, you won't know it when you DO meet one of us. That's the way we like it.
Friday, July 3, 2009
My Personal Litmus Test
The title link takes you to a You Tube video capturing one of the most powerful lines in John Grisham's "A Time To Kill". Jake Brigance's closing argument. It ends with: "Can you see her? Her raped, beaten, broken body, soaked in their urine, soaked in their semen, soaked in her blood -- left to die. Can you see her? I want you to picture that little girl. Now imagine she's white." Powerful. Compelling. A major eye-opener. It will bring tears to the eyes of grown men. It sent shivers up my spine when I read it. I stopped reading and gasped. Then I reread the line. DAMN! All I could think about was - what if someone did this to one of my children? Then I delved deeper into what I thought Grisham meant.
There are certain watermarks in the life of every person. I remember the approximate time of day and in which chair I was sitting when I read the line. It haunted me for days. Then I began to explore it. That's when I discovered I could use the line as a litmus test for fairness and equity. Grisham totally reversed the mood in the courtroom. He altered perception and reality for all who heard Jake Brigance speak the words. "Now imagine she's white." Polar opposites. Black and White. Suddenly everyone was given a new perspective from which to view the facts. I like that. That is powerful. It's also defusing. It seems to return the Ph to neutral. It makes one do a 180. OK. Ah, yes. Now, I see.
I recently used it in the context of the Justice Department Civil Rights Divison's investigation of Ike Brown and his ne'er-do-wells in Noxubee county. If this had been, as I admit it has been in the past, Caucasians disenfranchising blacks, Uncle would have stepped in and conducted a thorough investigation. OK. This one passes the litmus test. What's good for one group is good for the other.
Would Sonia Sotomayor's "Latina woman" remark, if uttered by a white or black judge to espouse some intangible insight inherent in a specific racial group, have caused an immediate loss of presidential support? Duh? Of course!
What is the purpose of the organization RBI (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities) is a program designed to encourage minority children to play baseball. It is sponsored by Major League Baseball. OK. MLB is currently approximately 60% White, 29% Hispanic, 8% Black, and 3% Asian . The U.S. Census Bureau estimates that 2008 numbers show the population is: 80% White, 15.1% Hispanic, 12.8% Black and 4.4% Asian. Seems like we might have to start RBS (Reviving Baseball in the Suburbs) or RBC (Reviving Baseball in Chinatown) too. And maybe the NBA, MLS and NFL need to step up. Way too many blacks and too few whites, Hispanics and Asians. Is RBI another Jackson/Sharpton blackmail (no pun intended) job? (And, by the way, the Duke lacrosse team is still waiting for your apology.)
I'm proud of my litmus test. You can use it in various ways. When you hear or read something that makes you think, just replace certain key words with polar opposites and see if you still feel as you initially felt. Try it.
There are certain watermarks in the life of every person. I remember the approximate time of day and in which chair I was sitting when I read the line. It haunted me for days. Then I began to explore it. That's when I discovered I could use the line as a litmus test for fairness and equity. Grisham totally reversed the mood in the courtroom. He altered perception and reality for all who heard Jake Brigance speak the words. "Now imagine she's white." Polar opposites. Black and White. Suddenly everyone was given a new perspective from which to view the facts. I like that. That is powerful. It's also defusing. It seems to return the Ph to neutral. It makes one do a 180. OK. Ah, yes. Now, I see.
I recently used it in the context of the Justice Department Civil Rights Divison's investigation of Ike Brown and his ne'er-do-wells in Noxubee county. If this had been, as I admit it has been in the past, Caucasians disenfranchising blacks, Uncle would have stepped in and conducted a thorough investigation. OK. This one passes the litmus test. What's good for one group is good for the other.
Would Sonia Sotomayor's "Latina woman" remark, if uttered by a white or black judge to espouse some intangible insight inherent in a specific racial group, have caused an immediate loss of presidential support? Duh? Of course!
What is the purpose of the organization RBI (Reviving Baseball in Inner Cities) is a program designed to encourage minority children to play baseball. It is sponsored by Major League Baseball. OK. MLB is currently approximately 60% White, 29% Hispanic, 8% Black, and 3% Asian . The U.S. Census Bureau estimates that 2008 numbers show the population is: 80% White, 15.1% Hispanic, 12.8% Black and 4.4% Asian. Seems like we might have to start RBS (Reviving Baseball in the Suburbs) or RBC (Reviving Baseball in Chinatown) too. And maybe the NBA, MLS and NFL need to step up. Way too many blacks and too few whites, Hispanics and Asians. Is RBI another Jackson/Sharpton blackmail (no pun intended) job? (And, by the way, the Duke lacrosse team is still waiting for your apology.)
I'm proud of my litmus test. You can use it in various ways. When you hear or read something that makes you think, just replace certain key words with polar opposites and see if you still feel as you initially felt. Try it.
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